“Max!” I hop off the bed, tugging my dress down.
“What? You don’t want to be a wet and dirty girl do you?”
I pause with my hand on the door. “Pay back will be a bitch.”
He smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I can’t wait to see you try, Mrs. Zimin.”
Dinner’s served, cake passed out (Roma and Max both agreed no singing) and most of the guests are gone.
The evening is quiet, the living room much cozier without staff milling around with platters. Max tucks me into a big, comfy chair he’s claimed as his own. Yelena keeps to herself in the corner and Irina and Lev argue in Russian.
“What’s this?” Elijah holds up a bag.
“It’s for Roma.”
Elijah peeks into it.
“Don’t poke into business that’s not yours.” Dima snatches the bag and hands it to his nephew.
Roma blinks. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Max says under his breath, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“Go ahead.” I motion for him to open it.
He plucks blue paper tissue out of the bag and lifts a bottle of whiskey. “Oh, wow. Thank you.” He smiles wide, his eyes crinkling. I’m feeling good until he passes it to his dad.
“Thank you, son.” Lev smiles down at it, pleased as a cat.
My mouth drops open. “But he’s the one that said you like that!”
Roma shrugs. “I’m more of a beer guy if I drink. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
Lev shows off the bottle to his brother.
“Did I just get played by Lev Zimin?”
“TheLev Zimin.” Max smirks, humor lighting his eyes.
“What about this one?” Elijah holds up another bag.
“For fuck’s sake.” Roma grabs it and passes it to Max.
“You didn’t have to,” Max murmurs.
I stay quiet. Everyone is peeking over. There’s another mountain of gifts thanks to the guests Yelena invited but the way Max’s family is acting, you’d think they never pass out presents on birthdays.
He carefully takes out the gold tissue paper, folding and smoothing it before reaching into the bag again. He pulls out two hardbacks.
Silently, he contemplates them. Lev comes around to glance over his shoulder, reading the titles.
“I noticed you had a lot by these authors.” His favorites if I had to guess based on the amount of books on his shelves. “These are their latest releases.”
They’re history books, something I’d find boring, but even I can admit the hardbacks are nice.
“Thank you.” His eyes shine bright.
Warmth tingles in my chest. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, picking out a gift. But when he hands one to his dad and the other to his uncle I can’t help but feel like I’ve achieved something great.