30. Emily
30
EMILY
THE NEXT DAY
I wake to find Konstantin standing at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park in our hotel room. He’s already dressed, and his hands are folded behind his back, clutching his phone.
“How long have you been up?” I get up, fighting back the wave of morning sickness that seems to grow stronger with every passing day, wrap my arms around his middle, and press my face against his arm.
“A few hours at the very least,” he answers. “Sima called again this morning. He tells me that I need to see him. But I didn’t want to leave before you’re awake.”
My heart melts at his consideration. Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss his stubbled face gently. “You should go. Whatever it is Sima needs to talk to you about, I’m sure it’s important. Otherwise, he won’t be here.”
“What will you do?” He asks softly as his hands close around mine.
“I have things that I need to take care of on my end, too.” I tell him. “There’s the matron of honor speech, for starters. "
Konstantin smiles at the mention of my other duties. "I'm glad to have seen you and Nadia together again.”
“I’m glad too.”
“It reminded me that you have a life outside of the bratva,” he continues. “And that just because you’re married to me doesn’t mean that life has gone away. It’s so easy to forget that sometimes.”
“I understand why you might,” I reply. “Before me, the bratva was your life. It still is your life.”
“True,” he admits. “But now that I’m married to you, I need to make space for you as well.” He turns around, and suddenly we trade places at the window. His large hand wraps around my body, settling in front of my belly protectively.
“For both of you,” he says solemnly.
“I know,” I say as he pulls me closer. “There are things that you have to handle. And I’m coming to accept that just as you’re making room for me in your life, I have to make room for you in mine.” I look up and catch him gazing adoringly at me. “Because that’s what a relationship is about, right? We compromise when we can, we share what we must, so that we can support each other until the end of our lives.”
He smiles, dips his head, and brushes his lips against mine. The kiss starts out slow, soft, and gentle. But as passion sweeps into my heart, it deepens. There’s more than just lust driving us forward as our lips lock together.
There’s something else.
Something much deeper than that.
When we finally break apart, both of us are panting.
“How did I end up with someone as good as you?” he asks softly.
“I can ask you the same question,” I say .
Sunlight bathes the elegant room in warmth, and I step out from his embrace despitewanting to do the opposite.
“Go,” I tell him. “Your bratva needs you. I’ll be here when you come back.”
Once alone, I retrieve the beautiful dress Konstantin made for me from the bag and unfurl it. It shimmers in the bright light of the morning and somehow look even more magnificent than before. Pressing my face to the watery material, I sigh contently and hang it up to loosen any wrinkles that might’ve formed during our flight over.
Casting another glance at it, I make my way over to the desk, find the pen and notepad, and start writing down the basics of what I want my speech to be about.
But before I can get even the broad shape of the speech down, my phone rings.
I look down at the caller ID and feel my heart sinking.
It’s Mom.
It’s tempting to let the call go to voice mail.
This might be my last chance to talk to her. I fidget with the phone, glancing out the window at Central Park below, and finally put the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, keeping my voice as even as possible.
“Emily! I was worried you wouldn’t answer.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Well, because of what happened. You seemed upset.”
“I was upset,” I tell her. “In fact, I still am.”
“Which is why I’m calling, sweetie,” she says as she takes a deep breath to pause. “I want to apologize.”
She wants to apologize? This is new.
What about Dad ?
I wonder if he’s standing there with her in the background. I doubt it. Making my mother apologize for him is one thing, but if she’s doing that on his behalf, then she would’ve mentioned him too.
“You guys said some awful things last night,” I tell her, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I know, sweetie,” she sighs. “But we were just both so excited about him.”
“Were you really excited about him?” I ask. “Or were you just excited about how rich he was?”
“Is that so wrong?” she asks coarsely. “We just want to know that our daughter is being taken care of. It’s not a sin to have money or something. And you’re the one married to him, so it’s not like you don’t care.”
Somehow, even apologizing, Mom manages to say all the wrong things.
“I don’t care! ” I insist. “I didn’t marry him for his money!”
“Well, you certainly have no problem spending it,” she says snidely. “It’s easy to criticize us for wanting financial stability when you already have that luxury, Emily.”
My eyes snap to the lavender dress shimmering in the light and I frown as I realize where she’s taking this conversation.
“Are you really calling me right now just to finish getting me to release Olivia’s life insurance payout to you?” I ask bitterly. “After she was the one figured out this despicable scheme of yours?”
