Dad’s nose crinkles. “You talk about me with Matteo?”
“Probably as much as you talk about me with Dante,” I reply, shrugging. “You come up. You’re my dad.”And I love you,I think silently.
“Ah.”
“So…” I press, leaning forward. “Are you friendly with Dante or what?”
“We’re not unfriendly.”
I fold my arms, leaning back in my seat, almost pouting. “You two should hang out.”
Uncle Lev laughs, the sound coming out in a sharp bark. “Are you playing matchmaker between a Pakhan and a Capo,plemyannitsa?”
“I was trying to be more stealthy about it originally.” Shrugging, I look at his eyes in the review mirror. “But now I think I should just push them together and make them become buddies. Life is too short for subtlety.”
My dad turns around to look at me, blinking in confusion.
“Should we have invited Nico to dinner, do you think? To thank him?”
They share a look with one another, baffled by my change in topic.
“I think he’d feel more appreciated if we didn’t torture him with a family dinner,” Lev says eventually and I snort.
“That’s probably true.”
Since I want to be a good friend, I won’t text him an invitation.
For now.
Chapter Thirty
Anya
Eating my first unplanned meal at home goes really well. Wednesday nights used to consist of fish tacos with rice and beans, which I can see myself asking for again in the future. But I don’t find myself missing them after filling up on a dinner of delicacies.
Given the freedom to make anything for our family’s meal, Grigory created a feast of variety and luxury he normally wouldn’t indulge in without explicit instruction. The appetizers alone were a sight to see. Buttery toast points with caviar, smoked salmon canapés, stuffed mushrooms, and various cheeses with meat.
The main course of prime rib, scallops, vegetables, and garlicky potatoes was my favorite part, though. The cut of beef was too much of an extravagance for me to put it on my original weekly menu, but it has always been one of my father’s favorites. Getting to share that with him again made me feel warm and pleased inside.
The pop of a champagne bottle breaks through the quiet conversation and sound of plates being cleared from the table. Nadya claps as her father lifts his knife to pop open another bottle, and Aunt Irina begins to fill crystal glasses with bubbly.
Dad lifts his eyebrows at them. “Two bottles?”
“This one,” Irina starts, waving the silver-colored container at him as she works, “is non-alcoholic champagne. For our girls.”
Her thoughtfulness makes my cheeks lift as a smile spreads to my lips. I could have the regular champagne if drinking age were the only factor. Though the law says you must be twenty-one, our family has never cared for following the rules. We make our own, and we only obey the word of my father—our Pakhan.
He wouldn’t mind if I drank, if I were medically able to and I wanted to partake. But I’m not, and I don’t think I would want to even if I was. My medication can’t be mixed with a great many things, alcohol being at the top of the list. Even so, the concept of drinking has never appealed to me.
“A toast,” Aunt Irina decides, lifting her glass as she finishes handing everyone else their own. “To having our Anya back home. We’ve all missed you so much,solnyshka.”
“I missed you all too,” I say, lifting my own glass to salute hers from across the table. “I’m so happy to be home.”
“Tap my glass, Papa,” Nadya says almost demandingly, tugging on Uncle Lev’s sleeve.
He softens as he looks down at her and half smiles, moving his champagne flute to hers. They clink together, making a gentle chime, and she grins widely. She’s grown up so much recently, part of me expected for her to ask for a taste of the real stuff—but she seems content to sip on the non-alcoholic sparkling wine.
I take my first sip as everyone else does, feeling my mouth fill with crisp and fresh bubbles. There’s a slight grape flavor, not too sweet or too tart. I would probably drink it again, so I tellmyself that I’ll look at the bottle before the night is over to note the name of it for later.
