Page 56 of Marrying the Silver Fox

Her eyes soften as I speak, and she reaches out to touch my shoulder, as though coaxing me to go on. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want⁠—”

“I need to, Andie,” I reply, shaking my head. “I—I’ve kept it in for too long. And this is your family we’re talking about now, as well as mine. I…” I pause. Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.

It’s difficult to bring it all to mind, the blur of memories from that fateful day. I’ve done my best to block it all out. But it comes back to me now, in bits and pieces—the smell of blood, the sound of the gunshot, the roar of terror in my ears as I dropped down to my knees beside her and tried to pull her into my arms and will her to stay alive.

“My father, my mother, and Max and I,” I begin, speaking slowly, as though that will make it a little easier to manage. “We were out one day. I couldn’t have been more than twenty, and we had taken a trip to Moscow—to one of the art galleries that my mother loved so much. God, she loved art, she would collect pieces from all across the world. I used to tell my father sometimes that I thought he only got into this business because he wanted to keep up with everything she collected…” I shake my head, smiling slightly.

“But by then, our father was known through the country. His business was starting to grow, and it was coming with more attention. We had a few guards, but my mother insisted that we didn’t need them outside of the house. Told my father that she wanted our lives to be as normal as possible, and that she’d do anything to make sure they were…”

I grit my teeth, swallowing hard, staring at the pan full of steaming red in front of me. “And when we stepped out of the gallery that afternoon, someone attacked us. An old debtor of my father’s—he was trying to get payback on my father, but he misfired, and the shot hit my mother instead.”

I choke out the last words, but force the emotion down. Andie reaches out to touch my hand, not speaking, looking at me intently as she nods at me to go on. I gather myself and continue.

“She died there, on the street,” I tell her. “With all of us. My father did what he could to save her, but it was too late. She had been shot through the heart, and she didn’t even make it to the hospital. I held her hand on the way there, but I felt it go limp in the car, I knew⁠—”

I stare up toward the light, stopping myself in my tracks. I can feel it all now, feel it all more clearly than I did then, the stark, sharp memory of her loss. “I knew that she was gone.”

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Andie mutters. “I had no idea…”

“There’s a reason for that,” I reply. “My father never speaks of it. Just redoubled the security on the house, made sure Max and I were never out without someone to protect us. By the time I came to America, I was glad to get out of the country for a while. Just so I didn’t have to think about her every time I set foot in that city.”

“You didn’t seem to—I mean, when we went back there…”

“It was different, when I was with you,” I explain. “I didn’t feel like the same man. I was your husband then. Not just her son.”

“You must miss her like crazy.”

“All the time,” I admit, surprising myself with how sure I am of what I’m saying. “I wish you could have met her. You’d have liked her a lot. She never let herself get pushed out of what she…” I trail off as I realize what I’m saying, and I see Andie’s shoulders slump slightly as she listens to me.

“Is that why…why you were so determined that I wasn’t going to go anywhere without you?” she asks me carefully. She must know that she’s skirting close to some dangerous territory, but now that I have laid myself bare in front of her, she’s willing to try and broach the subject.

I nod. “I think so. I never really thought of it like that, but…”

I’m caught off guard by an image of her in the same position of my mother, sprawled on the stone steps of the gallery, her mouth opening and closing as she searches for air. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, and she leans against me as though aware that I need her right now more than ever.

“I’m here,” she promises me softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Nikolai.”

I draw back from her, clasping her face in my hands. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

“You left before. After the argument. You snuck out of the townhouse⁠—”

“And look where that got me,” she points out, with a slight laugh. “Trust me, I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

I study her for a moment, realizing that I don’t entirely believe her. Because the reason that she left could not have been just the clash we had over the pregnancy. No, it was more than that. She wanted her freedom back then, and I can’t believe that she won’t long for it at some point down the line too. Even if she feels safe and comfortable here now, there’s no telling if she will change her mind and go looking for more sometime down the line.

“What happens when you get tired of this place?” I point out, gesturing around. “You didn’t want to give up the business, you didn’t want to be stuck here. You told me that yourself. I can’t see you just forgetting all of that as though it was nothing.”

She tips her head to the side slightly, as if it’s the first time she has really considered the matter. She glances down at her belly, cupping a hand around it for a moment before she replies.

“I…I don’t know,” she confesses. “I think as long as I’m pregnant, I’m happy with the way things are. But…”

“After that? When the baby’s come along?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to just sit around here all the time with nothing to do but be a mother,” she admits. “I worked too hard for that. But, my business…” She frowns. “I don’t imagine people will want to associate their weddings with me, given that I’m part of your world now,” she admits. “I could sell it on. Give it over to someone else so I have some savings of my own. And then…”

“Part of my world,” I repeat after her, the words hooking into my head before I can stop them. She glances up at me, seemingly surprised that I’m willing to so much as entertain the idea.