Preston
I regret agreeing to Vadim's visit the moment I hear his knock on the door.
Not because I don't want him here. I do. More than anything. It's just that in my excitement—not to mention surprise—at his suggestion to come down for a few days, I forgot to factor in one pretty big thing.
Me.
Specifically, how I look.
I've been so preoccupied with Dad and trying to help Mom as much as possible, I haven't given any thought to my appearance.
My hair is long and messy—even by my own messy standards—there are pronounced bags under my eyes since the headaches are making it near impossible to get any sleep, and I haven't shaved in days.
I look awful.
I'm going to open that door, and poor Vadim has no idea what he's in for. I wouldn't blame him one bit if he took one look at me then turned around and bolted for his life.
"You going to open the door, honey?" Mom calls out from where she's hovering in the kitchen…but with a clear line of sight to the entryway.
"Yeah," I say over my shoulder.
As I move closer, the dread only grows. I should have shaved. I shouldn't have agreed. I swing open the door, and there he is. Tall, with the kind of build that fills a doorframe, decked out in a black T-shirt and unzipped black hoodie.
I have to work a little harder to make out the finer details though.
His face comes to me in pieces, the way most things do lately.
His precision-sharp jaw. The bend in the bridge of his nose that I have to squint to see.
Those two intense gray eyes settling over me, accompanied by a warm wave of delicious relief that he's here… even if I am a total mess.
I lower my gaze and blink once.
Then a few more times.
"You're wearing jeans," I blurt out.
A sexy chuckle fills the air between us. "Not what I was expecting as a greeting, but I'll take it."
"Oh, god. Sorry. I don't know why I said that. And sorry for the way I look." I wave my hands in front of my face then down my body. "I'm a bit of a mess. And you've come all this way, and the first thing I say is—"
He steps in and shuts me up with a kiss, and I've never been more grateful in my life.
His familiar scent, dark and resinous, wraps itself around me as his hands slide around my waist, securing me in place. Yeah, like there's anywhere else I'd rather be than right here with him.
Thank god I at least brushed my teeth because this is way too good of a thing to miss out on.
His hands glide up my body until they're cupping the sides of my face, deepening the kiss, slow and certain, his mouth on mine, our tongues tangling. Months of distance collapse into nothing in the space of a few seconds.
When he finally pulls away, I hear a crinkling sound. "What was that?"
"These," Vadim replies a little sheepishly, lifting something off the porch floor he must've put down before knocking. "One bouquet is for you. The sunflowers are for your mom."
"Ohmygod. I'm going to start cryi—"
The tears beat me to the punch.
I take a step forward and collapse into Vadim. Both bunches of flowers drop to the porch floor as he holds me in his arms.
"It's okay. You're okay," he soothes, curling his fingers into the back of my hair. "And for what it's worth," he whispers. "You're not a mess. You're nothing short of breathtaking, mój kochany."
"I highly doubt that." I snort into his shoulder. "What did you say at the end?"
Footsteps approaching from behind quash Vadim's chance to answer my question.
"Christine," he says, gracefully scooping up the flowers and greeting her with a warm embrace. "How are you holding up?"
"Doing the best we can," she answers, brightening when he hands her the bouquet of sunflowers. "You really shouldn't have."
"It's the least I could do."
"And you really should be staying here with us, not at some hotel," she admonishes him, though there's no bite to it.
"It's fine, really. I don't want to be in the way."
"That's very sweet of you but unnecessary. If you change your mind, you're more than welcome here."
"Thank you," he says, glancing toward the blue sedan parked down the street where one of his men sits watching. "Perhaps we should go inside?"
"Of course. Come in, come in. Where are my manners? Eric is asleep, and I have some errands to run, so I'll leave you boys to it."
She presses a quick peck to my cheek, pushes the flowers into my hands and asks me to place them in a vase for her, and is down the porch steps and heading to her car before I can say a word.
Her exit isn't exactly discreet, but it is welcome. I'm dying for some alone time with Vadim that doesn't involve a screen and hundreds of miles between us.
