Chapter 15
A week later they were married. They had planned to go to the courthouse but, as usual, the Russians threw a cog in the machinery.
“No guests? No church?” Yuri said, personally affronted by the lack.
“It’s not a real marriage. It’s a quickie ceremony for legalities,” Dexter reminded them.
“Yes, but…where is romance?” Maxim said. For a group of siblings who bickered constantly, they certainly agreed about almost everything.
“There’s not supposed to be any romance because, see, it’s not a real marriage,” Dexter said.
“But…God,” Andrei whispered, ducking the coming lightning bolt.
“Is not proper,” Ivan chimed in.
Dexter had resisted squeezing the bridge of his nose for as long as he could. Now he did so, squeezing his eyes closed, too. “The wedding is tomorrow. I can’t book a church and pastor on this short notice.”
“Leave to us,” Yuri said, rubbing his hands together.
“We will tell you when and where to show up. Is no problem,” Andrei agreed. The remaining brothers nodded their agreement and Dexter knew it was pointless to argue.
“Fine,” he said, defeated. The brothers traded triumphant glances that soon fled when they realized who was standing in the doorway. “Sonya,” Dexter added in the same hopeless tone. He had managed to avoid Sonya since their last disastrous encounter. At the sight of her now, he had to suppress a shudder and the urge to pop another mint.
“We will go,” Yuri said, eyes darting furiously for escape. Though they were exponentially larger, all of them cowered in the face of their sister’s withering glare.
“Stay, goon squad,” she said, to the relief of Dexter and combined disappointment of the others. “This is business. Though maybe Dexter and I will have time for pleasure after.” She tossed him a coolly threatening stare. He tried not to wince and squirm with gathering dread.
Sonya sank gracefully into a chair, crossing her perfectly sculpted legs. As far as Dexter knew, she had never worked out a day in her life. Rather she was one of those rare people preternaturally gifted with both unbearable beauty and a pristine figure.
“So,” she began. Even before she spoke, she had the men’s captivated attention. She was one of those women, the magnetic sort who drew all eyes and ears. “We have problem.”
The Popovs liked to use dramatic pauses as much as they enjoyed dramatic screaming and physical signs of machismo. Dexter waited her out but when it became clear she wouldn’t speak again until prompted, he spoke.
“What?” He was more than a little wary that whatever she was up to had something to do with his wedding, but she soon dispelled that notion.
“While you boys have been playing love connection with Dexter and girl, we’ve gained a competitor.”
“Bah,” Yuri said, waving a hand. “Competitor. Who can compete with us? Is nothing. Is gnat to giant cow.”
“Maybe. But soon could be entire colony of gnats that will devour cow,” Sonya proclaimed and once again the men were silent.
“Who?” Dexter asked.
“A new company, fresh from Hungary.”
Andrei hissed. In the litany of things The Russians detested, other Eastern Europeans ranked near the top.
“They can’t gain on us,” Maxim declared, banging a fist. “They couldn’t possibly. There are five of us. We are Russian. And we have Dexter.”
“Do we?” Sonya quirked a perfectly shaped brow at him. “Dexter seems awfully distracted lately. By love .”
Dexter didn’t reply because not only was he not in love, he knew for certain this part of things was merely Sonya’s possessive jealousy. Silence was his only weapon, and it was formidable. When he failed to make a reply, she gave a pouty “tsk” in his direction and refocused on her brothers. “I am telling you, this is competition. Is trouble.”
“What should we do?” Ivan asked, splitting the question between Dexter and his sister.
“I know arsonist who…” Sonya began, but Dexter held up a hand, cutting her off.
“We do nothing. We keep being excellent and let our reputation speak for itself. We are the number one restaurant supply business on the east coast, soon to be number one on the west coast, as well. We keep our heads down and ignore the so-called competition. And we keep our noses clean.” He eyed all the Popovs, including Sonya who still looked mutinous over the rebuff of her arson offer. Or perhaps the rebuff of so many other things.
“Dexter is right,” Yuri said at last with a nod. “We are best. Let Hungary try to catch up. We will devour them.” He smashed his meaty fist into his other meaty palm and ground it back and forth.
Reassured, the other brothers moved on to a new topic—the extreme superiority of Moscow to Budapest. But Sonya remained focused on Dexter, eyebrow still arched in what could either be challenge or warning. In Sonya’s case, it was probably both.
L ainey stared at herself in the mirror. A bride. Obviously none of it was going according to plan. Her family wasn’t here, nor did they even know about it. She wasn’t marrying Ian, as she had thought she would since she was thirteen years old. Ian was far away, if not physically then definitely emotionally. They hadn’t talked since her bombshell announcement, nor would they. If there was one thing she knew for certain about Ian, it was that he couldn’t handle the difficult emotions of life. It was why he didn’t want to settle down, now or possibly ever. He ran from the hard stuff in life with the same tenacity he ran toward buildings that were on fire. It was uncanny, when she thought about it, how a man could be both so physically brave and emotionally fragile.
