“Your aunt seems nice.”
“She speaks very little English so she can only be nice.”
We chuckle together.
“Holly.” He puts a hand on my cheek. “We are together every day but we do not spend the time. I would like…to take you on date.”
I cock my head. “Viktor, we don’t have time for dates. Later in the summer, when?—”
He puts a gentle finger on my lips to stop me. “Always will be an excuse. But we must make time. Is important.”
“But—” He cuts me off again.
“You are important. To me.”
“Viktor, I think we have to be careful with this.”
“With what?”
“Things that go beyond the scope of our contract.”
There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes.
Annoyance?
Hurt?
Disappointment?
It’s hard to tell because it disappears so quickly.
Then he nods and steps back. “Okay. I understand.”
I don’t think he does.
I don’t even understand.
I just know that getting too close will be dangerous.
Because I’m already starting to get attached. Addicted to his touch, to falling asleep next to him. I can’t imagine a year of that kind of intimacy and then just shaking hands and going our separate ways. Maybe that would work for him but it definitely doesn’t work for me.
“Tell your parents I’ll pick them up around ten.”
He looks like he wants to say something but then nods. “Yes. I will send text.”
Then he turns away, and it feels like I just lost something.
Except I never really had it, so I don’t know what I’m feeling.
This sucks.
Olga and Mrs. Maslak bow out of the trip to the farm, but Irina and Mr. Maslak seem excited as I pull onto the long gravel driveway that leads to a small parking lot next to the sanctuary. The house is on the other side of the property, away from tourists and traffic, so you can’t see it from here.
What you can see is Elvis, one of my grandmother’s albino peacocks. There are two, which is quite a feat because they’re extremely rare, but Grandma got them just before she died from a farmer who bred them. And they quickly became her favorites. Elvis is the male and he has pink eyes. He’s absolutely stunning with his white plumage and my favorite.
His mate, Priscilla, is delightful but also a huge pain in the ass. She can be mean-spirited, has been known to chase children, and occasionally bites. I’m not afraid of her but she’s made more than one tourist cry.
“Priscilla bites,” I say as we get out of the car. “So don’t approach her. But Elvis is fine.” I call to him and the big white bird turns to me expectantly. He knows I always bring treats. Priscilla knows too but she’s more standoffish. She’ll eventually come to me once she sees all the treats Elvis gets.