Her voice grows softer. “Maybe one day, after you have your baby, you’ll understand about how I felt …” She takes a slow breath. “About Olivia.”
My heart twinges at hearing her name on Mom’s lips after all of these years. And in that moment, it’s as if I’m a little kid again .
“Then why don’t you just tell me,” I say. “Tell me so that I might understand. Because for all of these years, I can never understand why you and Dad seem so intent on hating her.”
“Hating her?” Mom’s voice wavers. “Sweetie … Your Dad and I loved her. More than anything in the world.”
“You sure had a funny way of showing it.”
“Because she broke our hearts again and again,” Mom says. “I felt her taking shape inside of me for nine months. The first time I felt her kick, I knew I couldn’t wait to meet her.”
As she speaks, my own hand moves down towards my belly and I swear I can feel something moving there. I remain silent, letting Mom talk.
“And after she was born,” she says. “I held her little hands, changed one dirty diaper after another, spent one sleepless night after another. I was always worried for her, always wondering if I’m doing something wrong.
“I was there for her first steps, her first words, her first day of school.” She sniffs. “You have to remember, sweetie, she made us parents for the first time. And you have to know just how much my heart broke the first time I found out that she was …” Her voice thins and trembles. “That she was doing those awful things.”
“You could’ve helped her …” I can’t help myself anymore. “You could’ve talked to her.”
“She didn’t want to listen!” Mom’s tone hardens. “I tried, Emily, I tried to talk to her, but she just kept slamming that door in my face. How did you think I felt in that moment?”
I know she’s trying to garner my sympathy, but all I feel is my heart hardening at her words.
“I kept asking myself just where did I go wrong as a mother? How did I fail my baby?” she continues. “I thought that maybe if I just flushed all those terrible things she was putting in her body away, she would change for the better. But she didn’t. She kept on doing it, because that’s who she is. And eventually, my patience ran out.”
I close my eyes, and feel the sting of tears stabbing at my nose. I want to tell Mom to stop talking, but she won’t.
“She may have been a part of me once, but I had to cut her off for good,” she says. “Otherwise, she would’ve dragged me, and our whole family, down with her. And where would that leave you? Is that what you wanted, Emily? Did you want our family to be in ruins? Did you want to lose me too? Because of that junkie?”
Junkie. Junkie. Junkie.
That’s where it always ends.
“She only knew how to disappoint us, Emily. Not like you.”
I sniff, feeling the tears flowing freely on my face.
“Oh, sweetie,” Mom tuts. “I know you’re crying, and you don’t have to. Dad and I are so proud of you. Our little princess. Our future veterinarian.”
My eyes fly open.
This is it.
I can’t keep this final secret from her anymore.
“No, Mom,” I correct her. “There’s something I didn’t get a chance to tell you and Dad last night.”
“What is it?”
“I was expelled from vet school,” I say.
The words came out easier than I expected. Maybe it’s because I realize that I am no longer seeking their approval. Maybe it’s because I finally learned that I don’t need to meet all these conditions and requirements for someone to love me.
I don’t need to be useful in order to be valued .
“Expelled? How?” Mom’s voice takes on a hard familiar tone.
The same one she used on Olivia for all those years.
“If you ask the university, it’s because I was caught selling drugs, but?—”
“You what?!” She shrieks. “How could you do that to yourself, Emily? After everything you’ve seen with your own two eyes?”
“Let me finish,” I push on. “Please.”
“Okay.” Mom breathes.
“The truth is that those weren’t my drugs,” I tell her. “They belonged to Phil.”
“Phil?! Sweetie, why did you do that?”
“Because he asked me to.” Suddenly, the dam has broken, and the words comes rushing out. “He called me that day, asking me to do him a favor, as he has done time and time again. And like the people-pleasing idiot that I was, I did as he asked.”
“Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I stand up from the bed. “It’s what you and Dad taught me to do my whole life.”
“What do you mean? We never taught you to do something like that.”
“Mom,” I say. “Do you remember that day when Olivia was admitted to the hospital for her overdose? I watched as you and Dad called her selfish, useless, and all sorts of terrible things when she had just been yanked back from death’s door.”
I close my eyes, recalling the way Olivia hung her head, crying, in that hospital bed while Mom and Dad yelled at her. I remember how when I tried to reach out to take her hand in mine, Mom slapped it away. I remember how Dad kept asking Olivia if she had any idea just how much money it cost to save her life.
