“And you have a payment plan or something in writing?” Heather continued her line of questioning.
“Attorney draws up all papers.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Heather asked Jase.
“What’s the problem?” he repeated. She couldn’t be serious.
Heather stared at him, clearly not getting theproblem.
“The problem is she’s dating a man and dishing out a fortune to him.”
“It sounds like the dating and the loan are totally separate. Is that right, Babushka?” Heather asked, dipping her toe straight into the idiocy of his family. She had no idea the undertow was about to drag her down.
“Yes. Of course. Sex has nothing to do vith money,” Babushka confirmed.
Jase’s body did that weird tensing thing again and his eye twitched.
His father chose that moment to check on things out in the hallway. “For the love of all things holy. Mamochka.” His voice raised two ticks higher. “I forbid you to see this man again.”
“You cannot tell me vat to do. You are son. I am mother.” Babushka pressed her index finger at her chest.
“I said I forbid this nonsense.” There it was, the red cheeks, his father’s forbidding everything—they were at the final countdown for Mount Vesuvius to blow his top and take out the town of Pompeii.
“Forbid all you vant. I live life my vay.” Babushka crossed her arms in defiance.
“This is my house. You live here? You break up with him.” His father’s tone rose steadily with the red in his face.
Jase could relate to how he was feeling at the moment.
“Zen I vill not live here.” Babushka grabbed Heather’s arm and tried to usher her toward the door. “That is settled. Ve vill go now.”
“You may not go.” His father’s voice practically rattled the china.
Heather stood still, her face an expressionless wasteland. Welcome to the family. Pull up a chair and grab a tumbler of vodka.
“I vill go.” Babushka raised her chin and tugged at Heather’s arm. “Be a dear and get my bag.”
Heather didn’t move.
“I forbid it.” His father kept the slightest tether on his anger. He’d raised his voice only slightly.
Jase was ready to sign on for another tour in the desert of Afghanistan just to get a vacation from this bullshit.
Babushka firmed her Russian backbone and stood tall. “You keep saying this thing. ‘I forbid. I forbid.’ It means nothing. You go forbid vat you vant and I vill do vat I vant. Everyone vill be happy.”
His father cursed wildly under his breath in Russian before he turned and marched down the hallway.
“I vill vait in car,” Babushka announced and yanked open the door, the wheels on her suitcase squeaking behind her.
“This. This right here is why you don’t get involved in family shit.” Jase turned to Heather.
“Are you mad because she has a boyfriend or because she made a business deal without asking first?” Heather asked.
“You don’t get this. Of course you don’t.” He ran a hand over his hair. This was not how the evening was meant to go.
“What does that mean, ‘of course I don’t’?” She mimicked him, poorly.
“C’mon, Heather, it’s not like you’re in a place to discuss relationship dynamics.” He scraped a hand over his face.
