by Haven Rose
“He’s Russian.”
“Yeah,” Junie agrees, her tone clearly implying the duh part.
“And I’m not.”
“I’m not English, but that isn’t Milo’s fault.” When I glance at her, she shrugs, but doesn’t back down from her comparison. “Sounds silly, doesn’t it?”
“Yes and no,” I admit. “His whole family, even those who married in, have it somewhere in their ancestry. I don’t.”
“Okay,” she says, not seeing where I’m going with this.
“I’ve never felt as if I fit one specific label because I’m different.”
“Good,” Junie states, no hesitation in her response.
“Are you insane? You more than anyone else knows what I endured.”
“I do,” she reminds me, “and that is all on them. Not. You.”
“But…”
“If those kids,” she stops when I start to interrupt, then does it herself, knowing what I was going to say, “and some of their parents, weren’t elitist snobs scared of anyone that didn’t fit their version of the world, we would’ve never met.”
“True.”
“Which means you wouldn’t have dragged me to that party last year.”
“And I wouldn’t have my wife, and that would be a tragedy,” Milo chimes in, having so quietly joined us I didn’t realize he was there. Junie did, though. They’re so attuned to each other they can feel when the other gets close.
“I’m already the outsider, unlike everyone else in his family, and I haven’t even met them yet. What if they don’t like me for him?”
“They won’t,” Milo nonchalantly throws in, making Junie smack his arm as she hisses at him through gritted teeth that he isn’t helping. He grabs a tissue from the box on the table in front of me, then waves it in surrender. “Let me finish, then you can decide if you want to kick my ass.” We both nod, but we’re side-eyeing him. “I was going to say they’ll adore you and think you’re perfect for him.”
“You sound so sure,” I state, hope rising within my heart because Micah and Milo have been friends for decades, meaning he knows Micah’s family almost as well as he does his own.
“I am.”
“But what if he has to choose between me and them?” I ask, thinking about the decision forced upon my parents.
“History doesn’t always repeat itself, Val.”
“You didn’t say never.”
“I did not because life doesn’t come with absolutes like that. I can tell you this, Micah loves you, so the Kamenevs instantly will, too.”
“They don’t even know me.”
He shakes his head, appearing sad for me. “They do. I can guarantee he has told them all about you, just as you shared him with your dad, mom, and brothers.” He’s not wrong. The difference is Micah has met my loved ones and I’ve been too scared to do the same.
“Sweetie,” Junie pipes in, taking my hand in hers, “I know what your grandparents did scarred you, but you can’t let them have that power over you for the rest of your life. That’s letting them win, and they don’t deserve that.”
“Okay, say I believe you, Milo, and I meet them. What if you aren’t right and they give him an ultimatum?”
“This is a moot conversation because it will never happen, but I’ll appease your curiosity by answering. If the world suddenly becomes the opposite of everything I’ve ever known it to be, Micah would walk away, you at his side, in a heartbeat and not look back.”
“Then he’d resent me for keeping him from his family.”
“He’d hate to lose them, but he wouldn’t regret it because he knows you’re worth it, that what the two of you have now and in the future will be as well.” He can tell I’m leaning toward accepting his confidence, but I still have some doubts. “I can’t promise others won’t have issues because there are some ignorant people, but I’m sure those may be more in regards to who Micah is, not what either of you are.” That makes no sense until my mind sends me mental images, things I logged yet never paid attention to whenever we were out. Strangers appearing scared of him while others were almost in awe. I can’t help but wonder why that is. I stay a bit longer, my talk with them helping, but I decide to visit my parents before I go home. Mom isn’t there when I arrive, so Dad and I chat. Always attuned to my moods due to his innate Dad-ing power, he waits patiently for me to tell him what’s wrong.
“If you could go back, would you do anything differently?”
“Well, I would’ve listened to your mom and thrown out the leftovers when she suggested it the other day.” Then he grimaces, adding, “She wasn’t that sympathetic to my suffering.”
Of course, that’s when Mom walks in, overhears him, and states, “Because you acted like you were on your death bad.” She hugs me and mock whispers, “He’s such a baby when he’s sick.”
