27. Emily
27
EMILY
“I still don’t know what I’m going to wear,” I fret outside the bathroom of our hotel room.
Konstantin props his hand on the sink as he watches me. “I don’t think you need to worry that much.”
I give him a quick smile. “I’m just worried about the impression I gave my parents. I don’t need them misinterpreting anymore of our situation.”
“I don’t care about how they view us.”
“Really?” I crinkle my nose. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me. Not because of how they look at us, but because of the way they made you feel.” He pushes off the sink and approaches me. I think he’s going to kiss me, but he keeps going, heading into our bedroom. “Whatever you wear, it won’t matter.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“I’m positive,” he replies. “I’m here for you, Kitty Cat. And I’ll be right there with you.”
I nod as I return to staring at my face in the mirror. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve been dreading this moment for weeks. And now that it’s finally here, it hardly even feels real. ”
“It’s real,” he says. “But you won’t need to face them alone. You won’t need to face anything alone.”
“I know.” I smile at his reflection. “Thank you.”
“If you want,” he says after a moment. “I can arrange for a restraining order drawn up against your parents. Make it clear that they will never contact you again.”
My heart skips a beat. A restraining order …
That’s something I haven’t ever considered. The gravity in Konstantin’s voice tells me that he’s dead serious about this. But I can’t ask him of this right now.
Not until I sit down with them.
Not until I get closure.
“I appreciate you thinking of that,” I say. “And that’s something I do want. But I have to do this. Please. I’m asking you for just a tiny bit more patience.”
“All right,” he sighs. “I’ll do as you ask, Kitty Cat.” Scooping my face into his hands, he kisses each cheek, and then, after a second, he kisses my lips as well.
I lean into him, enjoying how soft his lips are.
He ends the kiss, watching me with his blue eyes. “I’ll beright outside.”
It doesn’t take me long to get ready, because I leave my hair down and opt for minimal makeup. The latter is a subconscious choice—my mother always chided me for wearing it when I was a teen, probably because Olivia was super into elaborate eyeshadow.
“I’m ready.” I tell him when I step out of the bathroom.
“Let’s make this quick,” he says. “I don’t want you to be there for a second longer than you have to.”
The restaurant, Clover Tavern, is located in the Upper West Side—my parents went out of their way to choose a luxurious neighborhood. Workers sweep the sidewalk and collect any trash that appears in front of its doors, making sure the area around the restaurant is spotless.
Konstantin has opted to drive us himself, and he barely finished pulling in front when a valet bolts over to open my door to help me out.
Together, hand in hand, we enter Clover Tavern. The scent of cardamom floats into my nose. Next comes the disorienting murmur of multiple diners talking, waiters taking orders, and cooks in the background shouting.
Calm down, calm down, I tell myself. But I just can’t. I have no idea what to expect, but from the way Mom and Dad ogled Konstantin the moment they realized how wealthy he is …
“Emily! Over here!” Mom shouts, waving her arm like a flag as she spots us across the room. She’s in a curved booth with my father, her tan dress blending into the leather. Only her pale, freckled skin—so much like mine—makes her stand out. Her dark hair is piled on her head in an elaborate swirl that I’d never seen before.
Dad has managed to shove himself into a suit that threatens to pop out every button. He rises when we get close, reaching to shake Konstantin’s hand.
“Good to see you again, Konstantin.” He grins. “Glad you could join us tonight.”
Konstantin grips my dad’s hand. My mother goes in for a hug. Either he doesn’t react fast enough or he doesn’t mind her overtly friendly hug.
“My goodness!” She looks him up and down after she releases him, studying him like he’s a slab of prize beef. “ Where are you from? I don’t think you told us when we met earlier.”
“Croatia.” He keeps his smile polite, but his eyes remain as icy as ever.
“My goodness! An international man,” she gushes. She gives me a quick look, opening her mouth in a silent scream of glee.
The two of them can’t be more obvious at how excited they are at his wealth. I look over, and the ugly brown folder that Dad had with him earlier is on the table.
You couldn’t even wait, could you? I shoot daggers from my eyes at them both, but they’re so taken by Konstantin, and the easy way that wealth just exudes from his every pore, that they don’t even look at me.
My hands ball into fists and I force myself into the booth, sitting down like the leather might bite me.
“Did you wait long?” I ask.
“Well—” Mom starts.
“No.” Dad cuts her off. “Not at all. We knew you’d always be on time, princess.”
I cringe at the nickname that they’ve never used on me until just now. Konstantin mouths Princess? at me. Ignoring him, I reach for the glass of water the waiter just filled.
“So,” Mom says, linking her hands under her chin. “When did the wedding happen?”
“About a month ago, I guess,” I say softly.
“Why didn’t you invite us?” Dad asks. He can’t keep the sternness from his tone.
He manages to actually sound disappointed, and I shrink from the shame that instinctively wakes up in me from his tone.
“It was spontaneous,” I explain, nervously playing with my glass and accidentally spilling water all over the table .
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Mom says. She turns to Konstantin, talking like I’m not there. “Emily has always been a planner, ever since she was little. Always planning her life bit by bit, one goal after another to achieve. Our pride and joy.”
