25. Natalia
25
NATALIA
As I lounge back under an umbrella Andrey spent twenty minutes getting juuust right with Remi yapping at crabs in the sand while Misha chases after him, laughing, I know that squeezing my pregnant body into this swimsuit was worth every grunt, groan, and curse word.
The grunting, groaning, and cursing was from Andrey, obviously, since I can’t touch my toes, let alone reach around to tie a bikini into place.
“This is so cool.” Misha waves a seashell over his head for me to see. Then he presses it to his ear.
Yep, perfect.
The only thing that would make it better is…
I squint towards the boardwalk, searching for Andrey, but he’s nowhere to be seen. His search for hot dogs must’ve taken him farther down the walk.
It’s my fault. I told him I was starving and in desperate need of a snack. That was ten minutes ago, though, and now, a hot dog sounds disgusting. I want a pineapple.
I lie back on my foldable chair, toes curling into the beach blanket as I suck in another big, greedy breath of salty air. “Why don’t you get in the water, Misha? It looks amazing.”
Misha folds the seashell in both of his hands. “Nah. That’s okay.”
“Oh, come on! I’d be in there if I were you. But I’m me, and I’d probably float out to sea with this giant flotation device I’m carrying around.” I pat my stomach.
Misha kneels down to help Remi dig a hole. A crab disappeared into the sand and then popped up a few feet away, but Remi doesn’t know that or else he’d lose his mind barking.
I grab the overstuffed beach bag and pull it towards me. “I’m sure there’s a pair of extra trunks in here for you. Andrey thought of everything… Ah-ha!”
I hold up a pair of blue swim trunks, but Misha’s smile wilts at the sight of them. “I don’t want to get in the water, okay? Leave it alone.”
I open my mouth to argue when it hits me. “Misha, do you know how to swim?”
It never crossed my mind until now, but when would he have had the chance to learn? And who would have taught him?
We’ve been in the pool countless times, but he’s never actually swam a lap. I was always the one swimming while he lounged by the side, splashing his feet in.
He drops down onto the sand, his cheeks going scarlet.
“I’m so sorry. I never realized.”
“It’s easy to pretend around a pool,” he sighs. “But the sea is different. It’s scary.”
“I can teach you.”
He clams up. “You’re already teaching me enough.”
“Oh, Misha, life is all about learning. Do you think it ever stops? I’m pushing thirty and I’m still learning all sorts of things.”
“Like how to get along with Andrey?” he prods cheekily.
Using my toes, I whip a little plume of sand at him. “Learning to be a comedian now, are we?”
“Well, it’s hard not to notice that you two are… ‘getting along.’”
I frown. “Um, why was ‘getting along’ in air quotes?”
He blushes. “Never mind.”
“No, no, go ahead. Tell me what I’m missing.”
Misha reaches to pet Remi like the dog might save him, but Remi ducks away. Clearly, he’s smart enough to know he doesn’t want any part of this. “There’s been a lot of… kissing lately.”
Now, it’s my turn to blush. And here I thought we were being subtle. “That’s just—We’re not?—”
“It’s okay. It’s nice to see you guys getting along for once.” He wrestles a seashell from Remi’s mouth before the dog can swallow it. “When the two of you fight, it isn’t easy on anyone.” He grimaces like there’s more he’d like to say, but before he can, his gaze shifts over my shoulder. “Andrey’s on his way back.”
“Please tell me he’s got hot dogs with him.” All at once, they sound amazing again.
Misha laughs and jogs to help Andrey with all the goodies he’s brought back for us.
Like the smart man he is, Andrey bought me a hot dog and then walked another five minutes down the boardwalk to get me a fruit cup, a bucket of caramel corn, and a bag of pickle-flavored beef jerky.
“In case your pregnancy cravings have gone off the deep end and your taste buds are broken,” he explains.
Fifteen minutes later, my stomach is larger than ever and my heart is full as Misha sets off towards the shore. Remi’s already prancing around in the tide, tail wagging as he splashes. Andrey’s sprawled beside me on the beach blanket, arms behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles.
“Thank you for today.” I break the peaceful silence. “A surprise beach trip is something I didn’t know I needed.”
He squints up at me. “I think we all needed it.”
