Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“What’s that?” He sounded annoyed but curious. Maybe annoyed because he was curious.
“Baba—that’s my grandmother—knitted it for me. It’s been on my bed ever since I was a kid.” Just running my fingers over the soft wool made me feel better. Then I looked around at the penthouse, sighed and stuffed it back in the box.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I gave him a look. “It doesn’t fit in here.” I waved at all the stainless steel and granite, at the designer light fittings that probably cost more than my rent. “This place is too...cool.”
He pulled the blanket from the box and stalked into the bedroom. Through the open door, I saw him spread the blanket out on the bed. I felt myself bite my lip, and a warm ache started to spread through my chest. Don’t, I warned myself.
He walked back to me, scowly and gorgeous. “This…” he blurted, gesturing at the penthouse. “Not having personal things...it’s not...cool.”
And suddenly, everything flipped around in my head. When I’d first seen the bare, soulless penthouse, I’d assumed he’d ruthlessly shed all his personal belongings because he saw them as a weakness. But what if...what if he never had any? What if he lost everything, every photo of a loved one, every heirloom, every beloved childhood toy.
I saw the ice in his eyes fracture and melt and he quickly looked away. I was right.
“Tell me where you want things,” he told me. “So, you don’t have to move.”
I nodded quickly and started unpacking. But inside, my mind was whirling. What the hell happened to his family?
27
BRONWYN
That evening, Radimir came with me to see Baba. I tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come but…
“She raised you after your parents died?” he’d said.
I’d nodded.
“Then she is like your mother. And she will want to meet the man who’s marrying her daughter.” And he’d given me a look I was getting to know, the one that said his mind wasn’t going to be changed, and I’d sighed and nodded. But I was worried. I had no clue how Baba was going to react to him...or to the news I was getting married.
As we walked in from the parking lot, a guy was coming out. He screwed his eyes closed and inhaled and suddenly Radimir pushed me behind him…just in time to get the guy’s sneeze in his face. “Cover your mouth next time!” he snapped at the guy. The guy scuttled off, terrified. And I stood there blinking in shock. He’s trying to stop me from getting ill.
Outside Baba’s room, I put my hands on his chest to stop him. “Let me go in first,” I insisted. “And let me do the talking.” I took a deep breath...and went in.
Baba was sitting in her chair, like always, looking as if she hadn’t moved since the last time. It broke my heart when I knew what a ball of energy she normally was. “Heyyy,” I said lamely, pulling up a chair. “Um. Listen. Announcement. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I looked towards the door. Radimir took my cue and walked in but...something was different. He was still as big and intimidating as always but he looked sort of...humble. He dipped his head in deference to Baba, as if she was the most important person in the room. “Mrs. Hanford,” he said in that carved-ice accent.
Baba’s head lifted and I saw her focus on his face. She was fighting the brain fog, and it made my chest go tight.
Radimir sat down beside me. “Radimir is, um.” I swallowed and then swallowed again. “We’re, uh…he’s going to…”
“Mrs. Hanford, I’m going to marry your daughter,” said Radimir. He took my hand and squeezed it, and something swelled in my chest, a bubble that threatened to lift me right out of my seat. I tore the bubble open and crushed the shreds back down. He’s just pretending, I told myself viciously.
Baba gave me a look I hadn’t seen since she caught me and Jen with a bottle of beer, aged seventeen. She managed to raise one eyebrow. What’s going on?!
“It’s okay,” I promised. “Honestly.” The last thing I wanted to do was worry her. I told her the same story I’d told my friends: that he was a Russian property developer, that we’d been seeing each other for a while, but had kept it quiet. But Baba wasn’t stupid. She knew something was wrong.
To my surprise, it was Radimir who managed to reassure her. He was polite, respectful and engaging: he even managed to make her laugh a few times. We stayed for over an hour and by the end, it seemed like Baba at least wasn’t going to call the police, even if she was still suspicious.
As we prepared to leave, I saw him looking around at the cramped, windowless room with its peeling paint and dirty plates. When we closed the door, he tugged his waistcoat straight. “This is unacceptable,” he told me. He looked up and down the empty, echoey hallway. It really was like a prison. “Do the staff even go into her room?”