Yet, here Sergey is. Talking to his mother as if she’s a child in need of a stern talking-to. I most definitely swoon.

  Sergey paces as he speaks. His mother barely gets a word in edgewise, but within a few minutes, he tells her he loves her and hangs up. He hands my phone back to me with one hand while the other runs through his hair.

  “She won't be bothering you again,” he reassures me.

  My eyes widen. I was so lost in watching him that I didn't even pay attention to the actual conversation. She really won’t call again? Is he sure?

  “I'm sorry you've been dealing with that. They don't even mention you when they call me.”

  I huff. Of course they don't. Why bother Sergey with what they think needs to be done? It's all supposed to be up to me. I’m the problem anyway. “Thank you,” I finally tell him, truly grateful.

  He nods. After a moment, he says, “You told her we were divorcing?”

  “That we're thinking of it.” I shrug. “I don't know what I was hoping to accomplish with that.” With a sigh, I hide my face in my hands. The weight of both of our parents’ expectations has overwhelmed me for so long. I've tried to ignore it and move on, but being here with Sergey and knowing that soon, one way or another, this fiasco will be dealt with has brought it all back to the forefront. Exhaustion weighs me down to the point I feel as if I’m drowning.

  Sergey closes the distance between us and envelops me in his arms. “You should have told me sooner.”

  “I don't need someone else telling me what I should have done or should be doing,” I snap into his chest. Does he not see I’ve been doing the best I can?

  “I'm just saying I was never supposed to be your enemy.”

  My shoulders sag. “I know.” He was an enemy by association. I'm still not sure where he stands on that ground either. He left me to find my own way home from the disaster of our first date. It's been a few days since then and we've been walking on eggshells around one another.

  What has startled me, though, is this side of Sergey that I've never seen before. I didn't know these things exist in men. Even my own father doesn't do what I've witnessed from Sergey this week. He's cooked a meal or two, but even if I cook, he always washes the dishes afterward. He's asked if I needed any clothes washed when he did laundry. He's gone grocery shopping and has even picked up some snacks for me, without even asking. I can only imagine that he knows what I like from the little time we voluntarily spent time together all those years ago or from my mother, way back when they started pushing us together.

  He's sweet. Certainly doesn't seem like he expects anything out of me. It seems as if he truly sees me as an equal, as a partner in this mess. It's changed my view of him and in a good way. Being here to see his movements, his body...it's messing with my mind. Or, more accurately, other parts of my body. For so long, I've directed my anger with my parents, with this situation, at Sergey too and it's slowly dawning on me, with each peek of that ring hanging from his neck, that I've been a fool to do so.

  He’s right. He’s an ally and I should have at least considered him one.

  “The party is today.”

  “I know,” I groan. Sergey chuckles as I sit up to look at him, causing his arms to fall back by his sides. “You aren't going to leave me there, are you?”

  “You aren't going to get pissed and nearly get yourself run over by a car and then call me a liar, are you?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

  Deciding now isn't the time to dive into it, I shrug. “We'll have to see.” Swiveling away from him and his too-intense gaze, I mutter, “I have to get ready.”

  I'm dreading this party so much. Why does Sergey have to do this to me? It spells disaster. How will he introduce me? Are they really nice people? Even if so, will they be nice to me? Why invite me when they’ll ask questions when I undoubtedly disappear soon? Just because Sergey stood up to his mother for me doesn’t mean I think this thing between us will actually work. Yet, he’s integrating me into his life as if it will. My stomach launches to my throat as I get ready and then as Sergey drives us over to his teammate's house.

  The party is hopping in the backyard when we arrive. Sergey leads me that way with a hand on my lower back. I don't know whether to stick to his side or run far, far away.

  At first, no one notices us.

  And then...

  “Sergey!”

  The little girl who shouted his name runs full speed toward him. His hand falls away from me and he crouches to catch her as she barrels into him. Within seconds, a second girl follows. He rocks on his heels from the impact.

