“Come in, come in!” She stepped back into the hallway, welcoming him.
All of this was overwhelming, but he noticed that she wore pajama bottoms and a faded T-shirt. She was talking, but he wasn’t really paying attention to what she said as she led the way to the kitchen, where Ilya was at the table, and Babulya turned from the stove to greet Niko with a cry of joy. It wasn’t the strangest thing in the world for Allie to be there with them, but still, something about it jarred him even as Niko allowed his grandmother to enfold him into her embrace. His brother got up to clap him on the shoulder, shake his hand, and even hug him, as they all seemed happy and surprised and excited to see him.
Niko wasn’t sure what he felt.
Everything was off. Subtle changes in the house. The smell of a different fabric softener. The easy way Allie moved around the kitchen, not like a guest or even a longtime family friend but something more. And finally, ultimately, the flowers in the window boxes outside.
“What’s new?” he asked at last, a plate of breakfast in front of him that he didn’t want to eat. He looked at his brother, who was grinning, and then at Allie, who was not. “What’s going on?”
“Congratulate us,” Ilya said. “We got married two weeks ago.”
“In Las Vegas,” Babulya added, the disdain thick in her voice to show exactly what she thought of that.
It wasn’t until much, much later that night, after his brother had taken him drinking—even though Niko was not even twenty-one yet—that he managed to have a moment with Allie alone. Ilya had stumbled off to bed. Babulya, too. Allie sat at the kitchen table with a laptop, a paper ledger next to her along with a stack of papers and a checkbook. Work for the dive shop she and Ilya opened together. A dive shop, Niko thought derisively. In the middle of Pennsylvania?
He wasn’t sure how the argument started, but it was his fault. He couldn’t hold himself back from telling her how wrong she was. Marry his brother? She must be insane, she must be desperate, she must be pathetic.
“You were gone,” Allie said in a voice so cold, so distant—yet somehow so broken—that it was a knife right through Niko’s heart. “You left. You didn’t even say good-bye!”
More words came after that, spilling out. He wanted—needed to explain to her that his brother did not love her. Could not possibly. Ilya was seeking a replacement for Jennilynn, and Allie would never be able to be what his brother wanted because of that. It all came out wrong. Nasty, mean, hurting her, and he couldn’t make himself stop, because he was hurting, too.
He had not intended to accept the membership at Beit Devorah, a contract that would require him to work on the kibbutz in jobs they determined were best for him in exchange for room, board, and a stipend. Niko loved working in the apiaries, tending the hives and harvesting the honey, but it was never where he saw himself staying for the rest of his life.
The trouble was that once it became real to him there would be no Allie in his life, moving all the way across the world had seemed like the only option.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Alicia had never imagined that the weight of a pile of papers could have ever felt so much like a stone, but there it was. The envelope in her hand, the paper slick yet rough at the same time. She put it on the table, went to the fridge, and pulled out the bottle of champagne she’d had chilling in there since Thanksgiving. She hadn’t bought it thinking she’d have anything to celebrate. She wasn’t sure she did, now.
She poured two glasses and handed one to Nikolai without a word. It was in place of a kiss, and if he didn’t know that, Alicia did. She sipped and looked at him over the rim.
“So . . .” He lifted the glass to the light spilling in through the sliding glass door to the backyard, twisting it from side to side as though he was studying the bubbles. “Celebrating?”
“I think it’s worth celebrating,” she said. “It was a big decision, and not an easy one, but I think it’s the right one.”
Nikolai nodded and put the glass on the table. “I told them I wouldn’t be going back after my leave. It was a contract, not a prison sentence. I got my payout. They wished me well. I’m welcome to visit anytime, and if I ever want to live there again, I’ll have to go through the same approval process I did the first time. It’s pretty cut-and-dried.”
“When did you decide you weren’t going back?”
“After—” He coughed, then cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. “The night in the attic. It took me a while to admit it to myself. Then I had to work out the details. I wanted to tell you. I really did.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t.”
“You wanted to stay for me?”
“Yes, Alicia,” Nikolai said. “I wanted to stay for you.”
“I signed the papers two days ago. Already deposited the check.” She took another sip.
Nikolai smiled. “Uh-oh. Is all that money burning a hole?”
“Maybe just a tiny one.” She finished her glass of champagne and winced at the sting of bubbles at the back of her throat. She thought about pouring another, but didn’t.
She didn’t want to be crying, but she was.
“Would you look at me, please?” Niko asked.
She didn’t want to look at him. There was nothing in Nikolai’s face she would allow herself to see. Still, she turned because he’d asked her to. She could do that, at least.
It was a mistake, of course. How could she ever have thought she would be able to look at his face, the downward slope of his mouth that was not a smile yet fighting bravely not to be a frown? How could she look into the depths of his gray-green eyes without seeing her own reflection?
Nikolai took the glass from her hand and put it beside his. He put his arms around her. He kissed her . . . oh, he kissed her, and there was no way she should have ever even let him in the front door, but she had. She did. She always would.
Somehow, Alicia found the strength to put her hands up flat on his chest to hold him off. “Nikolai. Stop. Wait.”
He did, licking his lips as though to keep the taste of her lingering as long as possible. “Don’t say it, please. Don’t tell me you’re leaving.”
“But I am.” She drew in a breath and wished for a moment that she’d doused herself in a couple of shots of tequila rather than a few sips of cheap sparkling wine.
He stepped away from her and dragged a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “You don’t have to.”