Page 120 of Emerald Malice

Jealous of a fucking dog. Give me a break.

An hour later, we pull up to Aunt Annie’s place. It’s a narrow house, wedged between two others like an afterthought, though the bright yellow paint makes it stand out like a friendly face in a crowd of strangers. Fairy lights run the length of her fence and glittery baubles dangle from the emaciated tree in her tiny front yard. As the boys follow me up the narrow sidewalk, I can’t help but wonder if we’re all even going to fit inside this shack.

I almost lose my balance on the crooked front steps that lead to the door. When I look down, I realize what caught my toe: tiny handprints pressed into the concrete. The second step has larger prints. The third step, larger still.

“Mine,” Natalia explains when she notices me looking. “Ages two, four, and six. It was Dad’s idea.”

Natalia was here as a little girl.

I see the place through a child’s eyes, and just like that, it’s magical. Natalia must have loved it.

Before I can ask her, a woman’s voice shrieks through the thin walls of the house. “Nic-Nat!”

The door swings open, and Aunt Annie is much tinier than I expected. A full head shorter than Natalia and skinny as a whip. But her wiry hands clamp down on either side of Natalia’s face with force. “Baby girl, I’ve missed you.” She looks down and gasps. “And there’s the stomach! Oh, you’re glowing.”

Natalia waves away the compliment and turns to me. “Aunt Annie, this is Andrey. Andrey, this is the woman who raised me.”

“A pleasure,” I greet, offering Aunt Annie my hand.

She smacks it away. “Oh, there’s no need for stuffy old handshakes. Give me a hug.” As her arms clasp around me—as far as they can go, at least—she whistles. “Well, aren’t you a big man?”

“Aunt Annie!” Natalia chides, the faintest trace of embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. She waves to the security team. “This is one half of my own personal boy band—the blonde one is Leonty; the blonder one is Leif. The other two are taking a day off. Oh, and how could I forget my main man?”

I grit my teeth in annoyance as she calls Remi forward, then grit my teeth again when I realize how ridiculous that is.

Natalia notices nothing of the war raging inside me as she presents the beast to Aunt Annie like the damn canine is the star of the show. “May I present Remington Boone? Remi for short.”

Aunt Annie pops a squat in front of Remi and offers him her palm, which is shrewdly filled with dog treats. This isn’t the woman’s first rodeo, apparently. Remi accepts wholeheartedly, devouring the treats and then licking the hell out of the woman’s face for good measure as Annie and Natalia both laugh and laugh and laugh.

Then Leif, Leonty, and I squeeze our way down the narrow passageway and into a living room that is somehow narrower. It’s packed to the gills with all manner of random objects—crystal balls, assorted coffee mugs, things crocheted into shapes I barely recognize—and looks out into the backyard, where a beautiful cherry tree stands shedding pink petals on the grass.

Natalia veers straight for the windows. “How’s my cherry tree doing?” she croons as though she expects the tree to talk back.

Everyone takes off in different directions. Remi races out into the garden through the open screen door and Leif and Leonty join him, eager for a bit more breathing room. Aunt Annie seems to have disappeared, too.

“She’ll be in the kitchen getting snacks,” Natalia explains when she sees me searching. “She won’t be able to have a proper conversation until she’s certain everyone is well-fed.”

I can’t help but smile. This is what it would have been like to have a proper mother. Someone who vandalizes their own home in order to commemorate a child’s handprints. Someone who fusses over snacks for their kids’ friends, who hugs instead of shaking hands.

Someone who gives love away freely, as though it costs them absolutely nothing. As if the mere act of giving it away makes them that much richer with the stuff.

I never knew what that was like.

Aunt Annie appears moments later with a tray groaning under the weight of enough pastries to feed my whole damn Bratva. She takes it into the garden and leaves it there for Leif and Leonty, then brings a second, equally laden tray into the living room.

“Cherry pie!” Natalia cries out and claps delightedly. “Bless you, Aunt Annie. You’re a saint.”

But Aunt Annie doesn’t reply. Her gaze is fixed firmly on me. She’s wearing a little smile that’s polite but discerning.

And I understand right away.

She may be welcoming and gracious. She may be sweet and attentive. But she still hasn’t made up her mind about me. She still hasn’t determined if I’m good enough for her Natalia.

I can’t say I blame her.

42

NATALIA

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