  “Hello, Stephanie. And I can't forget you, too, Stella. How are you two today?” he asks.

  “We've been waiting for you!” they say together.

  And then one of them notices me. I'm not sure which.

  “Who are you?”

  “This is Galina. I'll need you two to help me keep an eye on her and make sure she has fun, okay?”

  The girls eye me with a little suspicion, but nod. One little girl takes my hand while the other takes Sergey's.

  “Come with us. Momma said to bring you over when you got here.”

  Sergey chuckles but allows them to drag us. And that's when I realize everyone is trying their hardest not to gawk at us. I told Sergey this would be awkward. How can he just show up with a woman? And if he introduces me as his wife? Even worse, especially if things fall through.

  I really want to go home.

  “Can you speak Russian too?” the little girl asks me as we walk.

  I nod, but then I realize she's asked me in Russian. I smile and respond in kind. She smiles brightly.

  “My name is Stella,” she tells me, and then in English, “Sergey has been teaching us, but Momma got us classes too. Sergey is more fun.”

  I laugh. “You are learning very well.”

  “Thank you!” she beams.

  The girls have finished their job of leading us over to a picnic table where a group of people have gathered. One of them I recognize as the man who was in Sergey's apartment the day I arrived, who turns out to be the girls' father.

  “Okay, who is she?”

  I blink at the person who asks upon realizing he's sitting next to someone who looks exactly like him. How many twins are walking around this place? The brother slaps the speaker in the back of the head.

  “Don't be rude, Cal.”

  “We're all wanting to know,” he says.

  “Her name is Galina. That is who she is,” Sergey states with a note of finality. I wait for more questions, but not a soul asks a follow-up question.

  Well, he's not saying I'm his wife, so that's good.

  I'm quickly introduced to entirely too many people. Sergey then leaves me with someone named Sylvia, claiming I'm in good hands, while he supposedly runs off to grab us something to drink. Sylvia nestles a baby to her chest. She tells me his name is Seth. I nod. Everyone seems to be watching me, still. Meanwhile, I spot Sergey, off chatting away with someone.

  He actually looks happy and in his element.

  “You look like a fish out of water.”

  “I'm sorry?” I bring my attention back to my party caretaker.

  “You look very uncomfortable,” Sylvia repeats. She leans in closer. “I know who you actually are.” If possible, I stop breathing. “I'm quite fond of your husband. Almost more than anyone else on the team aside from my own husband. He's a good man and why the hell you don't want him quite frankly makes me wonder what the hell is wrong with you. If you don't see it, then Sergey needs to ignore my advice to give it a go and run as far away as he can.”

  She leaves me stunned as she leans away as if she wasn't even talking to me. Upon her dismissal, it seems as if everyone else takes her cue and realizes I'm nothing worth paying attention to after all.

  This is almost as bad as being back home. Anytime I’ve decided to venture back home, it’s as if my family does a one-eighty. As if their disappointment is so great, it’s too much to interact with me. I’m largely ignored, possibly as punishment for my actions. Even here, the same thing is happening. Can I not go anywhere without my marriage and those who support it making me feel so minuscule?

  I stand up to go find myself something to drink. Or, that's what I'm telling myself is the reason I'm getting up. This is too hard; I wish I never came to find Sergey. The reward was not worth it. There is no reward. There rarely is in my life.

  I spot a cooler on the other side of the pool and head that way. A few people are in the pool. Someone is manning a grill. Seems like quite a few people are in town, but then I don't know how many people normally show up for these parties.

  As I walk by the pool, kids run toward me. They are chasing each other and it looks like Stella might have a tight squeeze between me and a chair that wasn't pushed in. I turn sideways to give her more room, but Stella bumps into me just as I turn. It's enough that I lose my balance and fall backward into the pool with a small shriek.

  Luckily, no one is behind me. I surface with a sputter to see a group of horrified little kids staring at me.