“What happened to Phil?” Dad asks.
“I …” I look down, unsure of how I can answer this question. Do I finally tell them about my expulsion? Or do I just tell them that Phil and I broke up and leave it at that?
Something tells me that they’re so taken by Konstantin that they won’t care even if I told them the truth.
Just then, Konstantin’s hand slips into mine under the table, pouring warmth and courage from him into me.
“We broke up,” I finally say.
“Well, that’s obvious,” Mom says. “But why? I mean, last time we spoke, you were talking about moving in together after you graduate. What changed?”
What changed? Oh, how about the fact that he was caught selling drugs and asked me to take the blame? And then I got expelled! Isn’t that funny? Ha! Ha!
But instead, I just say. “I realize that he wasn’t the one for me.”
“Well, as long as you’re happy.” Mom sighs. “Shame. Phil was such a good kid. He came from a great family, good money, and he definitely cared about you, sweetie.”
“He didn’t give a shit about her!” Konstantin speaks up before I can.
Mom and Dad recoil from the edge in his voice. I turn and give him a look of warning, and barely manage to catch his gaze.
“Sweetie?” Mom looks at me. “Is that true?”
My hand squeezes tightly around Konstantin’s under the table, and I nod .
“Oh, Emily.” Mom sighs dramatically. “Well, what’s past is the past. I’m just glad that you moved on and found someone that cares about you more than Phil did, sweetie.”
“Never liked that kid,” Dad grunts. “Always yammering on and on about his father this, his father that.”
I glare at him. I’m pretty sure I remember Dad was the one always asking Phil about his father and the copious amount of money his father donated to the university.
“So,” Mom gives us all a nervous look. “Can we expect to be grandparents soon?”
I feel heat rushing up my cheeks, and I look over at Konstantin. He has a questioning look in his eyes, and I realize he’s waiting for me to give him permission. I dip my head slightly.
“Next spring,” he says.
“So soon!” Mom gasps. “Oh my goodness. Well, this certainly is something that we must celebrate!”
She raises her hand and snaps her fingers. I cringe when the waiter doesn’t respond fast enough and she does it again.
“How can I help you fine folks tonight?” The waiter says when he arrives. He keeps a polite mask on his face, but I can see the annoyance creeping into the corners of his eyes.
“Yes, we will have three glasses of champagne, and something bubbly but non-alcoholic in a champagne glass for the young lady.” Mom says.
“Do you have a specific champagne in mind, miss?”
Mom blinks and her confidence withers a little. It’s obvious that she hadn’t thought this far. “Oh … Well, I?—”
“A bottle of Dom Perignon,” Konstantin says politely to the waiter. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure, sweetie?” Mom asks him. “That sounds like an awful lot of champagne. ”
“Nonsense,” he replies. “It’s the best value for the price.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter nods and walks away.
“A man who is both wealthy and knows the value of a good deal,” Dad says approvingly. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
“Anyways, tell us more about you, sweetie.” Mom bends toward Konstantin. Her elbow bumps the centerpiece candle, and makes the flame waver. “Is that an Armani suit? What do you do for a living?”
Konstantin gives my mom a well-practiced smile. “I’m a businessman.”
“In what business?”
Konstantin doesn’t answer.
“Okay, I get it.” Dad chortles. “You have your secrets. We all do.”
“Exactly, it’s fine,” Mom drawls. “It doesn’t matter what your job is as long as it pays well. Right, Emily?”
I don’t answer.
Konstantin rests his hand on my knee under the table, giving me a light, comforting caress to calm me.
The waiter returns with four flutes, a bottle of Dom Perignon, and a small bottle of sparkling water. With practiced motion, he pops the cork and pours into everyone else’s flutes, before he pours the sparkling water in mine.
Once he’s finished, he says. “I can take your orders now, if you’re ready.”
Mom squints at her menu like she’s going blind. “What should I order?” she asks. “The salmon looks divine!”
I open mine as well, staring at the words but not reading them. I can’t focus at all.
Dad reaches over, and snaps her menu shut. “You’ll have the sirloin, like me. ”
Her smile falters. She tries to open her menu again, even with his hand on it. “Oh, but I was thinking …”
Clearing his throat, he looks at the waiter. “I’ll take the sirloin, well done. My wife will have the same, but make sure hers is cooked medium. That’s how she likes it.”
Mom is fidgeting now. Picking up the glass of water next to her flute of champagne, she takes big gulps, like it’s the most delicious thing that’s ever touched her lips.
Konstantin has stopped touching my knee. He brings his hands on top of the table, resting them there. “If she wants to order something different, let her.”
“She wants the sirloin,” Dad says, squinting hard at Konstantin.
“It sounds like she prefers the salmon,” Konstantin says.
The waiter politely backs off with a whisper of, “I can come back in a minute if you need more time.”
“No, no!” Mom flaps her hands with a crackling little giggle. “It’s fine! The sirloin will be delicious! Thank you.”
“And you, miss?” The waiter turns to me.
“I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Me neither,” Konstantin says.
The waiter blinks, sensing the chaos. But when he realizes that neither Konstantin and I will order anything, he says. “I’ll be back with your orders shortly.”