Misha is squatting in front of the water, dipping his hand in whenever the waves venture close enough to touch.
“He doesn’t know how to swim.”
“I know.”
I turn to him. “You did? Since when?”
“A few months ago.”
“ Months?! ” I gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think he’d appreciate me telling you. And I didn’t think you’d appreciate me being within earshot of you long enough to tell you. We weren’t exactly in a good place at the time.”
I hear Misha’s voice in my head. It isn’t easy on anyone. God, it was selfish of me to assume I was the only one suffering back then.
“We can’t do that anymore, Andrey. No matter what’s happening between us, we have to be able to talk to each other. When it comes to our children, we’re on the same team, okay? Always.”
He nods. “Always.”
The tightness in my chest alleviates. Well, marginally. But I know from experience that making pacts is all well and good—keeping them is the challenge. Especially when you’re wading knee-deep in anger and bitterness.
For now, though, the sun is shining and pacts about love and loyalty feel like they’ll stand the test of time.
Smiling, I slink my way down onto Andrey’s towel—at least, to the extent that a land whale like me can “slink” anywhere these days—and press a kiss to his sun-warmed cheek.
“Always” sounds good to me.
The high of the beach trip carries over to Monday morning.
I pop out of bed with a giddy song in my heart and a pep in my step. It’s been hard to get my ass in gear and get to work lately, but I’m excited about it today.
“Who would have thought going to work at an insurance company could put that smile on a girl’s face?” Aunt Annie teases from bed when I stop in to check on her in the morning.
I think what Andrey and I did to each other in bed post-beach has a lot more to do with the smile on my face, but that is filed firmly under “Things I’ll Never Tell My Aunt.”
“I’ve just got a new lease on life.”
“And does that new lease on life have anything to do with the handsome man you’ve got in your bed every night?”
I almost choke on my tongue as I whirl around. “How do you know we’re sleeping—sharing a bed?”
“Your bodyguards talk too much.”
“Leif or Leonty?” I demand. “Secrecy is part of their whole thing. I’m gonna make Andrey fire them.”
Aunt Annie laughs. “Oh, go easy on the boys. They spend their days following you around, making sure you’re safe. The least you can do is provide a little palace intrigue from time to time. Now, off you go. Go remind the world you’re a hard-working, independent woman who doesn’t need a man.”
Laughing, I kiss her forehead and walk onto the porch—and almost collide into Andrey. He grabs me before I can stumble over in my heels.
“You alright there?”
I cling to his bicep. “I’m better now. Where are you off to?”
“Nowhere.” Remi nips at my heels and gives Andrey’s hand a lick. He’s been around the house a lot more the last few days. Every hour, it feels like we’re taking another step in the right direction.
“I wanted to give you this.” As I raise my eyebrows, he leans in and kisses my lips. “Have a great day, lastochka .”
I practically float to the armored jeep. I don’t even care that Leonty, Olaf, and Leif are exchanging knowing looks with each other.
I hum under my breath as we meander through the endless Midtown traffic. I’ll be a few minutes late, but that kiss was definitely worth it.
As we round the corner to the building, I’m gathering up my bag when the boys start speaking Russian.
That’s rarely a good sign.
“What’s going on?”
Before they can answer, I catch sight of the police car parked along the curb. Judging from the looks on the men’s faces, they don’t like this any more than I do.
Leif twists around in the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry. This most likely has nothing to do with you. Just go about your day as if everything is normal. We’ll investigate.”
I make it all of two steps into the office before he’s proven wrong.
Marge calls out my name. “Natalia,” she says as the door swings open. “There are officers here to see you.”
I turn around and try to smile—try to take in anything about the men in case it becomes important later—but my eyes keep falling to the shiny guns on their hips.
One is in an NYPD uniform, a gun gleaming in the holster at his side. The second is wearing a sloppy brown suit, a plaid tie, and a curved smile.
“Good morning, Ms. Boone,” the one in the brown suit says. “I’m Detective George Harris. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”
I force my gaze to stay on him instead of looking towards my bodyguards. “I’m sorry—what is this regarding, Detective?”
“The disappearance of your colleague,” he says, that smile not moving even the tiniest bit. “Mr. Byron Wells.”