Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Lauren
Another day, another book club meeting.
Of course, this was the first since my life had imploded: Thad had done me dirty, my agency was in tatters, and my secret husband was a secret no more.
On the other hand, I had signed Arkady Volkov and lost myself in this month’s romance, an amazing queer historical paranormal that had kept my mind occupied while my world went up in flames.
We were meeting at Franky and Jason’s place again, so after the passing around of Baby Cam Doe (my Pitt-inspired nickname), admiration for Summer’s gorgeous Parisian fashions, and the distribution of cocktails, I was anxious to get into the weeds of the book.
“So, magpie tattoos and sexy times—what did we think?”
Rosie laughed, a touch maniacally. “Slow your roll, Yatesy. You think we’re not going to talk about the fact you’ve been married to Alexei Nazarov for months and we had to hear about it from the tabloids?”
“There’s not much to say. We ran into each other in Vegas, and one thing led to another …” I trailed off, assuming they’d fill in the gaps.
“But you had a boyfriend,” Adeline said. “I know he turned out to be a terrible boyfriend, but what was all that about?”
What could I say? My husband knew but decided to keep the salient details to himself? It was just so complicated. Better to stick to the original bones of the lie.
“We were so drunk we didn’t even realize it had happened. Just before Alexei moved to Chicago, he found the marriage certificate and here we are.”
Summer smiled at me. “But I thought he was my boyfriend. We were having such a good time in the Renegades locker room.”
Franky took off her glasses to clean them. “‘Were’ being the operative word here. Autumn Deveraux and Sexy Rexy are no more.”
Summer looked shocked. “But when?”
Adeline laughed. “While you were in Par-ee with your real boyfriend, your fake one went back to his first love, the summer exchange student who broke his heart in Vladivostok.”
All eyes turned toward me. I shrugged. “So the author reads Hot Goss like everyone else.”
“This new development occurred before the Vegas husband news came out.” Franky rubbed Cammi’s back. “Someone is either very good at guessing or is closer to the action than we might have previously thought.”
“You’re saying the fan fiction author might be someone we know?”
Franky raised an expressive eyebrow. “Just a hypothesis of mine. Conor agrees and is running an investigation.”
Rosie snorted. “God save us from hockey players turned podcasters thinking they can now solve mysteries.”
I pointed at Rosie. “What’s with you and Conor Kershaw, anyway?”
“Oh, trying to deflect, are we?”
Yes, but so was she!
“There’s nothing more to say. We’re practically divorced anyway—we just need to file the paperwork.”
“Oh!” Adeline said. “I thought you two were cute together at the paint-in. I hope you’re not letting the Thad stuff muddle everything.”
Was I? Maybe. But it was hard to get a bead on exactly how my mind tracked these days.
My phone buzzed. Normally I would have it on do not disturb, but I needed to be on call for the few clients that remained on my roster. It was Galen Frisk.
“Sorry, guys, got to take this. Carry on gossiping behind my back.”
I headed out to the foyer. Galen had stuck with me even though his hundred grand signing bonus was likely in the wind. I was expecting him to bail—and then sue—at any moment.
“Hey, Frisco, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, Lauren, it’s all good. You’ll never believe what happened.” He paused for a dramatic effect worthy of his influencer girlfriend. “I just got my money back!”
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he opened the door with his shirt off. I was that mad I might have raced upstairs to get another sweater.
But the man who greeted me was disappointingly dressed, probably because I had already texted to say I’d like to stop by, assuming that was convenient and wouldn’t upset the Nazarovs’ evening routine.
“Lauren,” he said, his tone one of such longing I almost melted on the spot.
Then I remembered why I was here. “Is Sasha in bed?”
“Yes, he went up about an hour ago.”
“Can you step outside so I can yell at you?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How about you step inside so you cannot?”
“Alexei, what the hell? You can’t pay off Thad’s debts!”
“I have the money, and if this helps you earn back the trust of your clients, then this is the way to do it. You know they would never see that money again, otherwise.”
I had been thinking up ways to pay back the people Thad had defrauded, though at the last count we were looking at close to a million dollars, and that was just the people I knew personally.
I could front some of it, but I could never cover the entire debt.
Gunnar had said I shouldn’t have to—once Thad was apprehended, he would be forced to make restitution.
