Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Aunt Sonia.” I gently extract my wife from her hold. “Thank you, but we ate on the plane before landing.” I glance at Alina. “Unless you’d like something?”
Alina’s lips are twitching, as if she’s trying to hold back laughter. “I’m okay, thanks.”
Aunt Sonia is undeterred. “Well, let’s get you a drink. You look positively parched!”
Before Alina or I can protest, she drags her away. I start after them, but Alina catches my gaze and gives a subtle shake of her head. I guess she’s okay with this. I sigh and turn a portion of my attention to yet another politician who’s come to pay his respects, no doubt in the hopes of securing a juicy contribution to his reelection campaign.
Most of my focus remains on Alina, though.
It always does.
Chapter 24
Alina
It’s official. Alexei’s aunt has to be the nicest, most exhausting person I’ve ever met.
She chatters nonstop as she drags me to the drink station, where she proceeds to ply me with everything from fresh-squeezed orange juice—“for the vitamin C, dear!”—to berry-infused black tea and sparkling mineral water. The latter is supposed to “flush out the toxins with the bubbles.”
I politely take a few sips of each drink, grateful that she’s at least not pushing alcohol. Champagne and vodka are definitely not on the dietician’s approved list of beverages. Then again, Sonia seems to know about my cancer; her comments about me “feeling better” indicate as much. I wonder who told her. Alexei? Ruslan? Judging by the way she enthusiastically waved at Ruslan when he passed by, she’s close to them both.
It’s interesting to observe my husband in this milieu, where he and his brother reign supreme. Everyone gravitates toward him, but he’s cool and distant with them… completely unlike the way he was with the short, plump woman who’s currently talking my ear off about her recent trip to the “healing waters” in the Czech Republic—something she’s highly recommending I do.
“I’ll definitely talk to Alexei about it,” I promise with a smile.
She claps her hands. “Yes! It’ll be so good for you. And there’s an amazing psychic there too. You two should consult her. She’s told me all kinds of things over the years, and they’ve all come true!”
Okay, now she’s lost me. But I keep smiling and listening as she tells me how the psychic predicted the exact date her cat would come into her life, and what kind of curses her parrot would learn.
“I swear, I didn’t say those words around him, ever, yet he learned them, just like she said he would,” she says with amazement in her voice. “And don’t even get me started on what she told me about my dog!”
I’m not about to, but she tells me anyway. And I’m glad she does because the story somehow transitions into one about a teenage Alexei cuddling the same dog as a puppy, and my heart goes haywire at the images that fill my mind.
Alexei with a puppy.
Alexei with a baby.
Our baby.
One we may never have.
I don’t realize I’m blinking back tears until Sonia lays her hand on my arm and says softly, “Oh, honey. You have it just as bad as he does, don’t you? My psychic said that would be the case. I guess she was right again.”
“Your psychic?” I stare at her, distracted. “She told you about… Alexei and me?”
“Of course. She tells me everything.” Sonia’s hazel eyes shine in her round face. “When Alexei was eighteen, she told me he’d meet a girl soon, and she’d forever be the one for him. Said their path wouldn’t be easy, but if they made the right choices, it would all work out in the end.”
That’s exactly the sort of thing a “psychic” would say—vague and generic, applicable to pretty much anyone. Yet my spine prickles, as if someone has tickled my neck with a feather, and I find myself weirdly hungry for more.
“What exactly did she say?” I ask, and instantly want to kick myself.
Why am I encouraging this madness? I don’t believe in psychics or predictions.
Sonia’s voice softens, the shine in her gaze dimming. “She told me that Alexei’s fated love would have great trauma in her life… that she’d experience a tragedy that would sink its claws not only into her soul but also her flesh.”
Chills run down my back, even as I tell myself that Sonia is just saying this because she knows my story. If Alexei or whoever told her about my cancer, they probably also spoke to her about my parents’ deaths… maybe even gave her the full story. Then Sonia blabbed to this con artist, who promptly repackaged it with a profound bullshit wrapper and sold it to her as a so-called prediction.
It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
“She also said that she’d either break or emerge stronger from it,” Sonia continues. “And that ultimately, she would have to make a choice. As would Alexei.”