40. Laila
40
LAILA
I can’t take my eyes off the sign hanging over the entrance of my yoga studio.
The Rose Garden.
It’s a little on the nose, but hell, I’ve earned the right to be sentimental.
I’m plucking a champagne flute from the drink table when I notice someone walk past the front window. The grand opening celebration isn’t supposed to start for another hour, but I nod to the beefy security guard at the door to let them in.
If someone else is as excited as I am for things to get rolling, they’re more than welcome inside.
The moment the door opens, I regret my decision.
My father shuffles into the studio like he’s too tired to pick up his feet. His eyes dart around the space, and I’m sure he’s putting together an itemized list of what a place like this must have set me back—and how much he could hawk it all for.
I thought he was gone. I thought he left.
When I last asked, Arsen told me he was far, far away. Part of me wondered if Arsen did what I didn’t have the strength to ask him to do and killed my father. I can’t say I would’ve mourned him.
But here he is.
All I can do is stare at him, wishing there was someone next to me. Arsen is getting Nina dressed, Kira wanted to help but Misha came down with the sniffles, and Guilia just left to go gossip with the waitstaff at Carrie’s Bakery next door.
Finally, he turns his gaunt face to me. His weight loss makes him look like a bird of prey. “Looks like congratulations are in order.”
The guard who just let Charles in takes a step towards us, but I wave him off. “It’s okay, Xavier. I’ve got this.”
At least, I hope I do.
I straighten my back and square my shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here because I wanted to see you.” Charles looks nervously towards the guard.
“Huh, how ‘bout that? So there’s really a first for everything.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Lucky for you, most things aren’t fair. If they were, you’d be in prison. Or worse.” The threat sends his gaze sweeping around the room, and I know who he’s looking for. “Relax. If he was here, you never would’ve made it through the door. But you should go. He’ll be back soon.”
Charles’s eyes darken. “He’s not a good man, Laila.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I scoff. “Now, get out.”
He lunges closer and grabs my hand before I can scurry out of reach. “You’d really choose someone like him over your own father?”
I rip myself away from him with just enough time to stop Xavier from tearing his arm off at the shoulder. Then, with one more whispered word to Xavier that it’s all okay, I turn back to my father. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “The man ran me out of town with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
“Aww. Did you expect a going away party?”
“I expected my only child to have a little more sympathy for her only living parent. If not for me, then at least out of respect for her mother’s memory.”
I take a step forward, my hands tucking into fists. “How dare you bring up Mom?!”
“She loved me,” he declares, chin held high and haughty.
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
His teeth grind for a moment, but then his shoulders slump and his face falls. When he speaks again, his voice comes out raspy and hollow. “I want to see my granddaughter. I want to watch her grow up, Laila.”
The words suck the air out of my chest, leaving my lungs feeling as cold as ice. “You didn’t care to watch me grow up. Why would you care about Nina?”
“Like you said, everyone makes mistakes.”
I can see it now—the machinations behind his every decision. There’s a reason for his tears and the pout of his lip. Nothing he does is uncalculated and it never will be.
“You’d know, wouldn’t you? You’ve made more than your fair share. After all the mistakes you’ve made, the least you can do is be honest about why you’re really here.”
“I want to make amends?—”
“Bullshit!” I cry. “Let me take a wild guess. You’re here for the house. Well, I’ve got news for you: it’s not my house anymore. I sold it. The deal closed a few weeks ago.”
He swallows. “I know.”
I almost want to laugh. “So that’s it. You came for your cut.”
“I need to survive, Laila?—”
“Get a job.”
“How can you be so cold?”
“I guess I take after my father,” I spit.
Xavier opens the door as Guilia sweeps inside. She stops short when she sees me and my father, the diamonds around her neck twinkling in the soft candlelight. “Is everything okay, Laila?”
“Everything’s fine,” I assure her. “Charles here was just leaving.”
“Charles?” Her lips pucker and her cheekbones hollow. When she snaps her fingers, security converges around us.
I really have to start taking notes on how she handles business.
“This is an exclusive event, and you —” She glares at my father. “—are not on the guest list.”
“I’m here to see my daughter,” he protests.
“You’ve seen her.” I slide next to Guilia. “Now, she’s kicking you out.”