But that could take years, if it happened at all, and there would likely be nothing left to repay while he spent it all, funding his life on the lam.
In the meantime, my reputation was in tatters and my business was destroyed.
But to have Alexei help me with this? It was generous but also typically high-handed. My husband in a nutshell.
He stepped outside and gestured to the bench on his porch. I took a seat and he sat beside me, about a foot of useless space between us.
“I thought about making it a condition of the divorce settlement, but then I imagined you wouldn’t want any more delays.”
“No, I-I wouldn’t. I appreciate you getting those papers back to me.” We were no longer married—or at least we wouldn’t be as soon as my lawyer filed the paperwork. I moved a little closer. “Jason told me that your dad took a turn for the worse.”
He gusted out a weary sigh. “I had hoped it might be a phase. That he would look at me or hear me speak Russian, and it would come back to him. But he keeps asking for my mother and then telling Maya that his son plays hockey. The same son who is lazy but good when he applies himself.” His wry smirk faded on the wobble of his lips.
He swiped at a tear. “The man I know is fading away, Lauren.”
“Oh, Alexei, I’m so sorry.” I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. No matter our problems, I still cared for him so much. Seeing him in such pain killed me.
He drew back, sniffed, and put the heel of his palm to his eye. “I had plans to hire a Russian nurse. Two Russian nurses who would have to live in while I’m on the road. I’ve even thought about taking a break from hockey, but at my age, that’s pretty much the same as retirement.”
“Yeah, you’re so old.”
He snorted. “Still busting my balls, zhena.”
Wife. I’d allow it.
“Think about what’s best for your dad and yourself. He might not want to be put in a home, but neither would he want you putting your career on hold.”
“He doesn’t even know who I am, never mind the career I have.”
Oh, my love. I understood grief, but grieving for someone who died a little every day had to be so hard.
“I read somewhere that the memories might vanish, but the feelings don’t. He might not remember you, but he’ll remember how he felt around you.”
“Even if he thinks I’m a stranger?”
“Even then.”
He paused, then I saw the moment he came to a decision. “He wrote me a letter.”
I blinked in surprise. “When?”
“Last year, when he was officially diagnosed. He asked his lawyer to send it to me before the next season started.” He pulled an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. “Would you like to read it?”
“If you’re okay with that, and assuming it’s in English.”
He smiled. “It is.”
I removed the single page and unfolded it.
Dear Aloysha,
You may be wondering why I am writing to you instead of talking to you.
We have just left the doctor’s office, and the news is not good.
I thought this would be a way to tell you more easily how I feel, especially as there will come a time when I can no longer find the right words. Or any words at all.
You gave up so much to save me from the people who would harm me.
You put your life on hold and missed out on building the life you wanted.
At some point, I may ask you not to send me away.
It will be the fear talking, not the supposedly brave man who stood up to the government that wanted to kill him.
I also know that the burden of caring for me may become too much.
If there comes a time when it is better for me, and for you, to place me in the care of others, please do it.
It may feel like a betrayal. Believe me, Aloysha, it is not.
The true betrayal is for you to allow me to become a weight on your life.
I know you have the resources to care for me at home.
I know you have the love in your heart. But please think of the cost to yourself and the life you have not lived to its fullest. There are many kinds of love, and the love of a father for his son and vice versa is just one of them.
You still have a great love ahead of you—a family to build, a woman to cherish, your favorite hockey player to win.
Do not let me stand in the way as I did before.
I may look at you as if you are a stranger.
I may call you different names or no name at all.
I may remember you as a boy or forget that you ever existed.
Accept my apologies in advance for hurting you and know that while it might seem like I have forgotten, it is not true.
Inside this shell, I am here with my beautiful memories trapped in amber.
Memories of you, of your mother, of a life well lived.
I am, and will always be, so proud of you.
All my love,
Papa
While I read, he sat back and looked up at the sky. It was long past sunset, and the night was closing in, with candy-striped colors being superseded by midnight blues and grays.
I settled beside him, my head on his shoulder, the tears streaming down my cheeks at witnessing this evidence of the great love between a father and son.
We might no longer be husband and wife, but tonight, our hearts beat as one.
I would always love the boy who had captured my heart and the man who had crushed my soul.
“I’m glad you are here, Silver Eyes.”
“I’m glad I am, too.”