“Yeah, I know. I’ll check in tomorrow,” I tell him and say my goodbyes before hanging up to spend the rest of my afternoon off with Marianna and her two favorite thirteen year olds.
15
MARY
By the timeMaxim pulls his massively expensive car into the underground parking garage and the private elevator deposits us into his—ourhome, it’s late and I am thoroughly exhausted. I hated feeling the way I did today, hopeless and guilty, as if the baby was in the wrong position and a week early bymydoing.
I do fear it was the wedding that sent her into labor, but as Willa explained multiple times, the baby really was all cooked up and ready to come into the world any day now. I thought the wedding should be earlier, but they wanted more time to plan (Two months is already an insane turnaround, and if we wait any longer, Vanessa will be the one indisposed). So it was decided: a wedding ten days before Willa’s due date.
I kick off my shoes and hold them by the backs as soon as we step inside, the floor looks spotless and shining. Our bags were already brought inside, so Maxim doesn’t carry anything as he holds back a few steps behind me while I look around.
My new house.
It’s so different to the home I grew up in, this modern penthouse atop a building. It’s perfectly clean, and I would be shocked if Maxim had anything to do with the choices of the luxury furnishings and art pieces around each room. The spaceisn’t devoid of him, though. Built-in bookshelves line two walls in the living room, not filled with leather-bound first editions and decorative encyclopedias, but instead with the colorful spines of novels, many well-worn.
Movement from the corner of my eye puts me on the defensive, but when I snap my gaze in that direction, I am more shocked to find a stretching, grey ball of fur on the loveseat.
“Is that a cat?” I ask, though it could be nothing else. It stretches into an arch before looking up at me and emitting the scratchiest, smallest meow I’ve ever heard.
I approach the cat slowly, and it does not scurry away, even as I kneel down in front of it. It’s got blue eyes, kind of like Maxim’s, but sea blue instead of the middle of a storm.
“Oh, yes. I should have asked, are you allergic?”
I hold out a hand to the cat who sniffs it for a moment before pressing the top of their head against my hand.
“I’m not,” I say. “Just surprised you have a pet. It’s friendly.”
“Her name is Greta. My sister Nadia left her with me as a kitten. I couldn’t get rid of her,” Maxim explains. The cat jumps to the ground, opting to rub her fluffy body against Maxim’s legs until he picks her up. She’s a tiny thing, made to look even smaller in his arms as he scratches under her neck.
“I thought you might have a pet snake,” I say, standing and facing him and the cat. I step closer to him to scratch her head.
“And why’s that?”
I look up at him and his eyes are already on my face. I swallow and grab his wrist, sliding his shirt sleeve down his forearm until his detailed tattoo is displayed. It’s a snake, beautiful and detailed, wrapped around his arm with flowers. Forget-me-nots, I think.
“You don’t have a Greta tattoo,” I say.
“Not one you’ve seen, at least.”
I think he’s making a joke, but I can never be certain with him—his humor is rare and subtle, delivered with as serious a tone as his normal conversation. Greta meows between us, squeaky still but louder, affronted that we stopped petting her, I think.
I didn’t realize I’d stepped so close to Maxim. I put some distance between us before he lets the cat down so she can rub against our ankles.
“Can I have a tour?” I ask. Now’s as good of a time as any, and I have to see our room one way or another.
“Of course.” Maxim clears his throat, then leads me through an efficient tour of the downstairs. I’ve seen much of the public spaces, the entryway, the kitchen which looks on to the living room with the tall windows over the city, but there’s a hallway that leads to a gym. It’s smaller than the one at home, but I suppose that’s to be expected, especially if he trains here alone. He doesn’t have a horde of Morellis training together most days.
I feel an errant pang in my chest at the reminder that I won’t be training with them like I have for most of my life. When Willa moved out, I missed her in our daily sessions, but she came back to train with us at least once a week, though after she was pregnant with the twins, that training turned to lounging in a reclining chair our dad brought down for her, reading or doing coursework on her laptop while she did.
Maxim opens the door across the hall and I peek inside.
“Guest room,” he says. It’s completely inoffensive. “Full bathroom there, and then another guest room.” He points to the final door.
“Do you often have guests?”
“Not often,” he says. “But my sisters, at times.”
I hum in acknowledgment. I didn’t get much time to talk to his three beautiful sisters, each tall and perfectly polished. LikeWilla or Vanessa. His sister Sofia, at least, looked mean, which made me like her more.
