Jennilynn’s memorial service had been held in the same funeral home. People had also brought food, gathering in the Sterns’ house because Alicia’s mother had been laid so low with grief that she’d been incapable of hosting anyone in their house, and Babulya had insisted on doing it for her.
Jennilynn should’ve been here to weep and laugh with them over all the stories they’d gathered to share about Babulya. She would have hunted for extra garbage bags and accepted all the condolence hugs, but in Jenni’s aching, endless absence, that duty had fallen to Alicia, and in that she had also stumbled and faltered, forever incapable of taking her sister’s place.
Now back in her own house, Alicia filled her freezer with food she knew she was never going to eat. She sat down at her kitchen table. She poured herself a glass of iced tea. She checked items off a list one at a time. She moved with stiff joints—robotic—and focused on putting her efforts into action, not emotions, until finally she had no more things to distract her, and she gave herself permission to weep.
No tears came.
Instead, a deep and unsettling exhaustion settled into her with liquid and relentless ease. Filling her up from the inside, it weighted her bones. It scourged her.
Babulya had reached the end of a long and fruitful life; Jennilynn had never been given the chance. Her death colored nearly every decision Alicia had made after it happened. It had led her down the path to becoming Ilya’s wife, for better or for worse, and though she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything, in moments like this when she looked around at what her life had become, she couldn’t remember what she’d once dreamed of having.
The knock on her back door startled her, but the sight of who’d done the knocking surprised her even more. A tendril of embarrassment at being caught in such a melancholy moment twisted inside her. It might’ve been anyone, but of course it was him.
“Hey, sorry to bother you. I brought . . .” Nikolai lifted the casserole in his hands as though in apology. “We didn’t have room for this, either. Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. C’mon in.” She stood aside, too aware of his warmth as he pushed past her. “You can see if there’s any room in the freezer.”
Nikolai fit the casserole into the freezer and closed it. Turned to her. They stared at each other.
What might she have done with herself had her sister not died?
What might any of them have done?
“I had to get out of there,” she said quietly.
Nikolai scrubbed a hand over the top of his head and gave her a sideways glance. “Yeah. Me, too. I probably could’ve managed to find a place for that casserole over there somewhere. I really just wanted to get out of the house. I wanted to come over here.”
“It’s quieter here.”
“You’re here,” he said abruptly, then stopped.
Slowly, slowly, something twisted and tangled between them.
Did she move? Did he? All Alicia knew was that she was in his arms. The chair she’d been sitting on got knocked over because it had been between them.
Nikolai’s hands were in her hair.
His mouth was on her mouth.
His tongue, oh God, his tongue was sweeping inside with practiced strokes that drew a moan out of her from the very tips of her toes. He shook a little at the sound of it; she noticed that. Also the way his fingers dug deeper into the fall of her hair to tug her head back a little so he could plunder her mouth just a little harder. A little deeper.
She wasn’t sure who’d started the kiss, but she was sure who ended it. With a short, sharp gasp, Alicia stepped backward. One step. She was still within reach, if he wanted to grab her, and oh, shit, oh, damn, did she want him to?
The answer, she discovered when she looked at his wet, open mouth, was yes.
The second kiss was softer. Lingering. His hands moved to her hips and settled there, drawing her closer so their bodies pressed against each other. There was no bumping of noses or clashing of teeth. He moved, and she moved with him, in perfect sync.
Both breathing hard, they let the kiss ease away at the same time. She didn’t move out of his embrace this time. She looked up into his face.
“But you . . . you don’t even like me,” she said.
Nikolai smiled in the same lopsided, smart-ass way he always had. “I think it’s pretty obvious, Allie. I do like you. At least a little.”
“Maybe more than a little bit,” she whispered, but when she moved to kiss him again, Nikolai turned his face away just enough to stop her.
“Right.” Alicia cleared her throat. Awkward.
“It’s been a long day. A long week,” Nikolai added. “We’re both tired.”
She nodded and took a couple of steps back. “Yeah. Sure. We wouldn’t want to do anything stupid.”
They stared at each other again. His eyes gleamed, and she felt the answering burn in her own gaze. When she licked her bottom lip, she watched the way his eyes followed the motion of her tongue.
“Allie . . .” Her name slipped out of him on a little moan.
That’s how he would sound if she took him into her mouth, she thought suddenly, stupidly, something like a fever rising within her. A scorching chill swept all the way through her, and Alicia crossed her arms to keep herself from shivering. She couldn’t look away from his eyes.
“I should go,” he said.
She nodded again, trying to keep her voice steady when she replied. She didn’t quite manage to erase the tremor. “You should go.”
With another groan, this one sounding more frustrated, Nikolai ran a hand through his hair again, scrubbing at his scalp as he turned away from her to pace. He threw out his hands, gesturing, speaking without looking at her. “This is crazy.”
“Totally crazy,” she agreed.
“Insane,” he muttered. He touched the drips of water plinking steadily out of the faucet. “You need a new washer.”
“Ilya promised to fix it, but . . .” She shrugged.
“He still takes care of things for you.” It sounded like an accusation.
Allie frowned. “Sometimes. Sometimes he only promises to.”
“Right.” Niko opened her cupboard and pulled out a glass to fill with water.
The fact he knew without hesitation where she kept her glasses sent a pang of memory through her. Oh, to go back to the days of juice boxes and bags of chips parceled out during long summer days, when their parents were all working, and Babulya had shooed them all out of the house to find whatever amusements they could. She drew in a small, hitching breath.
“You never used to knock,” she said.
Nikolai tipped the water glass to his lips and gulped, then put the glass on the counter. He put his hands on it, shoulders hunched, still not looking at her. “Huh?”
“You knocked,” Alicia pointed out. “You never used to. None of us did. “
He twisted his head to show her his profile. “Yeah. I remember.”
“You knocked this time,” she continued. “Like we were strangers.”
Nikolai turned, finally. The corners of his mouth turned down. “We’re not strangers. We could never be strangers.”