Page 6 of Forgotten Vows
A woman holding a toddler showed in the background behind Lev, and I realized he must have already spoken to them and invited them to come say hello.
Wiping my hands on my apron, I began to head out with what I hoped was an easygoing smile. Meeting anyone was difficult for me. How else could it be when I was constantlyonto assume everyone was out to get me?
“This is my mama,” Lev introduced as I stepped outside. He beamed at me, then volleyed his gaze between me and the new neighbor.
“Hello,” the woman replied, hoisting her young daughter higher on her hip.
She was no spy. The telltale signs of being a present and tired parent showed on her happy face.
“Hello. I’m Ms. Peterson,” I lied, using the basic alias I’d taken when I left my former life.
“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Monica Rafael. My husband Eliot is over there with our son, Timmy.” She gestured at the man and young boy, who, on cue, lifted their hands to wave.
I waved back, glad that the newcomers to my safe haven here were just ordinary folks, a family. For the next hour, Monica took it upon herself to talk, and talk, and talk. Perhaps it was the nature of being a parent and not having adult time, but she seemed overeager to chat nonstop with me. Her chatter and exuberant small talk led to us having a picnic outside as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood ordeal. We both brought simple dishes out and got to know each other a little more. Details weren’t offered from my side of the table. Lev knew not to talk much about himself, too. It wouldn’t have mattered anywaybecause both Monica and Eliot seemed to want to tell us their entire life story.
As we ate, I couldn’t help but watch them with envy. It was impossible to turn off the wishes that this could’ve been my life. Not the chattiness, but having a real family. A husband. Children, like more than one so Lev could have a companion.
A family was all I’d ever wanted, but I was cursed to have been born intothefamily. The Petrovs.
Who am I kidding? I’m all that’s left now.
I pretended to listen to Monica, but inside, I thought back to how many years had passed since my father was supposedly killed.
If only he could’ve died sooner…
I caught myself from letting out a wistful sigh. That wouldn’t do when I was smiling and inserting hums of acknowledgment so Monica could think I was listening.
As Lev chased the little boy in the yard, I smiled, glad that he could play with another child like this. From all that Monica and Eliot had shared, it seemed like they had no connection to the life as a Petrov that I’d left behind.
I’d almost lost him, and I would never ease up on guarding him, even here, now, debating whether I should be suspicious of new neighbors moving in.
A loud blast of a noise sounded. It startled me, making me tense. The toddler Monica held flinched as well. She wailed, crying at what was a truck backfiring nearby. We were both scared, but I masked it quickly.
That had sounded too much like a gunshot for my liking. It’d been years, but still, I was so damn jumpy.
Monica cooed at her daughter, rocking her and smoothing her hair down after the fright.
She’d get over it. I knew she would. The Rafael family was “normal”.
Unlike me. A lifetime of growing up in a Mafia family had left me traumatized.
“And this is a safe neighborhood?” Monica asked, tacking on the question at the end of a ramble she’d been giving me, one I’d lost interest in.
“Hmm?” I raised my brows.
“Just, you know, mother to mother. Thisisa safe neighborhood, isn’t it? A good place to raise a family?”
Her question sobered me. “Oh, sure. Of course.” I cleared my throat as I worked through the lie. “Very safe.”
I was a liar to confess that. Deep down,nowherefelt safe anymore, not when I dared to bring my son into the world at all.
3
IVAN
The day after Misha’s party, I returned to Luka’s home to discuss this newly formed but much belated idea of mine. I had to get away. I could call it a break. But it would be a physical removal from my day-to-day life to try to find closure on my past. On my loss.
I found Gabriella pacing in the hallway with a screaming Andre. Wincing at the loud decibel of the cries, I held out my arms to offer assistance—if she’d want it. If the baby was upset, she’d be the one to help.
