Her gaze searches mine before she leans in and kisses my cheek, a soft sigh leaving her. “You’re doing a lot better than most men. C’mon, you can walk me home and then kiss me goodnight.”
We walk back together. The stars are out now, the air warm but comfortable.
At the back door, I tug her toward me gently. “I want to take you on a real date.”
“This was a real date.”
I shake my head. “Dinner.”
There’s that smile again. “Okay.”
“Really?” I blurt the word out.
“Yeah.”
My lips tug up again. “Okay, Saturday night.”
She pushes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.
My eyes slip shut. Fuck. It’s perfect.She’s perfect. And for once, that part of me that likes to remind myself this is all just some fleeting fancy is suspiciously quiet.
“Goodnight, Viktor.”
I press one last kiss against her lips. “Goodnight, Avelina.”
Avelina isn’t trying to fix anything. She isn’t trying to fix me. She isn’t pretending my difficulties don’t exist. She’s meeting me where I am.
And that, that fact alone, makes me believe I can have a relationship.
A real one.
And I can really have her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
AVELINA
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m excited at the thought of our dinner date tonight. Matvey and Nikolai have offered to babysit—with Babulya hovering nearby, I’m sure, because I don’t think she trusts anyone when it comes to the kids.
After lunch, Viktor tells me he’s bought me a surprise and that it’s waiting in the bedroom for me.
I hurry upstairs, unsure what I’ll find. And as I enter the bedroom, I see a huge cream box tied together with a big blue bow. Emblazoned on the box is the name of one of Vegas’ most exclusive boutiques.
Running my fingers over the luxury packaging, I open it slowly.
Taking off the lid, I fold back the layers of delicate tissue paper to reveal a stunning dress. Sapphire silk that gleams like moonlight on water. I can tell just by looking at it that it must have been outrageously expensive.
I try it on immediately, pulling off my jeans and T-shirt and stepping into the slinky fabric.
I stand in front of the mirror, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The dress is gorgeous—too gorgeous. It should make me feel like a queen.
But it feels…like it’s strangling me.
It’s too tight.
Everywhere.
My stomach, my hips, my breasts. It clings to every inch of me, highlighting everything I’ve spent years trying to hide.
