Page 29 of Emerald Vices

She saved the full wattage of her smile for the evening’s biggest surprise: the arrival of Aunt Annie. The woman practically blew the front door down with her walking stick, sashaying into my house in the dress I sent for her to wear.

I thought Natalia was going to collapse in shock. But as the surprise faded, a wide smile I was beginning to worry I wouldn’t see again spread across Natalia’s face, and it hasn’t left since.

Not while she and Annie caught up in the living room.

Not while Annie figuratively and literally twisted Natalia’s arm to get her to play something for us on the piano.

Of all the songs she could’ve chosen, Natalia went with “Celebration” by Kool & The Gang. The fact that both she and Annie were teary-eyed by the end of it was mystifying to me, but I filed that away as a question for later.

As I’m kicking back after a successful dinner—Pilav did exactly as I requested, cooking all of Natalia’s favorites in a bizarre lineup that ranged from lobster to Caesar salad to spaghetti and meatballs—I decide that Natalia might just be pliable enough to enact the final part of my plan.

Cherry pie with homemade vanilla bean ice cream is brought out from the kitchen, and I open my mouth to speak—but Aunt Annie beats me to the punch.

“Sweetheart,” her tender voice carries from across the table, “how have you been? I mean, really?”

A shadow flickers across Natalia’s face, followed quickly by a forced grin. “I’m doing better.”

It’s a passable lie. Some people might even buy it.

But those people didn’t hear Natalia screaming in her sleep.

“Are you?” Aunt Annie presses. “Because, as gorgeous as you look right now, you also look tired.”

There are dark circles under her eyes. I was distracted by my own ruse—the dress and the nice dinner—but I see them now, too.

“I don’t think she’s been sleeping very well,” Mila butts in.

Natalia can’t seem to decide if she’s mad at Mila or Leonty for blabbing. Pillow talk was definitely the source for that little snippet of inside information. “That’s not true. I sleep fine.”

Mila shovels in a bite of pie before she says anything else incriminating, but Aunt Annie isn’t so easily swayed. She frowns at Natalia. “You need to take care of yourself, honey. You have to think about your babies.”

“I am thinking about the babies,” she insists, stealing a quick glance at Misha. “Dr. Abdulov suggested some medications, but they make me feel fuzzy. If I’m going to be here, I want to be here.”

Without even realizing it, my fists have clenched under the table.

“What about therapy?” Mila suggests brightly. She says it like it’s a fun day at the park—an obvious ploy to talk Natalia into it, though not necessarily a bad one.

But Natalia doesn’t bite. “I don’t need therapy.”

“Yes, you do.”

The table goes quiet. Only then do I realize that I’ve voiced the emphatic thought in my head. It feels so damn good to finally say it out loud that I can’t even mourn the demise of my perfectly executed night.

“Excuse me?” Natalia’s cheeks are scarlet.

“You’re struggling, Natalia. You need help.” I can feel Shura’s eyes on me, cautioning me, but I charge ahead anyway. “Which is why I’ve scheduled an appointment for you next week with a therapist. She comes highly recommended, and I think she can help you.”

I know I need to hold my tongue, display some level of sensitivity. But the woman’s stubbornness grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Why won’t she take care of herself, goddammit? Why won’t she let me do it for her?

My announcement is followed by a few seconds of drawn-out silence. Everyone looks between Natalia and me, waiting for one of us to break the tension.

Natalia does the honors. “I should have known. I should have known this dinner came with a catch.” She looks around the table as though she holds everyone around it equally responsible for the ambush. “Who else voted for this plan? You, Kat?”

Kat rises out of her chair, shaking her head. “No, Nat. I had no idea?—”

“But you agree with him, don’t you?”

Katya hesitates. “Nat?—”

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