But today wasn’t about Ian. It was about the near stranger Lainey was about to marry. What did she know about Dexter, really? Not nearly enough, not enough to marry him for real. He was straight laced and buttoned down, but not lacking a sense of humor. He was much too reserved with physical affection, almost skittish when it came to giving and receiving hugs. He was nice. Settled. Normal. Previous to this moment, those things would have triggered Lainey’s gag reflex. She wanted adventure! Passion! Romance! The very last thing she wanted was a normal, average guy who doled hugs like Hanukah gvelt, once a year for special occasions. But now that she was here and about to take the plunge, she felt an odd sort of peace. Dexter was kind . He was loyal . He was there , so very there. He was the sort of person who would take care of you, if you ever got sick. He had carried her to the couch when she fell asleep on him. How many times had he covered her with an afghan? He even washed her towering mound of dishes, and not because he was trying to make a good impression, but merely because it was the sort of person he was. He was a doer, a worker bee. Until she became friends with him, Lainey had no idea how comforting it would be to have someone like that in her life.
She was from a family of dreamers. Even her emotionally unavailable brother, Murphy, lived in the clouds, in his way, always more enamored with the possibility of a new venture than the actual work it took to get there. Just like their dad. Just like me, she thought and quickly quashed it. She was not like them. She was killing herself to prove otherwise. For goodness sake, she was marrying a stranger for the sake of keeping her business afloat. If that doesn’t say stability… Wait, no, that actually says the opposite…
Once again she cut off the flow of her thoughts and focused on her reflection, tucking a stray hair, patting smooth a tiny imperfection in her eye shadow.
Someone knocked on the door to the room she was using and opened it before she could answer. “Lainey, are you ready? It’s time.” Dexter swung the door wide and stood in the entryway, blinking at her. “Wow, you look…”
“Not a complete and total disaster like usual?” she asked. She had put effort into her appearance today, great effort. She felt like she sort of owed him, for all the times he’d had to wipe strawberry sauce off her cheek and push the escaped hairs out of her eyes. She may not have much to offer, but she could look good, when she wanted. Today she wanted.
Dexter smiled. “I wasn’t going to say that. You look pretty, are pretty.” He came forward and stood beside her, watching both of them in the mirror.
She sighed, exasperated. “You’re supposed to put your arm around me.” As for her, she rested her head on his shoulder. They looked good together, in the mirror. As if they fit somehow, which must be a trick of the lighting and fancy clothes because of course they didn’t. They couldn’t be more opposite.
“I didn’t want to touch you and mess it all up,” Dexter said. Dutifully, he slid his arm around her waist and rested his head against hers.
“The only way to mess it up is to not touch me. Spoiler alert: I liked to be touched.”
“You’re kidding,” he intoned. “If only you had told me once or ten thousand times.”
“And yet I have to keep telling you,” she said, nudging him.
“I’ll try to do better,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.
She smiled. “You’re off to a good start.”
“You ready to do this thing, Future Fake Wife?”
“Yes, but after the ceremony are you going to start calling me Present Fake Wife?”
“I could really toss a ringer in there and start calling you Past Participle Future Ex Wife,” he said.
She giggled. “You’re diabolical. To answer your question, yes. I am ready. How are my men of honor? Are they ready?”
The Russians had divided themselves in half, two best men for Dexter, two men of honor for Lainey, despite the fact that neither had asked them to participate. But it seemed important to them and, as they were the ones who found the church and pastor last minute, Lainey and Dexter made no objection. Really, it was kind of nice not to have to stand up alone, even if the alternative was four glowering Russians.
“They were born for this moment,” Dexter said. “Also every moment before and after. They’re really live-in-the-moment kind of people.”
“At one point I thought that was my dream guy,” Lainey said, allowing him to clasp her hand and lead her out of the room.
“And now?” Dexter asked.
“Now I have no idea about anything,” Lainey said, but cheerfully. It was hard to be sad in a wedding dress, she realized. Even if she didn’t feel married (or about to be), she felt pretty. Maybe even beautiful. It was as if the dress gave her some kind of ethereal glow, the sort that otherwise would have been fueled by love. Maybe that explained why a bride could look so radiant on the day and walk away from her new husband a month later with no explanation. Because, as with the rings, being married had nothing to do with the rings or the dress or any of the other trappings of the day.
Then what is married ? Lainey’s inner voice asked. It was the same voice that remained mute when she needed to make a major life decision but sprang to life and decided to become a philosopher after the fact. Like now, when she was standing at the front of an unknown church, in front of an unknown pastor, the filling in an oversized Russian sandwich, about to marry her neighbor.
Shut up, we’re doing this, Lainey told the voice.
This is how you wind up in trouble, the voice tried.
Too late, Lainey told it.
And then she became aware of a new voice, a real one outside her head. A woman had slipped into the back of the church and was now loudly weeping. Lainey turned to survey her, along with everyone else. She was dressed head to toe in black, including a veil that did nothing to obscure her stunningly beautiful visage.
“Friend of yours?” Lainey whispered to Dexter.
He shook his head, his expression looking pained and longsuffering.
She leaned closer. “Tell me one thing: It’s not your mom, is it?” She could contend with a lot. Maternal disapproval wasn’t on the list.
Smiling now, he shook his head. “Ignore it. I’ll tell you later.” He squeezed her hand. Reassured, she squeezed back and faced forward, and that was it. Despite the copious and dramatic weeping that was somehow placed to pick up the acoustics and echo all through the church, despite the fact that this was likely the worst decision she’d ever made, despite everything Lainey married Dexter. And it seemed as if everything would be okay.
And then one of the brothers clapped his hands together and loudly boomed. “Is time for honeymoon,” and the woman at the back of the church gave way to a howl of rage before falling over gracefully in a dead faint.