I know she told Irina much the same recently. The women have had several deep conversations since they reunited as aunt and niece. And after each one, I know that Irina must have confided in her husband as Anya confided in me.
“I don’t want to talk to you. The more you talk, the more I want to cut out your tongue.”
Fuck, this is going to be a long night.
…but Anya is worth it.
Chapter Twenty
Anya
“They’re back!” my cousin’s voice rings out from the living room. She’s been watching through the windows, waiting for our fathers to return.
If I wasn’t so nervous, I might have been too. Instead, I’ve been helping my aunt in the kitchen cutting up cheeses for a charcuterie snack board. Dinner is being taken care of by Grigory, of course, but he couldn’t tell Irina no when she declared she would take care of the pre-dinner bites.
Setting my knife down, I immediately move to the sink and start scrubbing my hands clean. I can’t have cheese on my fingers when Matteo walks in. Not that he’d try to shake my hand or touch them, anyway. But I just…I need to be perfect.
“Breathe,solnyshka.He’s just a boy.” My aunt rubs my back softly. Leaning closer, she whispers, “Even if he is your boy.”
“He’s not—” The denial dies on my tongue as the sound of the front door shutting hits my ears. “Do I look okay?”
“Stunning,” she replies without hesitation.
I don’t feel stunning, but I don’t feel like a mess, either. I took care doing my hair and makeup today, and I picked out one of my more comfortable but pretty outfits to wear. A long white blouse that could be a dress if I was comfortable wearing something so short, and a pair of regular black cotton pants with matching slippers.
“Your friend is tall,” Nadya reports, skipping into the kitchen with heavy footsteps following behind her.
“Is he?” my aunt asks, quickly winking at me before turning to her daughter.
I don’t have the ability to respond to Nadya’s observation. I’m too busy focusing on breathing because I feel like time is slowing down. Like I’m halfway between panicking and passing out as anticipation floats around the room…until everything suddenly returns to a normal pace.
The air freezes in my lungs when he walks in. Flanked by my uncles, Matteo Moretti strides into the Morozov family home like he doesn’t feel even remotely unwelcome. There should be a clear tension visible between him and Uncle Lev at least, given how hostile my uncle has been toward Matteo in the past, and yet, I see nothing of the sort.
At least not on Matteo’s end.
“Oh, give the poor boy some space,” my aunt instructs, walking over to the group of men. She shoos them away and surprises Matteo by wrapping him in a quick, almost motherly hug. “It’s so nice to meet you in person. I hope your travel was good?”
“Ugh, yeah,” Matteo stammers as she pulls back, smiling at him. “It was good, and it’s nice to meet you in person too.”
“Well, let’s give these two a couple minutes alone together,” Aunt Irina prompts with a clap before hooking her arm around her husband’s. “They don’t need all of us staring at them while they catch up.”
“Yes they do,” Uncle Lev grumbles. Though he looks upset about it, he doesn’t dig his heels in and refuse to move, he lets her drag him out of the kitchen.
“You too, boys,” she chimes over her shoulder, waving for my father and Uncle Mikhail to join them.
“What could they have to catch up about?” Dad questions in a huff as he reluctantly leaves. “They talk every single day.”
Uncle Mikhail says nothing, but he pins Matteo with a warning glare as he follows the group.
Matteo chuckles awkwardly, giving my uncle a swift wave goodbye.
Turning to me, my friend blows out a breath, eyebrows raised as if to saywell, that was something.
“Hi,” I finally say, breathing out in relief.
“Hi,” Matteo echoes, smiling as he does. “Feels different to say that in person, doesn’t it?”
You have no idea.
