Nice Day For A White Wedding

My jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Why didn’t she go to the police?”

Alex shakes his head. “It was a different time then, Cindy. The police would have done nothing to stop it. If anything, they would have taken her father’s side. Women’s rights were barely even a thing then, and Valeriya was only allowed to stay with us because Babushka stepped in and paid him enough money for him to go away. She didn’t tell Valeriya for a long time, because she wanted Valeriya to stay because she wanted to, not because she felt like she had been bought.”

“It sounds like something from a Victorian novel. It’s hard to believe this happened in the eighties.”

“Russia in the eighties was like the Victorian times in many ways,” he admits.

At that moment a woman passing by our table suddenly stops and gives a little shriek. She says something excitably in Russian. The only word I catch is Alex. Alex stands and, resting her fingertips on his arm, she reaches up on tiptoes and kisses him lightly on his cheek. I’m sure she whispers something in his ear before moving back and flicking her hair seductively.

“Well, hello to you too,” I mutter.

I didn’t mean to say it out loud, and I feel my cheeks blushing when both Alex and her turn towards me.

“Natalia, this is Cindy, my fiancée. She’s English,” Alex says. “Cindy, this is Natalia, an … old friend of mine.”

“Less of the old, you,” she scolds, fluttering her fake eyelashes coyly at him, before glancing at me, her eyes are suddenly cold and appraising.

“Hello,” she says.

Even before I can return the greeting she has already turned her attention back to Alex. Well, at least she’s switched to English so she’s slightly above the ice sisters in terms of friendliness. Natalia is clearly more than an old friend of Alex’s, or at least she wishes she was judging by the way she can’t take her eyes off him even for a second.

“How’s Babushka?” she coos.

Great. She’s close enough to know the family.

“She’s good,” Alex replies.

“Still keeping you firmly in line?” she asks with a giddy giggle.

I want to jump up and throttle her. Her giggly laugh is freaking annoying. She’s starting to say something else, but Alex speaks over her, cutting her off.

“It was nice to see you, Natalia, but you’ve got to get on. And I’d like to get back to my fiancée.”

He’s looking at me when he says it, and I hate the fact that I feel a moment’s triumph when I look at Natalia’s dismayed expression. She glares at me, then says her goodbyes to Alex, back in Russian I notice. Then she flits away.

“An old friend, huh?” I say as casually as I can when Natalia has walked away. I can feel the spikes of jealousy inside of me and I’m so angry at myself for feeling this way. After what happened this morning when I was told in no uncertain terms that I’m on the job. None of this is real. Except to me. The more I try to hold back the more it’s starting to feel real. I have to find a way to stop myself from falling for Alex. Maybe it’s too late for that, but then I have to get a hold of myself, stop the rot.

“Yes,” he says.

“And why not? She’s gorgeous.” I can’t keep the petulance out of my voice, but I’m not sure I succeed. Especially because I’m telling the truth. Natalia is gorgeous. She has long red hair and curves in all the right places.

He looks at me seriously. “You have nothing to be jealous of, Cindy.”

“I’m not jealous.” I try to laugh but the laugh won’t come and I look down at my plate so I don’t have to meet Alex’s eyes.

He does laugh though. “You’ve almost turned green.”

The truth hurts and I look up at him with a cold smile and lie through my teeth. “It’s an act, Alex. How do you think I would react as your fiancée if some ex was hanging all over you? I wouldn’t be too happy about it, would I? And if this story gets back to Babushka, I want my appropriate reaction to the situation to get back to her as well.”

“Whatever you say, Cindy,” Alex says with a small smile. It’s clear he doesn’t believe a word of what I said.

I double down. “I’m serious. Why would I be jealous?” I demand.

“I have no idea, but you’re protesting way too much.” He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He’s right. I am protesting way too much. If it had been an act and he had questioned me, I would have rolled my eyes, said whatever, and moved onto a different topic of conversation. It’s too late for that now though. Alex sees straight through me. He’s so exasperating.