  “It's fine,” I immediately tell them. No one pushed me intentionally, and the last thing I want is to be the reason these kids get in trouble. “I was planning to go for a swim anyway.”

  “In your clothes?” Stella asks, not buying my story.

  “Yep.”

  “Galina!” Sergey skids to a stop next to the kids, looking equally horrified.

  “I'm fine,” I repeat. “Decided to go for a dip.”

  Parents start shouting kids' names and one by one, they disperse.

  “Are you going to get out?” he asks.

  I shake my head. While a complete accident, I’m embarrassed. Enough attention has been drawn to me and if I can hide in the pool for a bit, that sounds like a great idea.

  He kicks off his shoes and socks, sits on the edge, even though his ass is totally getting soaked from the splash I just made, and wiggles his finger for me to come over. “Why won't you get out?”

  “Because being in this pool relatively alone is the best part of this party,” I admit.

  Sergey frowns. He shocks the hell out of me by then sliding into the pool. Neither of us have a change of clothes, so this is perfect. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me close.

  Quietly and in Russian, he talks to me. “Let me guess. Sylvia said something probably not nice, but something that was looking out for me. People are giving you entirely too much space and not talking to you. That's probably my fault since I'm not overly talkative. And lastly, you feel out of place here.”

  “She's that predictable?” I can't help but ask.

  Sergey laughs. It's kind of nice to see him laugh. He's relaxed around these people. “Yes. Do you want me to tell her off? She won't listen, but I can do it.”

  I shake my head.

  “I'm so sorry!” We look up to see Sylvia, who has come to apologize on behalf of her daughter. “Stella told me what happened.”

  A couple walks up. “How can I help?” the woman asks. The man just chuckles while looking at Sergey.

  “We're okay, Julie,” Sergey says. “Stop laughing, Collin. She's fine,” he adds. “We're going to head home to change.”

  I guess that means we're coming back? Great.

  Sergey lifts himself out of the pool and then turns to hold a hand out for me. He pulls me out and Julie offers us towels before scurrying inside to get us some. I tune out while Sergey and Sylvia smooth the incident over with one another. Julie quickly returns with a set of towels, handing them both to Sergey. He wraps one around my shoulders. I shiver as he runs his hands up and down my arms for a few seconds. He then wraps a towel around himself.

  Finally, he excuses us and we're on our way.

  “Are you sure you're not upset?” he asks once we're in the car.

  “Yes. I'm okay.”

  We ride in silence until we return to his apartment. Sergey takes my hand before I can step too far away from him.

  “Galina.” I turn to face him, wondering why he's seemingly more attractive right now. His hair is a little wacky. Strands moving all kinds of ways. His shirt hugs his skin. Physical attraction means nothing. I’ve been attracted to plenty of people over the years; nothing ever come of that either. “Galina?”

  I snap out of my ogling. “Yes?”

  He grins. “I asked you a question.”

  “What was it?”

  Instead of answering, he asks, “What are you thinking? What were you looking at?”

  I narrow my eyes. “What was your actual question?”

  “Are you finding me attractive right now, Galina?” The teasing in his tone is slightly annoying.

  “Why would I do that?”

  He takes a step closer to me. “Because I'm naturally handsome.”

  I can't help but laugh. I didn’t expect that kind of response from him. He runs his hands up my arms, causing an involuntary shiver. “We should change. You told them we would go back.” And this suddenly feels like a dangerous situation. He stands entirely too close and looks entirely too attractive. Which, he's always been attractive, but we never crossed that line, even after we married. Yes, that's right. I've never had sex with my husband. Our parents fully expected us to, but Sergey didn't pressure me or even mention it once. I took full advantage of that.

  “Galina.” His voice is low and sultry. Why does he keep saying my name? Why is it so hot? He tilts his head down just a little. My breathing shallows. He's so close. “If I kissed you, would you let me? Or would you slap me?”

