Chapter 43
NINA
There is a special irony in applying for a substance abuse fellowship when my husband is profiting from half of the city’s drug trade.
When I’ve done the paperwork — which has to be filed a year and a half in advance of when my fellowship would actually begin — I finally feel like I deserve the celebration Art has planned.
Recovering from a skull fracture and concussion has forced me to slow down.
To a literal snail’s pace. It’s thrown off the entire schedule of my residency.
I am determined to get it done, but when my reaction times are this slow and bright lights hurt this much, Middlefield is not the right place to be.
The upside is getting to spend more time with my family.
“I’m pretty sure you’ll get it,” Art says with a kiss on my temple when I press the submit button on my application.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not going to interfere with it, even if I don’t. Right?”
He holds his hands up, his lips quirking into a smile. “I would never dream of pulling strings to help my wife.”
“Bullshit,” I reply, but I can’t help the smile that creeps over my face at the reminder of what Art will do for me.
He’s packed the bags and organized everything for our first official family outing. This might be the first time that we’ve had a normal family day.
If you can call a helicopter ride out of the city, followed by a picnic on top of a mountain a normal family day.
We had to make Ava promise she wouldn’t touch the buttons at the front of helicopter. As we climb in through the door she looks like she might combust, but she keeps her hands to herself.
Even in the back, she could hardly sit still in the helicopter, looking out the window with her face pressed right against the glass, her eyes so wide it was like they were about to burst out of her head.
“Do we live there, Mommy?” she asked, pointing at the city when it was shrinking away into the horizon.
“That’s right, sweetie. Somewhere in there.”
“Where?”
Art pointed out the tallest building from this angle. “That’s our house.”
“Hi Babushka!” Ava waved at the skyscraper on the horizon as though Vanya was going to be able to see her from there. “It looks different.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Everything looks different when you’re in a helicopter.”
The helicopter lands in a perfect clearing. There’s not another person around, just miles and miles of untouched pine forest and wildlife. It’s quiet and perfect and miles away from the stress of the city.
Even without work, being a part of the Petrovs feels like a full-time job.
With Art taking over from Vanya, we have to maintain personal relationships with every important person in the Bratva.
He’s been a sweetheart, considering how tired I feel during my recovery, but being sucked into the whirlwind of his life is a whole new occupation.
I’m still getting used to the wardrobe required, let alone the different Russian foods involved.
I’m genuinely considering making a flashcard set to keep up with all the people, traditions and foods I’m encountering.
I never thought proper salad-fork etiquette would come up as a problem in my life, but here we are.
After our day-trip into the mountains, we have a family dinner to attend.
I sit at the other end of the table from Vanya, who I’m still refusing to speak to.
She’s been weirdly proud of me, as if she didn’t almost get me killed, and it gives me the heebie-jeebies.
I still need time to process the way that she casually had me kidnapped in order to prove a point.
In the meantime, I sit down at the kid’s end of the table with Ava and her cousins.
The conversation is way more exciting, anyway. Tonight I’ve managed to drag Art down here as well, where we are both being roped into an elaborate game involving trolls. Ava insisted on wearing her pink fairy wings to dinner, so she’s already dressed for the part.
“Mischka says you will be the queen soon, Mommy. And Daddy is the king.”
Mischka — Boris and Edwina’s child — is far too well-informed. I feel like Ava knows half the gossip in this place before I do.
“Sure, sweetie. That’s one way to look at it. Soon your daddy will be in charge.”
“So I’m the princess?”
I nod, laughing and squeezing her tight. “You’re the princess, baby.”
Ava’s face lights up.
“So when are we moving to a castle? And will there be a dragon?”
Art is not doing a good job at holding back his laughter. “We’ll do our best on the dragon.” I make a mental note to add them to Ava’s birthday present list.
I’m absolutely exhausted when we finally get back to our wing of the house, Art tucks Ava in, literally carrying her to bed because she’s so conked out from all the excitement.
He sits on the bed when we’re alone with a sigh. If Art’s tired too, it’s definitely been a big day.
I come up behind him and run my hands through Art’s golden hair. He tilts his head back to meet my eyes, a warm feeling zipping down my spine. His heterochromia gets me every time, knocking me off kilter.
“Gonna slap me if I kiss you this time?”
I pretend to consider it, wrinkling my nose. “I did slap your grandma kinda recently. Maybe I need to cool it, for a bit.”
Art gives a warm chuckle. “She loved it too. Maybe it’s a family trait, to love being slapped by Nina Porter.”
I think back to the night when Art reappeared in my life. How out of control I felt, like the orbit of my life was realigning. I was used to being alone. Used to fighting for everything.
Things are not perfect now, as the permanent dull ache in the back of my head and the physical exercises I have to do every day remind me. But we have each other.
I sometimes feel a twinge of regret about the time we’d wasted during our five years apart.
As Art stands up to meet me, his warm caress over my shoulders and his breath hot on my mouth, I let it fade away.
We found each other at exactly the right time. When we were ready.