Mom and Dad grab their champagne flutes. And despite both of us feeling like we’d rather be anywhere but here, Konstantin and I mirror their motion.
“To both of you.” Dad says.
Konstantin and I take a small sip while Mom and Dad finish theirs in a single gulp.
“Do you have names picked out?” Mom asks as soon as she places the flute back on the table.
“As a matter of fact,” Konstantin answers. “We do. ”
“Ooh, how exciting!” Mom claps her hands together and then refills her and Dad’s flute. “Well, tell us! What is it?”
Konstantin looks at me and gives my hand another gentle squeeze. I feel my heartbeat quickening. But in my core, I don’t feel nervous anymore. Not with his hand wrapped around mine. He’s like an anchor, keeping me rooted even as a storm of emotions lash at me from all sides.
Slowly, I take a deep breath, to calm myself a little more.
“If it’s a girl,” I finally say. “I want to name her Olivia.”
The sounds of the other patrons in the restaurant fades away into a dim murmur, and the mood at the table immediately deflates. Mom’s jaw drops open and Dad looks like he just swallowed something unpleasant.
“Why would you name your baby after that junkie?” Mom asks nastily, her flute halfway to her lips.
“Isn’t she the reason why we’re all here?” I stare down at the brown folder and then back at them. “And can we stop pretending that this is about anything other than the money?”
“Can’t we wait until dinner is over, sweetie?”
“No,” I insist. “We can’t.”
Strength flows into my voice, and I feel as if I’m back at the castle, staring down Alla as she looks at me with her haughty gaze.
“I don’t want this money,” I tell them. “If you want me to sign it over to you, I will. But I will not have you call my sister a junkie in front of me ever again.”
“What does it matter what we call her?” she replies. “Will calling her by her name bring her back? She belongs to the past now, Emily. The sooner you accept that and move on, the better.”
“Exactly,” Dad joins in. “Your mother and I moved on a long time ago. You should too. ”
“Unbelievable …” I shake my head. “You really don’t even care that she’s dead?”
“Of course we care!” Mom slams her flute to the table, spilling drops of champagne on the white tablecloth.
A few people turn their heads towards us, and Konstantin glances around uneasily. We’re starting to attract attention, and attention is the last thing he wants.
“Of course we care,” she brings her voice down. “But again, what can we do about it?”
“You can start by saying her name.” I’m so angry that I’m shaking. “You can start by at least pretending that you might have once loved her. If you want this money, then say her name.”
“Fine!” Mom drains her champagne again and quickly refills it. “Olivia. Are you happy now, Emily?”
“No.” I shake my head. “If anything, I’m sadder than ever. Because you clearly love this money more than the daughter who died for it.”
“Oh please.” Mom scoffs. “As if we didn’t all see this coming. This was always how she was going to end up.”
“Exactly.” Dad nods. “That’s why we took out the life insurance on her in the first place.”
My jaw drops open and my head spins.
What?
I try to breathe, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, the air is trapped at my throat.
They took out a life insurance policy on her?
“Then …” I finally manage, my voice straining through my vocal cords. “Then why did you ask if I knew anything about her life insurance policy?”
“We thought it was odd that it didn’t immediately pay out.” Dad shrugs. “And after a week, we figured that if there’s someone who could figure it out, it was you. That’s why we called.”
“So,” I start. “All this time …”
They knew! They always knew about the money!
“We took out that policy on her the moment she walked out that door,” Mom says, her cheeks flushing with champagne. “That junkie took so much from us, it’s only natural that she pays us back for all the years?—"
“That’s enough!”
It’s not me who interrupts her.
It’s Konstantin.
He puts his hands on the table, not hitting it, just setting it there. His quiet anger is more terrifying than if he’d flipped the entire booth over.
“She was your daughter.” He rakes his eyes across their faces. Judging them. “Your flesh and blood.”
“Now look here!” Dad raises a finger.
But Konstantin isn’t intimidated. One deadly glare, and Dad quiets down.
“I know what kind of people you are.” Konstantin’s voice is even and steady, but I can feel the anger rolling off him with every word. “You were blessed with two amazing daughters who could move heaven and earth with their willpower, and you never once cared about either of them. The only thing you ever cared about was what they could do for you . In the very short time that I’ve spent in your presence, you have not once acknowledged just how deeply Olivia’s death has hurt Emily.”
My parents have been stunned into silence. Konstantin glowers at them and continues. “You stare at me and my money and that’s all you see. You look at Emily and see the success you wish both of you had. You choose to forget the memory of your oldest daughter even as you rub your hands gleefully at the prospect of cashing in on her death like the pair of hungry vultures that you are.”
He takes my hand, holding it protectively.
“Konstantin,” I utter softly.
His frown is contorted by disgust, his anger is aimed squarely at my parents.
“It shocks me to my core that someone as wonderful and special as her could come from a pair of greedy, bloodsucking creatures like you,” he says and then turns to me, his voice grave. “I’ve tolerated your insulting presence for long enough. It’s time to leave.” He casts a baleful look in my parents’ direction. “They can pick up the bill.”