Page 6 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
These were the moments when I wished I weren’t handling it all alone. I knew Jasper tried his best to help, but being the older one, I was always inclined to shield him from the pressure.
I missed our dad. Shortly after Jasper was born, he passed away. I knew, if he were still here, I’d have more support—more options. But he wasn’t, and over the years, I grew accustomed to it. I shared more memories with him than our brother ever had the chance to, and I held onto every one of those memories as if they were priceless treasures.
The shower squeaked when I turned it off, and I grabbed the towel to dry off before stepping out.
I was done with the tears, but my eyes stung, and when I sat by the mirror on the small dresser to rub some lotion, they were puffy. I threw on a pair of fuzzy shorts, matching long fuzzy socks, and a baggy sweatshirt.
“Lee!”
The sudden excitement in Jasper’s voice forced me to stick my head through the door with wrinkled brows. “Yes?”
“Come! You’d never guess who’s here.”
Tossing the towel off my damp hair, I closed the door behind me and started for the box-sized living room. “Is Nana back?”
“Not Nana, but you’d never guess….”
I walked in just in time to see her rise from the couch with the brightest grin and arms widely spread. “Hi, Lena!”
“Oh, my goodness!” My heart felt like it leaped into space, and happy tears sprang to my eyes. “Katya?”
Having her physically present with me felt so surreal. I threw my arms around her before the next words left my mouth. “Oh, my. It’s been, what, three years? What are you doing here? When did you get back?”
Smiling, she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Three weeks ago. And I’m sorry I showed up unannounced, but I tried to put a call through, and it wasn’t connecting, so—”
“You’re sorry? Nonsense, Kat. You know you’re always welcome here anytime.”
I didn’t even have to ask her how she wasn’t wet from the rain. The white bubble umbrella leaned against a vintage backpack on the sofa was self-explanatory.Andthere was the black-tinted Mercedes she’d had since high school. I could bet it was sitting right outside the building now.
Among the number of people I’d interacted with and come across in my life, if I had to rank those who had the most comfortable lives, there was Jackie, and then there was Katya Yezhov.
Shewas the queen of luxury andmybest friend.
We met in high school, and, of course, it was the cliché situation of randomly meeting and clicking with one of the most popular kids from the elite clique.
She didn’t have to spend nights studying to write a scholarship examination for one of the most exclusive and prestigious high schools in the United States; I did.
She didn’t face problems with making friends; I did.
From a distance, she was that girl with the stereotypical and presumptuous perfect life going for her, and I wasn’t. I dealt with acne, and she had flawless pale skin; I struggled with being overweight in the judging eyes of society, and she could jog up a hill without breaking a sweat.Perfect shape.Those were the years when I thought the only thing I had going for me was my outstanding I.Q.
She was taller, prettier, and richer. But we both agreed I was better at statistics—and a handful of other subjects.
Katya once joked that she could command the world to fall beneath her feet, and, at the time, I summed it up as a bluff. But as we advanced in years, I slowly began to believe that she could.
As we grew closer, I noticed her life wasn’t as perfect as it was presumed to be. She rarely talked about her parents. The little I knew was that her mother died shortly after she was born, and her father hadn’t been present in her life since she was ten years old. Whoever they might have been, they were undoubtedly influential.
Bending forward to grab her backpack, I led her to my bedroom, with Jaz trailing behind us, holding a tray of scones and three mugs of hot chocolate. I rolled my eyes at his cheeky grin as he set the tray down on the bedside table and eagerly hopped onto the bed.
Between the two of us, I was sure he was happier to see Kat than I was.
Jasper snuggled into the center of the bed, legs crossed, with a scone in his mouth and a pillow wrapped in one arm, while Kat scooted closer to the foot of the bed, curling her fingersaround a mug of hot chocolate. They looked ready to jump into a conversation before I chose the exact moment to interrupt.
“By the looks of that heavy luggage you dragged in here, I want to assume you’re staying till the weekend.”
Resting against the wall, I crossed my legs and wrapped my arms around my body, watching Katya’s eyes light up in the familiar way they did seconds before she laughed.
It was one of the things I loved about her personality: how predictable her mannerisms were, how funny she was, and how free-spirited, kind, wild, and pure-hearted she was in the most unimaginable ways.
