Chapter 3
LILIANA
Jenni didn’t hesitate to let me crash at her apartment.
She let me in and listened to me rant, whine, lecture, and gripe about the shock of catching my boyfriend cheating on me with my best friend.
She’d never had a high opinion of Roman to begin with, always saying he was too cocky and seemed to think the world revolved around him.
Good riddance is her mantra for this post-breakup phase I’m going through.
And she’s a solid believer in getting what’s coming to you where he’s concerned.
Over the last week, she came with me to grab more of my things from the apartment, often serving as backup to shout at Roman that this is what he gets for screwing around, with Maeve or anyone else.
“I’m only going to grab the last of the things I left behind,” I tell her as I speed out of the city. Leaving the gray icy sludge that lines the curbs for the open country roads is a healthy change of scenery. And if the view doesn’t soothe me, the time to drive alone might.
“Okay. Just be careful on the drive,” she says via speaker. “It’s supposed to snow.”
“I know. I’m just going out there and back,” I tell her before we disconnect the call.
My goal is to stop at the Sokolov vacation home to grab the notebook I forgot to take when Roman and I stayed for that short getaway.
In hindsight, knowing he’d already been taking Maeve to family outings, I’m more convinced than ever that he avoided introducing me to anyone in his family and stashed me way out here to keep me from pushing the matter.
While it was nice to get away and stay in the massive mansion a couple of hours from the city, it’s so obvious that Roman was hiding me. Never fully letting me matter in his life or acting like I could belong in it.
Good.
I smirk to myself.
Makes it easier to cut all ties now.
That’s what I’m after, severing the last tie to him. Collecting this notebook and the couple items of clothing I left from that short stay means grabbing the last things he could hold over me or use as a bribe to get me talking to him again. He’s been trying already.
Yesterday, he left me a voicemail saying that he wouldn’t give me the last of my mail unless I came to my senses and talked to him. “Because you have no right to walk out on me.”
That’s the sticking point with him. The audacity that someone would reject him. That I could dare to end things with him and not let him dictate how our lives should be.
The mail he’s trying to use as leverage is just junk, thank God, because everything that matters is paperless and digital now.
Still, it got me thinking about what else he could hold over my head and be an ass about.
The clothes at this upstate mansion could be replaced, but the notebook with the planning details I’ve started putting together for the bakery is too important to lose or reproduce.
Not even five minutes after I end the call with Jenni, the snow falls thicker.
I speed up the wiper blades and sigh, hating that I have to do the drastic thing of heading all the way out here for that notebook because I can’t count on Roman to be decent.
“Decent?” I mutter to myself with a harsh laugh.
He’s lost the definition of decency. He’s been an asshole, taunting me and blowing up my phone with nasty texts to remind me I’m too fat and simple to land anyone else, with voicemails threatening that I’ll regret treating him like this, and even emails listing how he’s somehow the victim here and no one can fault him for deciding to open up the relationship and sleep with Maeve.
Thinking about it again, dwelling on all the high emotions I’ve been riding since I walked in on him with Maeve a week ago, I know I’m letting it—and him—get to me.
My blood pressure spikes, my pulse hammers, and my knuckles go white on the wheel before I even realize I’m gripping it.
That’s all it takes. One thought of Roman rattling around in my head and I’m fuming, jacked on adrenaline, ready to fight him out of my own mind.
“No one’s ever going to love you.”
“You’re worthless. An embarrassment.”
“You should be lucky I ever gave you a second of my time, you frigid bitch.”
I press my lips together as the litany of his hateful words replay in a loop in my mind.
Growling at the tension he can still invoke in me, I reach out to turn on the radio. Anything to drown out the replays of his words in my head.
My phone rings, and I mute the radio before answering, since it’s Jenni.
“Hey, just a thought,” she says.
“What?” We’ve been talking so much while I’ve been crashing at her place. About Roman. About the bakery. She’s one of our most loyal employees as well as my friend and she’s been trying to help me figure out a way to save the business.
“You didn’t tell Roman that you’re going to pick up your things, did you?” she asks.
“No. Hell no.” I shake my head. He’s been blowing up my phone, but it’s all passive. I haven’t answered or replied to anything so far. “I haven’t talked to him all week.”
