Nice Day For A White Wedding

I turn to Babushka once he is out of the door. “I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me,” I say to her.

She smiles at me but she shakes her head. “I’d like nothing more, dear, but my arthritis is playing up something terrible today and I was actually planning on having a lie down after lunch.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to not show my alarm and hoping it is nothing serious. “Is there anything I can do?”

She smiles sweetly. “That is so kind of you, but no, dear. Valeriya will give me one of my pills and I’ll be out like a light until dinner.”

“I’ll take a walk with you,” Petra offers with a bright smile.

Oh shit. A half hour over lunch is one thing, but can I really stomach more time with her? I shake my head and smile politely. “Oh no, it’s fine. I can go by myself. I’m sure you have plans and I really don’t want to spoil your day.”

“Nonsense,” she replies. “I don’t have anything planned and a walk sounds like a great idea with the sun shining like that. I’d only end up in the drawing room reading, and I think some fresh air sounds much nicer.”

I can’t think of any other way to get out of it without being rude and so I find myself nodding. “Then that would be lovely.”

There can only be two reasons Petra is offering. Either she’s realized she was acting like an obnoxious brat and she’s now making an effort to get to know me a little better, or, the more likely scenario, this is another way of torturing me. If that’s the case I’m ready for her.

Valeriya appears and helps Babushka from the conservatory and I wonder for a second if Petra’s claws will come out now. It doesn’t happen though. Instead, she smiles pleasantly at me.

“Are you ready now or did you want a cup of tea or something first?” she asks.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Great. Please wait here a minute,” she says and is gone before I can ask why. A few seconds later I start to wonder if this is her plan. To leave me sitting here like an idiot waiting for her when she has no intention of coming back. If that’s her plan, then the joke is on her because it’s really quite nice sitting here. I take my phone out and send a text to Star, Raven, and Rosa.

I look up when Petra returns. She pulls a bottle of wine and two glasses from behind her back. “I thought it would be nice to have a glass or two of wine at the fountain down by the stables.”

I agree that it would be and we leave the conservatory. Petra asks me lots of questions about my life in London and I carefully divulge select pieces of sanitized information about my life. She hangs on my every word, smiling and nodding.

“I actually love London,” she gushes.

“You should come and visit Alex and me sometime,” I say just to get a reaction.

“I might just do that,” she agrees.

We both know she won’t, but she does a damn good job of pretending she will.

We reach the fountain and sit down on the bench in front of it. Petra opens the wine and pours two glasses. She hands me one and I wait for her to pour herself a glass. Only when she sips herself do I sip from my glass. It’s refreshing and fruity.

“Good choice,” I say lightly.

“It’s one of my favorites. I love the honey and blackberry accents,” she says. She puts her glass down on the bench and turns towards me. “I wanted to apologize to you, Cindy. I was such a bitch to you.”

“It’s okay,” I say quietly. She seems sincere, but I can’t let my guard down.

“It’s really not who I am,” she adds. “But I had already told myself before I met you that I would make sure I didn’t like you. Because if I didn’t like you then I wouldn’t care about what Alex is doing to you. But the thing is, I do like you, and I think you deserve to know the truth. I’m only sorry you have to hear it from me instead of him.”

Oh, here we go. I look at her innocently. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, because I can see that you are deeply in love with him.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s using you, Cindy. You’re just a pawn in a game you don’t understand. Once he’s duped Babushka, he’ll dump you.”

Petra can’t possibly know about our fake romance? So what the hell is she talking about? “Stop talking in riddles and just tell me what you want me to know,” I say, my voice harsh.