  Is he asking for permission? I can't even believe he's mentioning it. Is this something I actually want to do?

  Before I can contemplate it any longer, he kisses me. He actually kisses me! His lips press to mine. At first, softly. Tentatively. Then harder with more conviction. And it's...it's heavenly. My body comes alive as if it's been dormant all this time. My hands turn into fists, clutching his shirt. My back slams against a wall, but what distracts me is that Sergey's body then presses against mine.

  I nearly moan when I feel his hands slip underneath my shirt.

  “Should we stop?” he mumbles as his lips skitter across my neck.

  This feels like a fork in the road moment. My heart pounds against my chest. Thump, thump, thumping as hard as it can. While my mind debates, I hear myself breathe, “No.”

  Five

  Sergey

  Galina's head rests on my shoulder. Her leg is thrown over my hips and her fingers have tangled themselves with my necklace, my wedding band nestled in her grasp. She fell asleep pretty soon after our tangle in the sheets. I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not. Either she was so satisfied she passed out or she has a sudden feeling of regret and she decided sleep was the best route. Her body betrayed her while she slept, though.

  This seems like a good sign, but with Galina, who knows. She stirs slightly, enough that I think she's awake now. I have no idea what to say, so I remain silent.

  “Will they be upset that we didn't go back to the party?” she asks after what seems like forever.

  “That's what you're thinking about right now?” I can't help but chuckle. Of all the things I thought she would say, that wasn't one of them.

  Galina shrugs. “I feel like we're living in a bubble this very second and it'll burst soon.” She pauses and quietly adds, “I don't think I want it to.”

  “Now you like me?” I tease.

  “I like you enough,” she agrees. She’s quiet for a moment before she adds, “That was never the issue.” That I already knew. Galina sighs. “Part of me thinks if we do manage to make it work, it will be worse than if we divorce. My parents will likely swoop back in and overwhelm me, demanding a baby again. I just want peace. Why is that too much to ask?”

  She sounds exhausted and sad. It's as if no matter which path she takes, she's expecting negative results. As if her life is doomed and she loses either way.

  The words coming out of my mouth go against every fiber of my being, but so be it. “Stop talking to them. Our parents. Ignore them, tell me, and I'll be the go-between. No matter what happens, I will always be your ally. Let me deal with those battles.”

  “Maybe that will work.” She doesn't sound like she has any faith that it will, but that isn't surprising for how negative her outlook can be. I'll take it.

  Something has been weighing on my mind since earlier today, and hoping she'll tell me, I ask, “What did Sylvia say to you?”

  Without any hesitation, she says, “She told me she knew who I was and that you were a good man. She basically thinks something is wrong with me because I didn't want to be with you, and that if I can't see what's right in front of me, then you should run far away from me.”

  That's a bit harsh. Sylvia doesn't know enough about Galina or our background to be so forthcoming with her thoughts.

  Galina surprises the hell out of me by continuing with, “She's right, though.” Her fingers finally release from my necklace. “I'm not saying I'm in love with you or anything, but,” she props herself up on her elbow, “I've been so angry with our parents and I lumped you in with them when I shouldn't have. We enjoyed ourselves when we spent time together before, but...” She shakes her head, seemingly at a loss for words.

  “It was tainted by us getting married,” I finish.

  She nods, a sad smile on her face. For the first time in years, I actually feel hopeful. This is the most progress we've ever made and it's something. It doesn't have to be all or nothing with us, I realize. Right now, all or something works. She's giving me something. We can work on the all part later.

  “We can stay in our bubble for as long as you'd like,” I tell her.

  The smile Galina gives me rocks the very core of my being. The warmth of her body pressed against me with all of the hills and valleys is suddenly impossible to ignore. Taking a chance, I grab her thigh and pull her on top of me. Her eyebrow lifts.

  “Our bubble requires years of catching up, physically and otherwise.”