But nothing can top the final dagger, when Mom nodded furiously in agreement as Dad shouted it would’ve been better if Olivia had died instead.
“That day taught me that your love for your daughters came with a price.” I wipe furiously at my eyes as I speak. “You taught me that I had to make you happy—to make others happy—if I wanted your love. So, that’s what I did. My entire life, I sacrificed everything to make others happy. I prioritized them above myself. Because I never wanted to end up like Olivia, to cry while my parents yelled at me that it would’ve been better if I were dead.”
“Oh, Emily,” Mom interrupts me. “We didn’t mean to make you feel like that because of what that junkie did.”
Junkie. Junkie. Junkie.
“Stop it, Mom.” I hunch forward on the bed, elbows resting on my knees. “Stop talking about her like that.”
“Emily, you can defend Olivia all you want, but it won’t change who she was. That selfish j—” she quickly stops herself. “That selfish girl. Her life insurance was the only good thing she did for anyone."
My mouth dries out and I can’t speak. Even if I could, what can I say? That’s the root of this argument. They’ve already made up their mind about Olivia. They chose to believe that she was irredeemable. But she wasn’t.
They’d never accept her act of heroism to keep Alisa safe from Domenico.
I bet that if I tell them about it, they’d somehow say it was her fault in the first place.
There’s an urge to scream my head off. Years and years of defending Olivia swell up on my dagger-shaped tongue. I can cut her apart, here and now. I can say things that would end my relationship with my parents for good. And they would deserve it too.
I put my hand to my stomach, imagining my growing baby—the life that Konstantin and I created together. I think about the endless nights when he held me in his arms, the way he rushed towards me in Domenico’s basement, the way his eyes flashed with anger at the thought that someone else dared to hurt me.
But most importantly, the way he took my hand to keep me anchored when we sat across from my parents while they greedily counted every dollar he’s worth.
The way he holds me each morning as the sun rises.
The way he calls me Kitty Cat with that deep rumbling voice of his.
The easy way he laughs with me at the smallest things.
The absolute refusal to think that I’m anything less than perfect in his eyes.
The love he has for me is the highest form of love.
Unconditional. Unlimited.
“Emily,” Mom says in my ear, bringing me back. “Are you there?”
I take a calming breath and let it out. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“You went quiet for a while.”
“Because I’m still coming to terms with accepting the truth that the only reason you reached out to me wasn’t because my sister is dead,” I say. “But because you can finally cash in on her death.”
“Emily—"
“You knew Olivia for only a part of your life,” I keep going, refusing to let her get another word in. “But I knew her for all of mine. I couldn’t imagine a world without her, whereas you couldn’t wait to live in a world where she no longer exists. ”
“You’re right, sweetie.” Mom sighs on the other end. “We should’ve been better parents. And maybe this is a chance for us to start fresh. To move forward from the past. From that jun—from Oliva.”
“No, Mom.” I switch my phone to my other ear, touching the window glass in the process. I watch how my fingers press into the ghostly reflection of my own hand. “There’s no starting fresh. Not after this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emily. Don’t you want us to help out as grandparents?”
A bark of a laughter tumbles from the depth of my throats. “If you think Konstantin or I will let you within a thousand miles of our baby?—”
“You can’t do that to us, Emily!”
A smile curls up on my lips as I glance at the dress Konstantin gave me and at the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky.
I’m a pakhan’s wife, I think. There’s nothing that I can’t do.
When I speak, I can feel Konstantin’s power flowing in my voice as if he’s standing right here beside me.
“Yes, I can,” I tell her. “Konstantin will have his lawyers draw up a restraining order against both of you the moment we go home.”
“Emily Sullivan! How dare you!”
“Not Emily Sullivan,” I correct her. “Emily Siderov.”
“Please …” she begs as the reality of what I just told her starts settling in. “Please don’t do this to us. Don’t make us lose both our daughters.”
I close my eyes, and the words rush to my lips from the bottom of my soul. “I’m not doing anything to the two of you that you haven’t already done to me and my sister.”
When I open my eyes, the world seems brighter and the air lighter than before. My fingers scrub slowly down the window, leaving pale streaks as they go.
“Tell Dad I said goodbye, Mom.”
And with that, I end the call, and the phone falls from my fingertips.
My parents taught me a lie—that love is conditional, and something that can be withheld.
It took Konstantin for me to realize that the truth is the exact opposite.