He handed over the food wrapped in paper, the kvass in plastic bottles. I paid—he tried to refuse my money but I insisted. Slipped an extra hundred in the tip jar when he wasn't looking.
"Come back soon," Oleg said. "Don't leave it seven more years. Bring your dedushka. He misses having you boys around."
We walked away with our food. Sophie stayed quiet until we were out of earshot. Then she squeezed my hand again.
"You're different here," she said softly. "More relaxed. Like you're not the Pakhan for a little while."
I considered that. She was right. I could feel it in my shoulders. In my jaw. The constant tension I carried had eased. Not gone—it would never be completely gone. But lessened.
"My grandfather used to bring us here every summer," I told her. We found a bench facing the ocean and sat. I handed her a still-warm pirozhok. "Me and my brothers. Kostya and Maks. We'd spend whole days on the beach. Eating terrible food. Playing in the waves. Building sandcastles and then destroying each other's creations."
She bit into the pirozhok. Her eyes closed. Made a small sound of pleasure that went straight to my cock. "Oh my god. He wasn't lying."
I smiled. Watched her eat with that focused intensity she brought to everything. Watched crumbs fall onto her yellow dress. Watched her lick her fingers unselfconsciously.
"It was before—" I stopped. Couldn't finish that sentence. Before my mother left. Before everything got complicated. Before I learned that the people you loved could abandon you.
Sophie's hand found mine on the bench between us. Linked our fingers. She didn't say anything. Didn't push. Just squeezed once to let me know she understood.
That she understood without me having to explain.
I'd never had that before. Someone who just knew. Who could read the silence and fill in the blanks and not require me to articulate every painful thing.
"Tell me more," she said after a moment. She'd finished her first pirozhok and was starting on a cheese pastry. "About when you were little. What you were like. What your brothers were like. I want to know everything."
Everything. The word echoed. She wanted everything. Every piece of me. Every memory. Every scar.
And the terrifying thing was that I wanted to give it to her.
"Kostya was always the biggest," I said. "Even as a kid. He'd beat up anyone who bothered me or Maks. Got in trouble constantly. Our father used to say Kostya was born angry. Born ready to fight."
"And Maks?"
"Smart. Too smart. He'd hack into our father's computer just to prove he could. Would charm his way out of every punishment. Teachers loved him. Other kids wanted to be him." I took a drink of kvass. The sweet-sour taste was exactly how I remembered. "I was the quiet one. The one who watched and calculated and planned."
"The strategist," Sophie said.
"Always." I looked out at the ocean. Waves rolling in steady and eternal. "Our grandfather knew it. That's why he chose me as his successor instead of my uncle or one of my brothers. Not because I was the oldest. Not because I was the best fighter or the most charming. Because I could think seventeen moves ahead."
"Like chess."
"Exactly like chess." I turned to look at her. Sun-golden and beautiful and present. "But chess is easy. Pieces follow rules. People don't."
She leaned against my shoulder. "I'm glad you think seventeen moves ahead. Means you thought through choosing me."
I had. Had calculated every angle when I'd claimed her at the auction. Every risk. Every benefit. Every possible outcome.
What I hadn't calculated was falling in love with her.
"Best decision I ever made," I said quietly.
She lifted her face and kissed me. Tasted like cheese pastry and kvass and Sophie. Tasted like everything good.
When she pulled back, she was smiling. "Tell me more. Tell me everything. We have all day."
So I did. Told her about summers on this beach. About Mikhail teaching me chess using pieces made of driftwood. About Kostya throwing Maks in the water for cheating at cards. About the time I got stung by a jellyfish and cried for an hour while my grandfather told me stories to distract me from the pain.
Told her about the good times. The before times.
