The front doors swing open before I can knock. Noelle stands there glowing, all curves and sparkle, her hair perfect as ever.
“Sasha!” she squeals, flinging her arms around me.
I laugh and squeeze her tight. “Oh my God, look at you, Mrs. Rich-and-Married!”
We both squeal again, grinning like idiots, and for the first time in weeks, I feel light. We pull apart, still laughing, but Noelle’s smile softens the moment she really looks at me. Hereyes narrow, sharp and knowing in that way I’ve always hated—and loved—about her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, stepping inside as if the marble floors and grand staircase might distract her.
But Noelle has never been one for distractions. She follows me into the living room, her gaze sweeping over me like she’s reading lines of text no one else can see. “You’ve lost weight,” she says flatly. “And don’t try to deny it. You’ve got this…sadness on your face. Like something’s eating you alive.”
I let out a short laugh, brittle at the edges. “You should’ve been a detective.”
She tilts her head, not amused. “Is it a boy?”
The air feels heavier, pressing down on me. My throat tightens as I try to keep my walls up, but I’ve been carrying this weight for too long, and it’s exhausting.
I finally meet her eyes, my voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. It’s a boy.”
Noelle doesn’t give me time to sink further into my thoughts. She loops her arm through mine, tugging me toward the back of the house. “All right, spill. Who do we have to kill?”
I let out a startled laugh, the heaviness in my chest easing just a little. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“That’s not an answer,” she sing-songs, giving me a sly glance. “But don’t worry—we’ll strategize over food. I’m cooking today.”
That makes me laugh harder. “You? In the kitchen? That’s new.”
She grins, pushing open the swinging door. “Believe it or not, yes. Though I do have help. Niko’s here, and one of his cousins too.”
I pause for half a beat at the threshold, the smell of garlic and fresh herbs hitting me first, then the sight of two tall figures moving around the island like they actually belong there.
I step into Noelle’s kitchen, already smiling at the prospect of seeing Niko, who is an amazing husband to Noelle—until the air leaves my lungs in a violent rush.
It’s not Niko that stops me dead.
It’s the man leaning against the counter.
Lev.
For one wild second, I think I’ve gone mad—that I’ve conjured him from memory, from want. But no. He’s here. Real. Solid. A knife glints in his hand, his head tilted toward Niko as he listens, hair falling across his forehead like I remember too well.
My entire body seizes. I can’t move, can’t breathe. The sound of my heels on the tile must give me away, because he turns.
Our eyes lock.
The world narrows until there’s only him.
Oblivious to the tension, Noelle breezes in. “Niko, Sasha is here.”
Niko looks up from the cutting board, grins wide, and pulls me into a quick side hug, apron and all. “It’s been too long, Sasha.”
I smile back. “It’s good to see you, Niko.”
“Same here.” He turns to Lev. “This is Lev. A brother.”
Lev turns fully toward me, and the shock in his eyes mirrors my own. For a heartbeat, we just stare, two statues carved out of disbelief. Then he speaks, his voice smooth, controlled, almost too polite.
