Page 12 of Doctored Vows

With a smile that proves she likes ruffling her son’s feathers, Mrs. Ivanov sits on a park bench edging the sidewalk before gesturing for me to join her. I move closer but remain standing. Benches are full of germs, and I need to save the sanitizing wipes in my purse for the bus trip I’m taking later tonight.

I remained living at my grandparents’ apartment for a reason. It is close enough to the hospital that I’ll never have to use public transport.

Public modes of transport give me the ick.

Their apartment is a little pricier than the other one-bedrooms in the area, but what I save in transport fees more than makes up the difference.

I’ve also not had a single sick day in the past three years.

Mrs. Ivanov mistakes my germ phobia as fear. “I won’t bite, dear.” She doesn’t attempt to alter her volume when she adds, “Although from how highly Maksim has spoken of you the past two weeks, I may be the only Ivanov keeping their teeth sheathed.”

Maksim’s eyes shoot up from his cell phone while my eyes rocket to him. “Ma.”

“What?” she replies, her eyes gleaming like she’s proud she once again forced him to respond. “Was anything I said untrue?”

Heat creeps across my cheeks when Maksim remains quiet.

It returns my thoughts to when I walked in on him in the shower and has me hopeful for another spontaneous run-in.

My prayers appear as if they’ll be left ungranted when a dark sedan pulls in behind the bench, completely ignoring the angry honk of the cab driver he cut off. The SUV is fancy and heavily tinted. I highly doubt it charges by the mile.

“That will be for me.”

“Careful,” I request when Mrs. Ivanov bounds off the bench like she has somewhere important to be. She may, but she’ll end up back as my patient if she doesn’t slow down.

When I say that to her, she blows a raspberry that doesn’t match her style or sophistication. “You could never be so unlucky.”

My heart melts when she wraps me up in a motherly hug like she’s known me for years. Or perhaps she knows it’s been years since I’ve been engulfed by a warmth only a mother can offer. I haven’t experienced my mother’s hugs in over eight years, and the last one we shared was as cold and unloving as the ground she was buried in only an hour later.

After thawing sections of my heart that froze when I lost both my parents within days of each other, Mrs. Ivanov caresses her son in the same manner. I don’t know what she whispers in his ear, but his eyes flick to me numerous times, and he awards her the occasional nod.

Mrs. Ivanov’s perfume whips up around me when she glides past me before slipping into the back of the SUV, passing a large black man holding open the door for her.

“Trust your instincts.” I realize her request may not be solely for me when she adds, “They brought us back here for a reason, but they may not be all bad.”

After waiting for Maksim to nod, she signals for the driver to go, leaving Maksim butting shoulders with me on the footpath.

My surprise is so high it takes her SUV melding into the peak-hour traffic before my mouth will articulate anything. “Are you not going with her?”

“Eventually.”

I feel Maksim’s eyes on me for several long seconds before I build the courage to stop watching snow flurries fall around us and twist to face him.

He smirks as if he appreciates my strength. He shouldn’t. My insides are in so much turmoil it is like the grade three dance recital all over again. I’m seconds from vomiting on my shoes.

“I have some matters I need to take care of here first.”

“Here?” I don’t give him the chance to reply. “I didn’t realize your family’s real estate portfolio extended this far inland.”

I cringe at my inability to think on the spot. My reply disclosed my research didn’t end when I unearthed his mother’s medical history. I delved into their private affairs as well.

It didn’t disclose much, only that the Ivanov name is attached to numerous development applications and structures across the globe.

After staring long enough for the snow to melt, Maksim says, “It hadn’t previously.” A ghost of a smile creeps onto his mouth, and it does wild things to my insides. They’re definitely good jitters because they’re the same ones that fluttered in my stomach when I walked in on him in the shower. “This is a new venture I recently unearthed an interest in.”

“Cool.”

Who the hell says “cool” anymore, Nikita?

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