Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Catarina
Something is off with him. I gaze over to Matysh, who’s pacing the floor in the foyer while I sit in the armchair, my book on my lap, and the Christmas tree sparkling in the living room. He’s so fucking hot and cold.
It’s been days since the Christmas tree went up. Days since he fucked me. Days since he acknowledged me at all.
And now we’re having a family dinner.
Wonderful!
This dinner was a last-minute idea. I think it's a large part of why he's stressed out and distant, though I’m not sure why I care at all.
This will be the first time my father and Dimitri, his father, actually speak in decades. They saw each other at my wedding to Mikhail, but we took great care to make sure they didn’t kill each other. On top of that, it's Matysh and his family's first Christmas without Mikhail.
There's going to be a very delicate balance of emotions today. And I’m not sure where I fall in any of it.
“My parents will be here in ten minutes,” Matysh stops in the doorway, looking at me.
I nod. My father is coming a little bit later, missing the beginning of the meal because of some work he has to tend to.
Of course, he's as vague as possible about what it is and can't even take time off to have dinner with his daughter.
This marriage was largely his idea and now he's just washing his hands of it.
Though I shouldn't have expected anything else from him. He’s managed me enough.
The doorbell eventually rings and Matysh jumps to answer it. I follow close behind, prepared to greet my in-laws. I feel a weird apprehension in my gut at the idea of it. Mostly because I’ve already met them.
I know them, I've already schmoozed them to the best of my ability because I wanted to marry their other son. And at that time, he was an enemy.
Now I'm here, married to Matysh and hosting a Christmas gathering. I figure they're going to feel a little whiplash from that. I mean, I do.
“Matysh,” his father, Dimitri, says in a low voice, stepping forward and giving his son a hug. Polina, his mother, steps around and greets me with a hug, handing me a gift bag heavy enough that I nearly drop it to the ground.
“You don't have to bring us anything,” I say with a smile, not looking inside the bag because it would be rude to do that right away.
“Please, consider this a Christmas and wedding gift,” Polina says, her eyes scanning my face for any indication of my reaction. My heart trips in my chest. I don't know what to say, so I just smile and nod my head, leading them away from the foyer to the living room.
They admire the Christmas tree we put together and comment on the decorations strewn about the room. Matysh bought so many Christmas ornaments that I ended up hanging a few of the wreaths and garlands all around, then hanging bulbs, tinsel, and lights from them like they were their own mini trees.
The entire room looks very festive. Kind of like the decoration store threw up here. But I still like it.
All of us sit down in the living room and Matysh stands up to go make drinks in the kitchen. That leaves me alone with my in-laws, desperately trying to think of anything to say to them.
“It's funny how things have worked out this way,” Dimitri says, staring at me with a surprisingly warm smile as he arranges his cane beside him. “I don’t see it as a bad thing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, smoothing out my skirt.
“We were so excited to invite you into our family, and even in the face of disaster, we still get to,” he continues. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I don't know if this is supposed to be some kind of a slight, but I find myself taking offense. I can read between the lines and it seems like they think I had some kind of ulterior motive in this.
Do they think I was only with Mikhail because I wanted to ingratiate myself with the family?
Matysh comes back in before anyone can say anything else and the conversation topic is quickly changed. Regardless, I find myself still thinking about it.
And hating it all nonetheless.
I watch Matysh interact with his father, his demeanor warm and different than usual.
Maybe it’s because of his parents’ aging.
Dimitri is very old, but I'm not sure of his age exactly.
Looking at him, I assume he's at least seventy-five, and years of stress and fighting have caught up to him.
Yet even though he looks worse for wear, he seems to refuse to acknowledge it.
He chooses to stand and look at the decorations, his hand shaking on his cane as Matysh tries to guide him back to a chair.
It's actually…sweet.
The four of us make conversation, mostly small talk about the holiday season and they share some of the same memories about Christmas that Matysh told me when we decorated the house together.
It's strange hearing about Mikhail from them. I feel distant from him. More so than ever.
When we were engaged and planning the wedding, I dreamed of moments like this with Mikhail by my side. Weeks ago, if I'd have known it would be Matysh instead, the very thought would have made me cry. But now, I feel… indifferent.
