Gela looks uncomfortable with the pronouncement, but nods politely.
Darya, ever the peacemaker, changes the subject. “Gela, have you been to Russia? Do you speak any Russian?”
“No and no,” Gela answers. “Though I did try to learn some basic phrases from an app this morning.”
“Oh? Let's hear something,” Darya encourages.
Gela hesitates, then clears her throat. “Privet, menya zovut Gela.”
Her pronunciation is atrocious, and we all try not to wince. Still, I feel a surge of something warm in my chest at the effort she's making. She and I both know she doesn’t have to.
But she’s playing her part, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.
“That was... a start,” Darya says kindly. “We'll help you learn more.”
Just then, the maids come in with arms laden with dishes. Soon enough, traditional Russian food covers the table: borscht, beef stroganoff, blini with caviar, and more.
“Everything looks amazing,” Gela gushes at Yulia, who beams at the compliment.
“Thank you. It's not often we have a new family member to impress,” Yulia replies, shooting me an annoyed look.
I know I'll be getting an earful from her later for not giving her a heads-up. This was the casual fare at Yulia’s. Had she known Gela was coming, she would have done ten times better.
Dinner progresses surprisingly smoothly. My siblings make an effort to include Gela in the conversation, careful to steer clear of any business talk since they’ve caught on that she doesn’t know about our world. Nadya and Darya are particularlycharming, asking Gela about her life growing up, her work, and her hobbies.
Gela, initially guarded, gradually opens up.
“So… You race bikes?” she asks Nadya incredulously.
“All the bloody time,” my daredevil of a sister looks far too pleased with herself. “And this year? I’m going to try my hand at race-car driving.”
“Over my dead body.” Trifon glares at her.
“Come on, brother,” Nadya laughs at him. “Just because you’re a dull bore, doesn’t mean I have to be too.”
Gela leans closer to me and whispers. “Your sister’s so cool.”
My heart swells. I knew she was nervous, but watching her take such genuine interest in my family is an unexpected perk I hadn’t even dared to expect. I only needed her to show up and be polite, but she’s going above and beyond.
“So, Gela,” Miron asks, “how are you adjusting to life with our brother? He can be... difficult.”
“That's one word for it,” Gela laughs, giving me a pointed look, which makes everyone else laugh too.
“Val's not used to sharing his space,” Nadya chimes in. “He's always been the lone wolf of the family.”
“Really?” Gela turns to me, looking surprised. “I never would have guessed.”
“You're a brave woman, taking him on,” Iosif adds with a laugh. “Most women run screaming after a week.”
“I would have run screaming too, if given the chance,” Gela mutters, and though I know she means it, everyone else takes it as a joke. Thank god.
As dinner wraps up, Darya and Nadya suggest showing Gela the gardens, and my sisters whisk her away before I can object. I watch her go, noticing how easily she falls into step with them, how simply she fits amongst them. She looks like she could be a permanent addition in here, and I hate myself for wanting that when I remember that the only reason she’s here is that I gave her no choice.
“She has no idea, does she?” Leonid's voice comes from beside me, low and accusatory.
I turn to find him glaring at me. “No.”
“What the fuck are you playing at, Val? Bringing an innocent American into our family?” He pulls me aside and whisper-shouts at me.