“Your baby,” he retorts, and I groan.
“Daughter in the room.” They laugh, and agree to behave. I see the look they exchange, though, and remind myself to not leave anything behind because the second I get in my car, they’re going to pounce and I do not want to have to come back in.
But watching their exchange, seeing how happy they are, how much in love, I get my answer. They refused to let anything stop them from getting their forever, and they had true obstacles in their path, but here I am creating issues. Micah is wonderful, and from the way he talks about his family, they are, too. I let my own hang-ups impact how I viewed them. That makes me almost as bad as my grandparents, which is a bitter pill to swallow.
Chapter Twelve
Micah
March 18th…
“Moy vozdukh,” I whisper as I leave her yet another voicemail, “I can’t breathe without you. I don’t want to.” I may be speaking into my cell, but I’m also standing outside her place, my forehead resting on her door like a lovesick fool. I don’t know what happened, and she won’t answer any attempt to contact her. I even tried to see her at the shop, but she thwarted me there, too. Her older brother, Phillip, informing me she was sick, his tone and gaze accusatory.
Did she learn about my family before I could tell her? I’d tried numerous times, but never followed through for different reasons, and not all due to my chickening out. If those who tremble at the name Kamenev could see me now they’d laugh in my face, then try to take over everything that belongs to us.
When I hear the knob turning, I straighten, ready to obliterate whatever is bothering her. “You don’t have to,” she reassures me, then lets me wrap her in my arms and hold her. I know this doesn’t fix anything, but it’s a damn good start.
Once we’re sitting on her couch, memories of that first night surface and my body reacts, but I force it to behave. Now is for talking. When she starts to speak, I ask if I can go first, needing to tell her what I do. “About my family,” I begin, as if there’s a way to ease her into knowing her future in-laws, if I get my way, pick and choose which laws to follow. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”
“I don’t listen to gossip. It’s hurtful and almost always untrue.” She’d told me the story of her parents, the impact it had on her and her brothers – though not as hard on the boys for some reason – growing up, so I know where that resolve comes from.
“In regards to our business, all of it probably is the truth. That’s not to say some isn’t exaggerated while parts are understated.” She’s watching me, but hasn’t let go of my hand. I’m literally holding on to that as a sign. I explain how it started, and that while we do not sell drugs, we do unsavory things according to law enforcement and many others.
“Do you…?” Interpreting what she’s asking without putting voice to it, I inform her we can be ruthless when we need to be, though it’s usually when that person has hurt another. She disagrees, saying that’s not her definition of it. “That is what my mom’s parents did to her because she fell in love with my dad. You are righting wrongs.”
“Sweetheart, that isn’t all we do. Please don’t glamorize
it to make yourself feel better about being with me.”
“You exist in a gray area; nothing is black and white.”
“It’s as good a description as any.”
“Did you know there used to be protestors outside our store?”
“You sell candy for fuck sake.”
“We do, and there were some who blamed us for their health and/or dental issues, stating if we weren’t there, they wouldn’t have them.”
“That’s ridiculous. You didn’t force anyone to buy the stuff.” She grins, and I can’t resist telling her, “Well played.”
“I thought so,” she agrees smugly. “And you may offer them a place to gamble, but you don’t force them to. Nor to borrow money or anything else that results in their path crossing with yours. They make those choices; you simply react to them.”
“But…”
She cuts me off with a glare, then looks at me, saying, “I’m starting to think you’re now the one searching for a reason not to be together.” I latch on to that.
“As in you were before? Is that why you ghosted me?”
“I’m sorry,” she confesses. “That gray area I mentioned? I’ve lived in it my whole life. I am a mix of my parents, and there are those that have a problem with that. As if you can choose whom you love.” That pisses me off, knowing they had to pay for the prejudices of others simply because they wanted to build a life together. “Ironically, it was worse when I was younger. You’d think children would be more accepting, and they usually are, but they also mirror their parents, and some believed I “tainted the pristineness” of their school.” The fact she attached quotation marks to those words tells me they were actually used in front of her.
