Page 34 of Saving Forever
I had no idea I was going to New York.
But I don’t think Viktor did either. This was definitely spontaneous and I’m not sure how to behave, so I just smile. He gently squeezes my arm, letting me know he’ll explain later, and now my thoughts are racing because…three days in New York wasn’t in the plans. And I don’t know how I’ll manage with his family on my own. I hoped they would go and I would stay. Gather my thoughts. Finish things up at Serena’s old apartment.
Instead, I’ll be playing babysitter? Tour guide? I’ve been to New York City half a dozen times, but I’m no expert.
“I would like to see the Broadway,” Mrs. Maslak says. “This is possible?” She looks right at me.
“Of course,” I reply smoothly. “Do you know which show you’d like to see? I’m sure we can get tickets.”
She says something in Russian to her sister, who replies enthusiastically. Olga chimes in and then they all look at me.
“Moulin Rouge.”
“Okay.” I smile pleasantly, even though my heart is beating a little too fast. I wasn’t planning to spend any time alone with them except at the games. And I figured they’d be focused on the ice, not on me.
This changes everything.
We eat and make small talk, and though Viktor doesn’t have his arm around me anymore, he sits close and every so often puts his hand on my knee. It’s innocent enough, I don’t feel like he’s groping me, but it makes me feel like he’s got my back. Because his mother is definitely intimidating. And Olga even more so.
Luckily, they’re all tired after the long trip from Moscow, so we part after lunch and they go to their rooms to rest and clean up. Viktor says something about coming back for dinner later, but they leave it open because everyone is tired.
“When did you decide I was going to New York?” I ask once we’re in the car heading home.
“At that minute,” he admits. “I am sorry, but we don’t want to give them a chance to try to throw me together with Olga. And they will try. Do not doubt this. Mama is on good behavior—this means she is planning something. She thinks our marriage is just piece of paper, so I am not allowing opportunities with Olga.”
“I guess I need to pack.”
“I will put you on different flight,” he says with a soft smile. “And you will stay with me at hotel.”
I’m momentarily startled. “Is that allowed?”
He shrugs. “Eh, yes and no. Sometimes. With children, no. But just us, will be okay.”
I squint at him and then my next statement pops out before I can stop it. “Olga’s really pretty.”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s comparing us or something. “She is attractive, yes. But not beautiful like you.”
For a minute I can’t breathe—does he really think I’m prettier than the Russian Amazon? It makes me incredibly happy that he does. More than it should.
“You, um, think I’m prettier than Olga?” I ask finally.
He looks completely serious as he nods. “Very much so. She is hard. Cold. You are soft. Warm. Much more my type.”
I swallow.
His type.
Does he mean that or is he just saying that to spare my feelings? It’s hard to know because his expression is more neutral than anything else. I’m still having a tough time reading him. It’s getting better but we haven’t known each other that long, so it’s going to take a while to understand the nuances of his expressions and body language.
And the truth is, I’m starting to want to.
A year is a long time to be with someone without any kind of connection. I’m married to this incredibly sexy, somewhat stoic, professional hockey player that’s starting to become important to me. And he just told me I’m his type.
What do I do with that information? Do I tell him that he’s very quickly becoming my type as well? Do I just leave it alone? Something else?
Since I’m unsure, I think I’m going to take the easier route.
“Serena’s going for game one and then she’ll watch the kids so Jayne can fly up for game two,” I say after a moment.
