Of course, Mama was immediately over to examine it and proclaim her praises. Maxim didn’t care; he would not return to us again that evening because his entire life now revolved around Sonic the Hedgehog and would for the next two to three business months.
I didn’t give Vitali his present. I couldn’t, not in front of Mama. Not that it was inappropriate, but I knew it might make him feel a certain way, and I couldn’t without knowing how. So, when he went into Mama’s room to change back into a person and not the embodiment of winter and my new kink, I followed him inside.
“Vitali,” I said as he shrugged the blue velvet and silver garland coat off. “I have something for you.”
“Hm?” He raised a brow, moving the beard to the side as he fiddled with the ribbon that held it on at the back of his head.
Flustered, I nervously fingered the small, wrapped present behind my back. He tossed the beard on the bed as I stepped closer, and rubbed his chin where the cheap plastic irritated his skin. I didn’t want to look at him, and he probably—definitely—positively either already owned it or I misread the situation and this would be the dumbest gift anyone had ever gotten him.
I held it out before I lost my bravery. His hand purposefully brushed my fingers, as they always did. Almost holding. Almost.
He scraped the corner of the paper with his nail, and peeled it off the flat package.
“I didn’t know if—”
“In Me,In You,” he slowly read offthe cover of the Chloé Dae album.
“She just released it,” I said sheepishly, my hands clasped so tightly they were turning white. I couldn’t read his expression; he just stared at it, and it did nothing for my emotional well-being until he looked up.
And his eyes were sadder than ever.
His arms enveloped me with unrestrained strength, one hand holding my head tightly against his chest. Thethump-thump-thumpof his heart became my own rapid beat. I couldn’t cry again, I couldn’t, and yet the tears were right there—sitting on the edge of my consciousness because I felt his foundation crack. Maybe so much that I could reach inside.
“Thank you…” he whispered, stroking my hair. He could have been shaking, but I would never know because I was so nervous I shook too.
I knew he was going to kiss me when he let go. His hand lingered, tracing my spine. There was a certain look to him, this glass-like reflective quality to his eyes. His jaw shifted and lips parted with a shallow breath, fingertips pressing on the small of my back and inviting me closer. I only knew his lips, and could feel the heat of them before they touched mine—
But they never did.
The doorbell vibrated through the apartment with the force of a thousand bombs, because that’s what it would take to ruin that moment and stop me from getting my first kiss. And yet…
He let out an exasperated exhale, the only reassurance I would get that this was the moment he planned on kissing me.
Even if it was ruined.
“Go open it,” he told me. “Before Mama does. It’s important.”
I obeyed, but hesitantly, and made sure to give him every possible opportunity to stop me and continue what we started. He didn’t.
When I swung the bedroom door open, Mama was already on her way and I had to really put my heels to the test outrunning her without twisting an ankle. Even though Vitali explicitly told me to open it, I still looked out the peephole. Out of all things I expected, what I saw wasn’t one of them.
Five men. Five huge men in winter coats and various hats, none of them smiling and none of them looking too thrilled to be at my door.
But then I recognized Misha, even bundled up in a thick scarf and an ushanka sitting tightly on his big head. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Tyumen?
It wasn’t the time to assess the holiday plans of someone who was more than likely a mafia goon at my door on New Year’s Eve. I opened it.
The man closest to me said, “Yekaterina Petrovna?”
“Yes…”
“Ey,” he turned to the rest of them, and there was a lot of shuffling as he pushed past me. I heard Mama fussing and asking all sorts of questions, and Vitali’s voice reassuring her it was okay.
“Happy New Year,” Misha said, taking off his hat, then squinted past me and yelled, “Take your shoes off,Blyad!”
“Is there room?” the man I recognized as Boris (of Boris and Ivan, the dinner-interrupting-possibly-brothers extravaganza) asked, peeking inside but not entering.
“Vitali said there’s room. Just have to move some things around with the plumbing,” Misha said.