Maybe I can live with this.
“This is a hard year,” Dimitri says, taking a deep breath as he sips on a small glass of bourbon. “Mikhail's death was unexpected, and all of our hearts are still broken. But in the wake of that, I can see something beautiful has bloomed.”
He grabs Polina’s hand and squeezes it, both of them staring at me and Matysh with weary smiles.
“It means a lot to me that you think that,” I say, clearing my throat as I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes unwantedly. “I know none of this was in our plans, but considering everything we've all gone through, I think things are working out nicely.” For marrying a monster, that is.
Leonidas walks into the living room with a smile on his face, asking all of us to head to the dining room for dinner to be served.
My dad still isn't here, but that's not surprising. Lord only knows what—or who—he's doing right now.
We take our seats at the table and are served our first course of the meal.
Leonidas’ take on pirozhkis. We all excitedly bite into the food, commenting on how Leonidas took something so simple and common, turning it into an upscale dish.
What is usually a sandwich you could eat with your hands has been turned into an elegant pot pie filled with a soupy version of the filling and a delicate, flaky crust.
It's impressive, and I know my father would think so, too…
If he was here.
“How are you two getting along?” Polina asks between bites.
I turn to Matysh and raise an eyebrow, not knowing what exactly he would tell his parents.
I've grown up in this lifestyle long enough to know that the truth isn't always the best option.
If they hear how he's been behaving lately by attacking people for dancing with me or flirting with me, they might not approve.
But then again, I don't think Matysh would care.
“It's been rocky.” Matysh puts his fork down and stares at me. “We're still getting to know each other. But you know how business works.”
“I'm sure it doesn't help that this wasn't a marriage of love,” Dimitri says, looking between us with a wariness in his eyes that strikes me. Not long ago, he was saying this looked like a good thing.
Why the sudden switch up?
Matysh stares at his father with a stoic expression, then goes back to eating after taking a slow breath. I wish I could read his mind to see what's going on behind his eyes. He’s so fucking impossible to read.
I take one more bite, and as I chew, the doorbell rings.
My father is here.
Matysh’s eyes fall to his hands. His body tenses in front of me as he grips his cutlery in his hands. One of the house staff answers the door while all of us stay seated, and I hold my breath waiting for something to happen.
Maybe merging families was a terrible idea. Of course, it was. I already knew that though. I didn’t fucking ask for this. They made me.
“Hello,” my father enters the formal dining room. Matysh is the first to stand as he's the man of the house. I follow as we're hosting this dinner together, and I meet my father’s gaze as he walks around the table to me. “Catarina.”
“Papa,” I give him an expectant hug, feeling no warmth from it.
He then turns to Dimitri. “It’s been quite a long time, hasn’t it?”
My heart beats rapidly in my chest as Dimitri stands up, leaning heavily on his cane as he walks around the table to hold his hand out.
All of us stare while my dad contemplates accepting the gesture. When he finally does, I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.
“This is the start of a new era,” Dimitri grunts. They pull their hands away from each other and everyone sits back down at the table.
“It is indeed,” my father agrees, nodding his head in thanks as a plate is brought out for him. “These are the first steps toward forgiveness.”
My skin burns. Everyone at the table sensed the underlining meaning of the sentence.
Dimitri stares at him, his blue eyes cloudy and weak, but still filled with an ire he’s spent years cultivating for my father. “Forgiveness? I thought this was about peace.”
“Can it not be both? A debt paid and a new beginning?” My father stares Dimitri in the eye, unblinking.
Oh, shit.
These two have needed a conversation for a very long time. Instead of meeting up to discuss their differences like civilized adults, they've been ordering strikes at each other and killing off allies, stealing and claiming it as repayment for some undisclosed debt.
It’s like two fucking grown toddlers at war. It’s ridiculous. But this is the way it works in this world.
I catch Matysh's eyes across the table, and I see the fury brewing behind the cool blue irises. He has no love for my father, either. This was supposed to be a peaceful dinner with no business talk, and my father immediately disregarded that rule within minutes of arriving.
Typical.