“Laila—”
“Enough!” My voice feels unfamiliar, even to me. Honestly, it’s a little bit terrifying. “I’ve put up with you for longer than I should have. This is my life and my family, and I will protect what I’ve built. If you show up again, I won’t just sic my bodyguards on you; I’ll sic my husband on you. I’ve been holding him back, but that ends now.” Finally, I nod to Xavier. “Show him out and make sure he doesn’t come back.”
As soon as my father is dragged from the premises, I sag against the nearest table. “Thanks, Guilia.”
“For what? You were handling that perfectly well on your own.” She grabs my shoulders and stands me up. “You’re a queen now, and it’s about time everyone knew it.”
I blow out a deep breath, releasing the knot of tension I’ve been carrying around for my father for way too many years.
“Is that your way of telling me we still have a lot to do before the party?”
“Sure.” She spins me towards the dessert table in the back. “Get your yoga-toned ass moving. We have work to do.”
An hour later, Guilia clinks her butter knife against her champagne glass and cuts through the soft chatter in the studio. “Give us a toast, Laila!”
I throw her a dirty look, but she’s all innocent smiles and encouragement. “I told her I didn’t want to do a speech,” I mutter under my breath.
Arsen just pushes me towards the center of the room. “You’ve handled worse than this. I believe in you.”
He has no idea how right he is. I haven’t told him about Charles’s drop-in because I didn’t want my father, once again, overshadowing an important moment in my life.
But as I stand under the overhead lights that have suddenly gone from “soft and cozy” to “piercing and blinding,” I don’t think I’d mind a distraction. There are too many eyes on me, and I don’t have a single thought in my head that I could say out loud.
Then I find Arsen as he takes his place in the crowd. He’s back at our table, Nina balanced on his hip. The two of them brought me a bouquet of flowers when the night started—roses, of course—and Nina is currently making sport of shredding the petals from the stems one by one.
His eyes find mine, and all the fear vanishes.
That’s my husband, I can’t help but think proudly. That’s my rock.
Suddenly, I find myself lifting my flute of champagne.
“This yoga studio has been a labor of love,” I start, my voice wobbling with emotion. “It’s been months of planning, designing, and organizing. But really, even before that, it’s been years of dreaming, hoping, and flailing. Today, finally, my dream has become a reality. And I couldn’t have done it without my friends and family.
“To Guilia, Kira, Polina, Dominik and Gedeon—thank you for all the love and support. To all my guests here today, this wouldn’t have been a celebration without you. And of course, to my husband…” My voice quavers again, but I rally, determined to end strong, “You’ve been my greatest champion through this whole process. I couldn’t have done it without you. Which is why I dedicate this toast to you. Please join me in raising a glass to my husband, Arsen, for keeping me in roses all year round. I love you.”
Then there’s the clinking of champagne flutes, cheers of congratulations, and the general revelry of a night filled with great booze and delicious hors d’oeuvres.
Arsen hands Nina to Polina and meets me in the center of his room, engulfing me in his arms. “Thank you for the shout-out,” he murmurs in my ear. “It was unnecessary, but appreciated.”
I press my lips to his neck. “It was most definitely necessary. All this was possible because of you.”
“I owed you.”
“You owe me nothing but your love and devotion.”
“That I can do,” he says, brushing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
I arch a brow. “What do you mean?”
“You might be fooling everyone else, but I know you, Laila Adamov. You’re nervous about something. What is it?”
Sighing, I smooth my hands across his lapels. “You’re too observant for your own good.”
“When it comes to you, I don’t want to miss a thing.”
I pull him to a quiet corner of the studio where a member of the waitstaff is refreshing the canapes. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
“I don’t like how this is starting.” His voice is a dangerous rumble.
“I already handled it. The situation is under control. I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”
He frowns, and I watch the question on his lips turn to an answer. “That motherfucker. He actually had the balls to show up here?”
“Like I said, I handled it. Guilia’s guards kicked him out after I had it out with him. It was kinda cathartic, actually.”
“I wish I’d been here.” There’s murder in his eyes, but it softens as he looks down at me. “And if he’s stupid enough to come back? We both know your father’s idiocy knows no bounds.”
“If he does, we’ll handle it together.” I take his hand and curl it against my chest.
The muscle in his jaw is thrumming, but he forces out a hard breath. “Together,” he murmurs. “Always.”