“Okay. Good. Because I got worried for a second. Like, what if he’s waiting for you at that house and decides to be an asshole and, well. You know.”
“I know,” I reply. “Roman doesn’t even know that I left anything at the house. The staff will let me in to get my shit. Seriously, I’m just going there and coming right back. Then we can go over those notes about the delivery service idea I have.”
“Good. I’m sure this is just what we need to get ahead again,” she says. “Careful driving!”
We end the call and I sigh as I squint to see through the window better. I like walking and using public transportation in the city, but driving out of it is nice too.
When I can see.
And when the roads aren’t this slick…
As I focus on the drive, a faint doubt creeps in that this might not be a good idea after all. Not going to get my things, but going now, as the sky darkens and the storm closes in.
Being alone and having the autopilot freedom to think and just be is good for me though. Because as I speed by, I am confident this is it. This is the last time I’ll ever have anything to do with a Sokolov again. It’s the clean cut that I need.
The snow falls faster, though, and when my phone rings again, I debate not answering because I need to concentrate on the curvy highway.
Seeing that it’s my dad, I’m obligated to pick up.
He and Mom aren’t doing perfectly health-wise, and it breaks my heart that they still put in so many hours at the bakery.
They had me later in life, so they’re not the spring chickens they used to be.
They’re at the age where they should be planning a retirement.
Not keeping a failing business alive.
I answer him, though, so he’s not worried about me making this drive either.
“Hi, Lili,” he replies to my greeting, using the shortened name he always gives me. “Are you back yet?”
“No. I left later than I wanted to. Jenni and I were trying to repair that mixer for longer than we figured, and I got on the road late.”
“Maybe you should reconsider,” he advises, wise but worried, like always.
He’s never been a risk taker, and his caution is partly why he’s in the bind he is now with the bakery.
Never taking the step to put some capital in something that might pay off later.
To make money, we have to spend money. Convincing him to believe that is a crusade I’ll never fully win.
“I just want those notes,” I remind him on the speaker call. “I spent too much time on them to dismiss it all. And we need those numbers I figured out to project what we can work with.”
“I don’t know, Lili.” His tone tells me he’s rubbing the back of his neck, agitated and unsure. “This delivery idea sounds good on paper, but making it work? I just don’t know.”
I bite my lip, peeved. That’s just it. Everything looks better on paper to him. None of us ever know how anything will turn out, but we have to take chances where we can.
“We can talk about the delivery options when I’m back,” I tell him, already distracted and skidding around a curve.
I’m stressed, and it’s plain common sense not to talk business right now.
I need to be careful this close to the house.
Ornamental gates and fancy landscaping will make this drive a challenge.
“Okay,” he says. “But I’m just not sure this idea is something we can really rely on for much money, you know?”
“No, I don’t know, Dad. Neither do you. That’s why it’s an idea right now.”
After another minute, my dad lets me go, reminding me to be careful, but I’m too stressed to pay much attention anymore. Skidding and slipping on the long icy drive that hasn’t been cleared of snow yet, I grit my teeth.
As I struggle to steer the car, his words continue to clog my thoughts, hinting that he might not be able to rely on me.
Since I graduated from a culinary program out of state a couple of years ago and came home to work at the bakery, I’ve tried to be the best daughter and employee for them. I wanted to do my best for them at the same time I’d attempted to appease Roman.
And for what?
My parents can rely on me. And they should be able to trust my ideas.
“Because they’re not worthless. I’m not worthless.” I hold my breath as the tires spin around another curve in this ridiculously long driveway.
“I don’t need anyone to validate my worth,” I growl, stepping on the gas some more to get through this curve.
“I am a strong woman, dammit. And this can be a new year with new beginnings and growth.” I furrow my brow, turning too sharply to get back up on what I think is the driveway.
Instead, I spin out and smack head-first into a parked SUV that the snow shielded from my view until I was right on it.
“Fuck!” I lurch forward and then slam back against the headrest. Curling my fingers around the steering wheel, I tense up and stare ahead at one of the dark SUVs that the Sokolov men drive.
I just hit one of their cars. In the middle of a snowstorm, far from civilization.
So much for a clean cut.
Wincing as I lift my head, I dread that he might be here after all.