Chapter 26
I’m sprawled on the couch, wearing a pair of leggings and one of Nik’s old T-shirts, when the sound of the front door unlocking startles me from my blank stare at the television.
I’ve been trying futilely to use it to occupy my mind.
Instead, I’ve spent my afternoon stewing in the pit of homesickness that has been gnawing at me for days.
The door pushes open as I sit up straighter.
Nik strides in with a broad smile that lights up his face and fills the entire apartment with warmth.
“I see you’ve made it far today,” he light-heartedly teases about my unkempt appearance, or the fact I haven’t exactly moved from the spot I was in when he left.
“Practicing being a kept woman,” I deadpan, noticing the white plastic takeout bags in each of his hands. And behind him—like it’s the most normal thing in the world—my brother, Alek, with a bag hanging from each of his as well. I blink in confusion, my jaw falling open slightly. “What’s going on?”
Nik sets each of his bags on the island and gestures for Alek to do the same. “Since I can’t take you to Armenia, I’m doing my best to bring it to you,” he shares matter-of-factly.
I continue to stare, my brain not processing what he’s saying.
Bring Armenia here? That’s impossible.
He starts unpacking bags, lining up takeout containers one after another, and popping open the lids.
My gaze spans across the island—kifta, tolma, still steaming lavash, a tray of brown bread, bright salads with parsley and lemon, and even a little box of paklava with powdered sugar dusting the seams. It’s a buffet of my childhood.
I can’t remember the last time I smelled all of this at once, the familiar spices—cinnamon, cumin, garlic, and mint—wrapping around me like a hug from another life.
The spread warms my heart so much that my chest tightens. I press a trembling hand to my mouth. Overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, my eyes sting hot, and I blink back the tears threatening to betray me.
With his hands still busy opening lids and arranging everything for our feast, Nik doesn’t look at me when he speaks again.
“I had Alek give me a list of your favorites. We had to drive to three different restaurants to get them all.” He glances up, his soft blue eyes locking on mine. “Hope we got it right.”
My throat closes up, and I choke, “Thank you.”
Alek snorts, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he is seeing or hearing. “Yeah, because he has any idea what paklava is.”
A broken laugh, mixed with a happy sob, bubbles out of me. Turning toward Alek, I step close and wrap my arms tight around him. “And thank you.”
“Who are you? And what did you do with my bratty, ungrateful little sister?” he jests, lightly patting my back. Pulling away just enough to study me, he adds, “You look different… Dare I say, happy? And without a black card in your hand.”
I swat at his arm, trying to play off what I know he’s hinting at.
“That’s what happens when I don’t have to share a house with you or those goons you call friends.
” But the truth is there. He can see it, and I can’t deny it—because he is right.
I’m different. Happier. I just didn’t realize it shows.
Nik clears his throat and gestures at the food. “Grab some. Eat… before it gets cold.”
The three of us gather around the island, creating a sight I swore would never happen—my brother and my husband willingly sharing a meal together.
Food passes back and forth between us, and plates fill quickly.
Alek pokes fun at Nik’s—supposed—culinary knowledge every time he mispronounces a dish from our home country.
The two of them shoot so much sarcasm at each other, I’m surprised they don’t wind up drawing their guns, while I’m laughing so hard that my stomach hurts.
As he teasingly fights with Nik, Alek keeps glancing across the island to me. Between mouthfuls, he blurts, “You don’t just look different. You laugh differently.” He shovels another forkful of tolma and talks around the food in his mouth. “Like you mean it.”
Heat flushes across my cheeks. He’s right. My entire life, I can’t think of a time that I have been as happy as I am here, in the forced marriage I was vehemently against. Staring down at my plate and concentrating far too hard on cutting a piece of kufta, I snip, “Shut up and eat, Alek.”
A small, soft laugh bubbles from him, but he doesn’t push.
We linger for over an hour, eating, talking, and just enjoying each other’s company. By the time Alek stands from the island, I am full in a way I haven’t been in years—not just my stomach, but also my heart.
“I’ll let you two newlyweds,” Alek pauses to overtly wink at me, “get back to… whatever this is.” Nik walks him to the door, and the two of them talk quietly for a moment, with both their gazes occasionally flicking toward me before.
The door clicks shut, and Nik crosses the room before gently pulling me toward the couch.
Stuffed with food to the point of almost being lethargic, I can’t bring it in myself to resist him. We curl up together, his arm draped around me and my cheek pressed so tightly to his chest that I can feel the steady thud of his heart beneath me. And I like it.
He strokes his hand lazily along my arm. “Tell me about your favorite place in Armenia.”
His request catches me so off guard that instead of answering, I blurt, “Why?”
“Because, my little pet, I think it’s time I learned a little more about my wife than how sweet her pussy tastes or that her lower lip quivers when she’s about to come.
“Nik!” I gasp
“What?” I can hear the smirk spreading across his face from his tone. “You do have a sweet little pussy. And I do actually want to know.”
“Lake Sevan,” I mumble into his chest without needing to think about my answer, able to see it when I close my eyes.
“It’s this huge lake, so blue it looks unreal.
In the summer, the beaches fill with families and vendors selling khorovats.
There are kids running into the water and music playing.
I used to sit on the rocks and just… watch.
The mountains spread across the background.
It’s so serene, it kind of feels like the whole world slows down there. ”
He listens quietly, his hand never stopping its leisurely path on my arm. When I fall silent, he tilts his head down, eyes catching mine. “Someday you’ll show me?”
Nik’s question hits harder than it should, pushing open a door to something I had not yet dared to imagine.
A life with Nik… with my husband. For a girl who doesn’t cry about things, I blink rapidly, fighting back tears…
again. And for the first time since Alek dragged me to this country, it kind of feels like maybe—just maybe—home isn’t quite as far away as I had thought.