Page 49 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
“Honey, I’ll be fine,” Martin replies tiredly. This must be a common discussion they have.
“Well, Maxim won’t be, and what kind of parents would we be if we let something happen to him on his first proper visit here, hmm?”
“He can take a little cold,” Martin replies.
“Maybe.” Susan lowers her voice. “But Hollie is here. Actually here, and not one of her usual fleeting visits. I want that to continue.”
“Does she not visit you a lot?” I ask over the top of my cup.
Susan’s cheek flush with embarrassment, and she shakes her head. “She’s very busy in the city, I know that. I try to bring her home for things, but I imagine you know how it goes. She’s so hardworking, but I miss her. Lunch yesterday was so nice, even if it was only for an hour!” Shaking her head, she waves me off. “I’m rambling. I’m just happy she’s here. I suppose I have you to thank for that. I don’t think she would have come by herself.” With a laugh, Susan hurries back inside before the cold consumes her.
Interesting. I was under the impression that Hollie saw her parents a lot, which is why lunch yesterday was so important. A lunch that only lasted an hour while Hollie was gone for several.
Something shifts uncomfortably in my gut as I gaze through the window. Hollie stands with her back to me and her head bowed, focused on some decorations in her arms.
Did she lie to me?
The concern doesn’t shift for the rest of the day as I’m in the garden helping Martin decorate the giant lawn tree. He keeps pressing me with questions about my work and my life, my family and intentions, but I dodge each one while sticking to the lie that I’m a simple private accountant. Finance is easy to hide in these days. By the time we’re finished, the giant tree is covered in glittering lights, sparkling baubles, miles of tinsel, and more handmade decorations than I can ever count.
“Good job.” Martin’s hand suddenly lands on my shoulder, and it takes all my self-control not to draw away from him. “It looks pretty damn fine.”
His sudden change in attitude is alarming, but as he flashes me a smile and trudges toward the house, I get a distinct feeling that I’ve just taken part in some kind of invisible test with him.
Does his change in mood mean I passed?
Martin heads into the lounge and I hurry to the kitchen, sticking my hands under hot water to revive circulation and wash off lingering glitter and dirt from the tree. Footsteps behind me make my back twitch, but I relax upon seeing Hollie.
“You and my Dad were out there for ages,” she says, turning on the kettle and gathering mugs from the cabinet above her. “What did you talk about?”
“Are you nervous I told him the truth?”
She freezes and looks at me, tucking her red hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Her eyes narrow. “You said you wouldn’t?—”
“I have no intention of hurting them,” I interrupt her gently as I turn off the tap. “He asked me a lot of questions and I answered them the way I always do.”
“Which is?”
“I’m an accountant. And I work a lot. That’s all there is to me.”
Her attention returns to the cups and she starts spooning in heaps of coffee into each mug. “Is he going to be in trouble for asking questions?”
She’s taken my threat on her family seriously, which is promising, but that strange weight on my chest increases slightly. After drying my hands, I massage my chest. “No. He’s just a father looking out for his daughter, and I can’t fault that. And your mother seemed to have a really good time at lunch yesterday.”
“Yeah.” Hollie nods while the kettle boils. “It was really good.”
“What did you two get up to?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “We just ate and talked.”
“For five hours?”
“Mhm.” Hollie doesn’t look up. “My Mom can talk and talk.”
She’s lying to me. Right to my face. Her mother claimed she was only there for an hour and now Hollie says she was there for longer.
