“Hi, Artyom,” I say nonetheless. I don’t feel comfortable using the Russian diminutive Cheslav calls him by.
“Hello, Billie,” Artyom answers. He’s ruggedly handsome, like his brother. However, his hair is long and unruly, which gives him more of a boyish look. A very bad boy, if what I’ve read on the internet gossip sites is correct, but he’s been nothing but polite and charming to me whenever we talk.
“I see my brother has not yet lost his mind because he is unable to play hockey,” he says now with an affable grin. “It is obviously because he has such beautiful company. I am jealous.”
And just when I think my cheeks couldn’t get any hotter.
“He’s keeping me sane too,” I tell Artyom.
Cheslav turns the phone back toward himself to add, “Yes, this is favorite activity of mine. Keeping her sane.”
And just in case his brother doesn’t get that sexual innuendo, Cheslav punctuates his statement with a wolfish grin.
“Can we have some private talk?” his brother asks after they exchange a few more pleasantries.
Cheslav nods, then walks away, speaking in rapid-fire Russian.
I stay focused on the puzzle, but I ask the Alexa device to play the latest episode of Death, Sex, and Money, my favorite podcast when he doesn’t immediately come back.
The show’s nearly over by the time Cheslav returns to the table. He has a weird look on his face like he’s tasted something strange.
“What’s up?” I ask. “Is everything okay with your brother?”
“Da, more than okay. He has opportunity to buy his team, and he wants me to come on as his partner. I would be co-owner, running day-to-day, and overseeing the coaching staff.”
“Wow! That’s amazing!” I say, clapping my hands. “You’d get to mix hockey and business. That sounds like a dream job for a Rustanov. Am I right?”
“Da, you are right,” he answers with a quick nod. “My cousin Nikolai does same with the Indiana Polar.”
“So you even have a mentor to provide some guidance for your journey. That’s awesome!”
“Da, this is what I said to my brother when I told him I would get back to him after talking to you.
I scrunch my brow. “What do I have to do with it?”
He shakes his head at me like I’m crazy. “You are my soon-to-be wife, the mother of my child. You think I will agree to this without talking to you? And of course, I will not leave here if you don’t agree to come with me?”
I look at him.
And look at him some more.
So many logical reactions run through my head:
Yeah, Minnesota is most of the way across the country. But we could do long distance while I work in South Carolina.
And how about my dreams of becoming a financial manager? Minnesota would mean establishing a whole new network.
Plus, he’s still an over-the-top athlete, and I’m still an extremely grounded accountant. Sure, we’re getting along now. But how about in the long run. Could two people as opposite as us work long term?
Who knows? And the thing is, we don’t have to get married right away.
I mean, we’ve only really known each other without any blackmail being involved for a few weeks. Like, shouldn’t we give it at least a year before tying the knot?
And I cannot express enough how crazy it would be to get married after such a short time.
All these answers run through my head. Rational answers. Sane answers.
But suddenly I’m just tired.
Tired of fighting him.
Tired of fighting myself and how I feel.
Tired of always being practical.
And that’s why I simply say, “Okay, let’s do it.”
He wobbles a little on the other side of the table. I can tell he was braced for an argument. Luckily he’s agile.
“Okay?” he says after a moment of confusion. “To be clear, you are saying okay to moving to Minnesota.”
I nod slowly, not quite believing what I’m saying myself. Or how right it feels. “Yes, okay.”
His eyes narrow with a shrewd look. “If you are saying okay to Minnesota, you are also saying okay to marriage and Just Dance video announcing our engagement to the world. Minnesota is, how you say, package deal.”
“Okay…” I say again with a shake of my head.
Cheslav squints like I’m trying to pull something over on him. “So, that is yes to all my deal points.”
“Boy, if you don’t get out of here talking about deal points. But yes, I’m saying yes to everything,” I answer with a laugh.
“Yes! She finally said yes!” Cheslav yells triumphantly.
I end up laughing even harder when he comes around the table and lifts me over his head. Like I’m the Stanley Cup.
“I am going to make you so happy, krasotka,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You will see I am not just pretty boy. I am husband and father you can trust for rest of your life.”