As corny as it sounds, reality still warps whenever our eyes lock. I keep expecting that strange sensation to go away—that I’ll look over at her one day and it won’t feel like time is slowing—but it hasn’t yet.
“And? What does it mean?”
Mika’s mother gives me a secretive smile before moving to Mika and holding out the tray to her. Mika chooses a cup, but she doesn’t lift the saucer.
“Lemme see,” I murmur, this time nudging her in the ribs.
“No.” She lifts her chin. “Be patient.”
I start looking around, my stomach clawing at me for something red and bloody now that I know it’s an option. I glance at Kill sitting a few feet away. He’s staring into his cup with a faint frown on his face. Maddie is beside him, but she’s on her phone, her cup and saucer all but abandoned by her feet. Meisie, on his other side, has one twin in her lap, the other snoozing away in his stroller.
Even Mika’s brothers and sisters are here. I’d have thought she’d be sitting with them—especially Vanya—but she’s barely said two words to her.
Not for lack of trying. When we arrived, Vanya rushed up to hug Mika, and they shared a tearful exchange that consisted mostly of damp frowns and touching each other’s faces.
Then I came in with Tavisha’s baby seat dangling from one hand, and Vanya’s face lost all its color.
Since then, Mika’s sister keeps dodging her.
I can see it’s upsetting my wife, but what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t imagine what unresolved shit is floating between them—and I’m in no position to try and clear it up.
When I glance back at Mika, it’s obvious she caught me looking at her sister. There’s a brief frown on her face, but it disappears in favor of an unsettlingly deadpan expression.
“How long does this go on for?” I whisper, my cup and saucer rattling as I shift my weight. I don’t add that I’m starving—I’m sure she’s had enough of me telling her that the past few weeks.
“We still have to do the rice,” she says, and doesn’t seem to notice my prompting stare.
Rice?
Screw this.
I set my cup down under my chair and turn to Mika’s eldest sister, Tonya. I point at Tavisha’s baby seat, where the little baby lies fast asleep.
I’m a bit of a fortune teller myself. I told Mika her daughter would take after her, and she does. From her piercing blue eyes with their dark ring, to her white-blond strands of hair, to her little rosebud mouth.
“Could you watch Tavvy for a few minutes?” I whisper.
Tonya nods enthusiastically and gently pulls the baby seat a little closer to her chair. “Da.” Then she shoos me with a wave of her hand.
Christ, now I’m regretting my decision. There’s a particularly hungry look in Tonya’s eyes—and if I’m not mistaken, she’s the sister Mika mentioned can’t stop popping out kids.
She’d better not try and smuggle Tavvy out under her dress or something. Thing’s so fucking adorable, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried.
I grab Mika’s cup out of her hand, but only after a brief, silent struggle where Mika’s giving me an incredulous stare like she can’t believe I’m trying to rob her of her fortune-telling cup.
“I want to talk to you,” I tell her in a low voice.
She lets out a resigned sigh, probably already knowing what I want to say, and gets to her feet to follow me from the room. Most of the guests are focused solely on Mika’s mother as she goes around handing out the cups, but a few turn to watch us leave.
Like Dimitri.
I’ll never get over how weird is it that Vasiliev is my father-in-law.
Then again, I’m still in a constant state of disbelief that Mika finally said yes.
And that we got married.
I was convinced for months after that day in Asylum’s VIP room that she’d just said yes to stop me nagging her—and that I’d wake up one day and she’d be gone.