Heather leaned into her husband, the two of them melding into a cohesive unit.
Roman wanted that for himself. The love part. He didn’t want to settle for anything less than the way they looked at each other like the world only revolved around them. The way they only had to touch to become a solid unit.
Roman didn’t want to be jealous of what his brother had. Not really. He just also wanted a sliver of that in his life.
He lifted Louise for a quick candid of them together.
Yeah, snapping photos at weddings wouldn’t suck. He’d get a hit of this every Saturday afternoon while he built up his business.
This was the other end of the spectrum from grenades flying and bullet rounds puncturing the air around him. An end that made a helluva lot more sense.
“You know Sadie?” Heather asked, all genuine curiosity. “That’s awesome. She’s so nice.”
“Yeah, I know her.” Roman gripped Louise harder. “Sheisnice.”
To put it mildly.
Uh, and that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss at the wedding with all his meddling Russian family present.
They’d have their noses shoved so far up his business that poor Sadie wouldn’t know what hit her.
“Who does who know?” Babushka asked, wiggling into the small circle that had formed around him.
Oh great, the queen of the big Russian family was about to get nose-deep in his infatuation with a particular attorney.
“I know Sadie.” Roman drew out her name. “She’s Eli’s sister. Marlee’s best friend. You all know them, too, right?”
The smart-ass in him was strong tonight.
“Of course, I know Sadie.” Babushka’s once-over likely involved a glance straight into his soul.
How his very not-innocent grandmother managed that look of complete and utter innocence was beyond Roman.
Yet, he knew his babushka was reading him better than any lie detector test. He went with honesty. “We met at one of Jase’s parties. Haven’t seen her in years. Knew her before she went to law school. Haven’t seen her since.”
A flicker of something in Babushka’s elderly eyes made Roman want to crawl over the bar top and into a bottle of whatever the bartender wanted to throw his way.
That look was a look he’d seen before.
His grandmother was going to go Babushka on the situation. He could feel it in his Dvornakov bones.
“Sadie is von vith good hips?” Babushka mused to herself. The question was a question, but it was also more of a statement. A rhetorical Babushka’d question.
“Oh no,” Heather whispered.
“Fuuuuuck.” That was Jase.
“Excellent hips.” Roman channeled his inner attorney on behalf of Sadie.
Babushka pinched his cheeks. “You vill be married soon, my grandson.” She rose on her tippy-toes to plant a kiss on Roman’s cheek. “Love is in the air. Love isgoodthing.” Babushka raised her voice at the end, causing a good portion of the motley crew of Russian family members nearby to raise their glasses to her.
Maybe with Babushka’s brand of assistance, love might truly be in the air.
“To my grandson Roman,” Babushka said loud enough to be heard over every-fricking-thing in the room. “And his fiancée, Sadie!”
There was a great deal of clinking of glasses. Stomping of boots.
All of Roman’s blood sank to the tips of his toes. Slowly, so he felt every inch of it. Oh shitballs, Babushka did not just do that.
