CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
D mitri
Oskar’s family oozes niceness, and I’m saying this after my face hasn’t quite healed from Coach’s punch.
But Coach was defending Oskar, and... I get that. I would punch anyone who hurt him. And yeah, I can see now that if this doesn’t go well, if we don’t convince the world that we’re in love, if he becomes a poster boy for green card fraud...that will hurt him.
Terribly.
When I imagined worst-case scenarios, I only thought about this not working for me. I couldn’t picture a world where Oskar wasn’t gliding toward his fantastic future. I know he’s just working for the team temporarily, that he took his LSATs this summer, that he’s applying to fancy law schools that will set him up for life.
Oskar is considering pursuing law. He can’t be found breaking US immigration law. I am so unworthy of this sweet, kind man. He moves with such grace, laughing with his sisters.
He seems to have relaxed from his initial unease, because this man was not made for lying, especially not to his family.
I’ve corrupted him in a million ways, and all I want is his happiness. Lately I’ve begun to think that maybe my very presence makes him unhappy. Why else would he scamper away when we’re watching movies on the couch?
The flickering candlelight plays across his face. His long lashes flutter when he talks, and I have an odd urge to trace his upturned Swedish nose and cup his full cheeks, rosy now from wine.
His sisters pepper me with questions. I’m too stiff with them, I know. But I’m not used to children, and I want these laughing, teasing, outrageous girls to like me. Normally, I don’t care what people think. This situation is novel.
“So tell me about your family,” Oskar’s mom asks. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No.” I furrow my brow. “I mean, maybe I have half-siblings. I don’t really know my father.”
“That must be difficult.”
I shake my head. “I never met him.” I give a soft laugh to prove to her that it’s not difficult at all, but it sounds hollow and horrible, and I press my lips together.
Does he have another family? Are they sitting around somewhere doing happy things together?
“Maybe he’s dead,” I say finally. “My mother said he was a soldier. But I guess I don’t know.”
My mother lied about a lot of things, and telling her son that her dad was a soldier and that’s why he never was around would be on brand.
Still, it’s definitely possible.
I tense. God, the only people I have to fight are on the ice.
Who was my dad?
“Is your mother still part of your life?” Oskar’s mother asks carefully.
“She passed away. But I still have cousins.”
“I’m sorry,” Oskar’s mother says, and maybe my emotions weren’t as masked as I thought.
“Overdose. It happens all over the world. Is not her fault,” I say, because I don’t want Oskar’s mother to think badly about her. I don’t want her to pity me. “She had me young. Her parents were not happy. They suddenly had another child to take care of and the apartment was tiny.”
“Skating must have been important to you,” Oskar’s mother says, changing the subject.
“I was lucky I was good at it.” I swallow hard, imagining for a moment if I hadn’t been. After all, I’m not good at anything else. “I was sent from my family when I was ten. Was better there.”
“They’re pretty strict in Russia,” Coach says, eying me. “You were Olivia’s age.”
“Was better than home,” I say.
“This is boring,” Olivia whines. “Russia, Russia, Russia.”
“I feel the same way.”
“How did you know that Oskar was the one?” Linnea asks, clasping her hands together and leaning forward.
Coach’s gaze narrows. I glance at Oskar’s mother, who gives me an encouraging smile. She seems to be really inviting me into the family. I thought she’d be suspicious and protective like Coach, but instead she acts like she’s been waiting for Oskar and me to get together.
Oskar and I are friends. That’s all. But is there another world where we could have been more? Where I could have seen him and decided I didn’t just want friendship, but something deeper? Where I didn’t just want to spend evenings watching whatever we watch, but wanted to spend them holding him and kissing him and more.
The man is fucking adorable.
Of course, I’m straight, so that world doesn’t exist.
That world is for some gay hockey player who met Oskar.
But Finn said he didn’t think he would ever be with a guy before he met Noah, that the idea had never occurred to him, and look at him now.
“Don’t bother Dmitri,” Oskar says, and I realize that maybe I should have answered his sisters.
“We met after a hockey game,” I say finally.
“That doesn’t sound romantic,” Olivia says, her brow furrowed in just the same manner that Coach furrows his brow during practice when he’s trying to impart some guidance to us and we’re not quite getting it.
“Guess we have a boring romance,” I say, squeezing Oskar’s hand.
“You forget that Dmitri looks very good in hockey clothes,” Oskar says. “And he’s an excellent skater.”
Olivia still looks skeptical, but Linnea nods her head.
“He’s super hot,” Linnea agrees.
“Oskar is hot too,” I say.
Oskar’s eyebrows shoot up like he didn’t expect that. I frown.
The thing is, I’m right. Of course, I’m right.
“He’s smaller than me,” I say, “but that’s cute. Everything about Oskar is adorable. Compact, but definitely hot.”
I take his hand in mine and meet his eyes. “Didn’t you know that?”
Oskar’s skin pinkens. “We, um, don’t have to talk about that.”
“I’m being serious.”
He nods, but he looks away. The thing is, this night feels very much not like a lie.
I wish this night were actually real. I wish I were actually meeting my in-laws, knowing this was the first of many family dinners and holiday celebrations and all the things actual, happy families do together.
Because there’s no one better than Oskar.
And he is handsome, even if he’s surprised that I’ve noticed. I’m straight, I’m not blind. Oskar’s features are delicate. He’s beautiful. He’s fit, but his body is never going to bulge with muscles and he’s not going to spend his time defending a net from flying pucks.
I place my hand on his thigh, because I’m pretty sure that’s something that a husband might do.
Oskar’s mother leaps up. “Who wants dessert?”
A chorus of “yesses” ring out from around the table. Oskar’s mother starts clearing plates, and I stand to help her.
“You don’t have to do that, Dmitri,” she says.
“That’s okay.”
“You’re our guest.”
I stiffen. This was feeling like we were an actual family, but of course she’s correct.
Her eyes soften. “But I would be very grateful if you helped.”
I nod and clear the plates.
Oskar rises, confused.
“Sit down, Oskar.”
Oskar gives me a worried look.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promise him, then just because I lean over him and kiss the top of his head.
Oskar’s skin turns that pretty pink color again, and my chest tightens as I observe him.
Coach clears his throat, and I scamper to the kitchen with the plates.
“I apologize for asking so many questions about your family,” she says. “I think in the US they call that putting people on the spot.”
“Is fine.” I inhale. “Thank you for raising such a great son.”
“I always thought you would get together. I’m glad you finally are.”
I frown, because Coach had to have told her. “We’re not...”
She tenses, and guilt surges through me.
“He is special man,” I say finally, and when she nods happily, I’m sure I’ve said the right thing.
“Get back in here,” Coach hollers. “I need to take some pictures.”
“You have your phone at the dining room table!” Linnea exclaims. “I’m not allowed the phone at the dining room table. That’s unfair!”
“That’s right!” Olivia echoes. “That’s unfair!”
They start jumping up and down while Coach’s face gets redder and redder. Olivia and Linnea should totally open a law practice once they’re old enough.
“Is for pictures of my first family dinner here,” I say.
The girls frown at me.
“Smile,” Coach says, pointing his phone at us.