Tea nearly goes down the wrong pipe. I cough, sputter, pressing the napkin to my lips.
“G-grandmother—”
“It is a simple question. If you are lying to me, I will know. If you refuse to answer, I will assume the marriage is invalid and move to annul it.”
Blood roars in my ears.
I look down at my teacup—at last night’s memories flooding through me.
Scottie’s hands on my hips. His mouth tracing fire up my throat. The way he whispered the moment he entered me. How gentle he was when he pushed inside, slow and careful, yet confident and experienced. Checking every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t in pain.
How he held my face after, forehead pressed to mine, telling me he loved me like it was the simplest truth of his life.
My cheeks burn.
I lift the teacup to my lips to hide the blush and smile threatening to break free.
My grandmother chuckles—low, knowing. “Ahhh. I see.” She taps her spoon lightly against the china. “So you have.”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“Then you know that I cannot condone you to be engaged to one man while married to another. And I do not condone divorce except under grave circumstances. If you have been intimate in this marriage, then an annulment is out of the question, unless either of your intentions during the marriage were made with the intention of being fraudulent to keep you here.”
A flush climbs my neck.
“Now,” she continues, “tell me about this man. This… hockey player.”
My heart warms in ways I no longer have control over. “He’s good,” I say. “He takes care of everyone around him. His family. His teammates. Even strangers.” I smile at the thought of him. About how everyone in Whitefish loves him. How anyone who meets him loves him immediately. “He sends money home everymonth to support his parents. He’s trying to get his father into a nerve regeneration clinical trial overseas.”
Her eyes sharpen. “With Dr. Markov?”
“I… I think so. I’m not sure of the name.”
“Then it must be him. Markov is a Russian neurologist. Brilliant. He studied under your great-aunt’s husband.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I know him very well.”
Hope slams into me so hard my fingers tremble around my teacup. “You do?” I shift in my seat. “Do you think you could speak with him? Ask him to consider Scottie’s father for the trial that he’s about to start?”
She studies me, taking her time.
“I will consider your request. He owes me a favor,” she says slowly, “but you must do something in return.”
It seems everyone owes my grandmother a favor. She likes to collect them.
“Anything,” I say immediately.
Her lips twitch, almost a smile, almost not. “Careful, Katerina. Promising anything can be a dangerous proposition. I’ve trained you better than that.”
She sets her cup down perfectly centered on the saucer.
“I have other business in Seattle,” she says, rising from her chair with the grace she passed down to me. “I will let you know my decision about your marriage tomorrow.”
Panic shoots through my chest. “Don’t you want to meet Scottie?”
She pauses, fixes me with a look so piercing it feels like it goes straight through my ribs.
“This has nothing to do with your American husband,” she says. “This has everything to do with you.Your place in this family. Your worth. Any man in your presence would fall in love with you. I have no question of his intentions or that he’s fallen madly in love. You have the same presence as your mother thatyour father fell for in one evening at the theater,” she watches my reaction for a beat. “The question is what your intentions are with him: did you marry him for love… or for freedom?”
“I love him,” I whisper. “Truly.”
