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Montana’s sigh was resigned. “Okay.”
“For today, we’ll start with the palace.”
“That’s fine, but what about after Crimea?” Montana asked. “You’re going to continue to travel after we complete this mission, right?”
Dahlia nodded, but slowly and after a brief pause. This was the closest any of them had come to the “what happens next” talk since Vadisk’s asshole assumption he would have to move to the States.
“‘Don’t Follow Me’ is my life. Would you want to come with me?”
Vadisk nodded immediately. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Hell would freeze over before he’d let his wife traipse all over the world alone. Most of the places she traveled were damn dangerous.
Shit.
He hadn’t really considered that aspect of their future. He was nervous enough with her here, anxiously waiting the time when they could get the hell out of Crimea, when he could get her back to safety. Now, he could see this wouldn’t be the end of it at all, given her career.
Montana was slower to reply to her question. “It would depend on my dissertation. I’ve just begun work on it. So for the next year, year and a half, I’ll be focused on that. But…yes, I would like to travel with the two of you.”
“I’d like to keep traveling,” Dahlia said after an awkwardly quiet moment. “For as long as I can. To be honest, I’m not sure how many more years that will be. My night vision is already…failing.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder, her gaze locked on her laptop screen. Vadisk could tell, like Montana, it was difficult for her to talk about the things that caused her pain. Her blindness was just as hard a subject for her as Montana’s claustrophobia was for him.
Vadisk hated seeing both of them so low. This was the beginning of their marriage, and so far,it had been nothing but stress and sadness and bickering since day one.
Well, not today.
Today, they were taking a fucking break from all of that and having some goddamn fun.
“Let’s go,” Vadisk said. “Get dressed and I’ll call for a driver to take us to Alupka. I was doing some research last night, and I think you’re going to get some great footage,Sonechko. I also think there are enough artifacts in the museums to keep a nerd occupied, Montana.”
“Hey,” Montana objected, even though he was smiling widely.
His upbeat tone seemed to have broken the heaviness surrounding them, as Dahlia rose, laughing. “You’re a total nerd, Montana. Might as well embrace it.”
“After that, if there’s time, why don’t we head into Sevastopol and stroll down Primorsky Boulevard. Good shops and restaurants,” Vadisk added. “We can eat dinner there instead of ordering room service again.”
Dahlia nodded enthusiastically. “I think that all sounds wonderful.”
“Me too,” Montana agreed.
Several hours later, they were walking along one of the more secluded paths in the thirty hectares surrounding Vorontsov Palace. Dahlia had filmed countless sites around the park, Montana and Vadisk taking turns with the camera as she talked about various points of interest and gave historical context. After the last shot, she packed up her camera, proclaiming she had more than enough footage to work with, so now it was just them, hanging out.
They’d eaten lunch together in a tea room on the grounds. Well, Dahlia and Montana had eaten together, while Vadisk sat alone at a table near theirs, playing bodyguard.
“When it’s just the three of us, walking along a quiet path like this,” Dahlia started, “I can almost pretend we’re not in Crimea, not in danger.”
Vadisk agreed, even though there were tiny signs that reminded him of exactly where they were. For one, he was walking a few feet behind them, and two, he couldn’t reach out to take their hands the way he wanted to.
“Even if danger finds us, we’re in good hands with our bodyguard.” Montana glanced over his shoulder at Vadisk and gave him a quick wink.
“Keep your guard up anyway,” Vadisk said to Montana. “Because I’m not bulletproof and I have had my ass kicked before.”
Dahlia shook her head. “I refuse to believe that. I mean…who? How? You’re just so,” she spread her arms out like a fisherman telling a tale, “huge!”
Vadisk laughed. “I’ve always been big. I was well over five kilos when I was born.”
Montana whistled. “Is that twelve pounds? Thirteen?”
“Closer to thirteen.”