We go inside, and as he's taking off his shoes, I can't help but feel a little self-conscious about the house.
It's a perfectly fine home, but Vadim grew up having an entire wing to himself.
What must he think of the worn couch, the dated wallpaper, the family photos covering every surface, the old refrigerator that's barely chugging along, covered in grocery lists and medication schedules held up by tacky novelty magnets, the stacks of bills arranged neatly on the kitchen counter?
Yikes.
Those I swipe and discreetly shove into the narrow gap beside the microwave.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"A glass of water would be great, thanks."
"Sure thing. Ice?"
"Just half."
I busy myself with getting ice from the freezer as Vadim says, "This place is nice. It feels homey."
I've got the freezer open so he can't see my face.
That's probably a good thing. I've never once felt bad about this home.
My parents were both hard workers and did everything they could to provide for Shannon and me.
We never went without a single thing. Shame lodges itself in my chest for even comparing this to what Vadim must be used to.
"Thanks." I slam the freezer door shut. "It's nothing fancy, but I love coming back here. It's home, you know?"
"Can't say that I relate. Thanks," he says as I hand him the glass.
I lead him into the living room since the dining table is a bit of a mess. He waits for me to choose a spot then sits down next to me.
"What do you mean you can't relate?" I ask, picking up where we left off.
"Nothing, really. It's just…how do I put this? You can somehow feel the love and warmth in this place. Look at the bookcase." He tips his head toward it. "Filled with family photos, right?"
"Right."
"This couch. I bet there's a story behind it."
I grin. "There is. Mom and Dad picked it up at a yard sale a few blocks away.
It was too big to fit in their car, so they trudged it home themselves.
Don't look on this side because there's a big dent from where Mom banged it against the door frame bringing it in, and instead of telling Dad, she just flipped the cushion and didn't say anything about it until he noticed it. Three years later."
Vadim chuckles. "That's really sweet. My family may have plenty of money, but we don't have many good memories."
I close my eyes.
"You okay, Pres?"
My headache that's been thrumming away all day just took a painful turn for the worse.
"I've just got a headache," I tell him since I'm not able to come up with a better excuse. "It's fine. It'll pass."
I open my eyes, and when he comes into focus, he's staring intently at me. "You sure?"
"Yeah." I nod.
We sip our waters without saying anything.
Vadim is the one to break the silence. "Did your mom say your dad's asleep?"
"Yeah, why?"
"So, he's…here?"
I nod again.
Vadim cocks his head. "Didn't the doctor recommend he go to a hospice?"
"He did." A defeated breath falls out of me. "Unfortunately, funds are tight at the moment, and with me not working—What are you doing?"
He's pulled out his phone as I was talking. "Looking up the nearest hospice. If it's a matter of money—"
"No," I say adamantly. "I won't let you do that."
"Good thing I'm not asking for permission."
A pulse of anger spikes through my chest.
"Vadim, no. This isn't part of the deal."
"The deal was that you and Ellie wouldn't be financially worse off because of what happened. You're unable to work and pay for your dad to get the care he needs, therefore, I'm simply stepping in to fulfill my side of the agreement."
I don't like it.
I don't like it one bit, but all my energy is consumed with trying to keep my face neutral as this headache kicks my ass.
I sip my water as he makes a call, inquires about a place for my dad, offers an obscene amount of money that sends my eyebrows soaring to my hairline when I assume he gets told there are no vacant spots, then starts nodding.
"Yes, for immediate admission. Actually, can you hang on for one minute?" He hits a button—I assume the mute button—and asks, "Will your mom be okay with this?"
Oh, her opinion he cares about.
I could be a dick and say she won’t approve, but I know that's not true. She's been just as racked with guilt as I have over our inability to afford hospice care for Dad.
I relent with a sigh. "I'm sure she would really appreciate it."
"Great."
He gets back to making arrangements with the hospice while I fish out my phone and send a voice note to Mom, asking her to come back home as soon as she can. Then I add that nothing bad has happened so that she doesn't freak out and think the worst.
I stare at Vadim for a long moment then speak into my phone. "In fact, something very good has happened."