Reaching in my pocket, I pull out a small notebook I usually keep on me, preferring the old school feel of paper as opposed to typing it on my phone. Plus, I can burn paper, electronics can’t always be erased. A fact my computer genius cousin, Pyotr, made sure we all knew. I hand it and a pen to her. She asks me what she’s supposed to do with it, and, no longer afraid she’ll distance herself because of what I do, I bluntly tell her, “I need names. Who the fuck treated you as if you were less than the queen you are?”
“Micah,” she gushes, no fear in her eyes as she stares at me, “you can’t do that.”
“Bet me.”
“They aren’t worth it.”
“But you are.”
**Valentina**
“I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t talk about my woman like that,” he orders me.
“I was, though. Aside from with my family and Junie, I’ve felt like I was an outsider, never quite fitting under one specific label. I always used that as an excuse to not get involved in a relationship, but that wasn’t it at all. Before I met you, I realized it was because I doubted I could love a man as my mom does my dad, and vice versa. Then you came to the store, and I knew I was wrong. I was all in the second I saw you.”
“Then what happened?”
“I’m not Russian.”
“No, you aren’t. Still not seeing the problem, Valentina.”
“Which means I once more don’t fit in. I worried they’d make you choose, and if I was your decision, you’d start resenting me, and then..” I could go on, but he suddenly leans forward and kisses me, effectively stopping the words pouring out of me.
“Are you saying I can’t love you because you aren’t?”
I’m speechless. My mouth is open, but the ability to speak, to form words, no longer exists in my brain. It’s as if I never learned how. When I remember, my voice is nothing more than a squeak. “You love me?”
He doesn’t answer, but he does drop to his knee before me. My left hand is already in his, and he uses his free one to dip inside his pants. I’m not sure what’s going on until the light hits just right and the gem on my finger sparkles. Micah doesn’t even propose, nothing about our courtship being traditional, my agreement to be his wife is a given in his opinion.
And he’s right. To deny him would be refusing what my heart wants most.
Chapter Thirteen
Valentina
March 21st…
I’m meeting his family in a few hours, and while that would’ve terrified me not that long ago, the only thing I feel now is anticipation. Before Micah had come over that day, I’d been rushing around, preparing to go to his house and tell him I love him. That I was sorry for getting lost in my own head and fears. Being the sweet man, and yes, I know many would disagree with that sentiment, he let me explain and understood why I was so scared.
“Love,” he whispers in my ear, his arm wrapping tighter around my middle, “I say we stay in bed as long as possible.”
“We might get hungry,” I remind him, though food is the last thing on my mind.
“I already am,” he warns me, then shifts me to my back and slides between my legs. His warm breath skates over my clit, sending shivers coursing through me, and my body immediately begins preparing for his invasion. “What should I do first?” He asks teasingly as he slowly runs his tongue across his bottom lip.
“Me?” I answer helpfully, making him chuckle.
“Such a good girl you are, volunteering like that. I think that deserves a reward.” All I can do is nod, followed by a moan as he licks my center, the tip of his tongue parting my folds enough to let me know he’s there…and just getting started.
He’s relentless in his pleasure, driving me up and over the edge twice, and that’s only with his mouth. By the time he slides inside me, I’m begging for more, knowing I won’t be fully satisfied until he takes me this way. Not long after that night on the couch we’d decided to stop using condoms, choosing instead for me to begin taking the shots. Neither of us are ready for children yet, but the thought of him taking me with nothing between us was something we wanted, never having experienced it, nor wanted to, before with anyone else. We’d waited a few weeks until it was officially effective, and the first coupling was fast and hard, both unable to last due to how good it felt.
“Fuck,” he groans. “This snug pussy is heaven and hell.” My breasts bounce against his chest from the force of his thrust. “Heaven because this need to always feel it surrounding my dick may very well kill me one day. Hell as I can never last as long as I want to once I’m in it.”
“You don’t need to. We have our whole lives to do this.” His pace becomes frenzied, my words, the acknowledgement I’m not going anywhere, leaving him unable to control himself.
Thank god. Within minutes I’m screaming his name as my release rips me apart and seals me back together as his own warms me from the inside out.
**Micah**
My eyes haven’t veered from my fiancée since we walked into my deda and baba’s hours ago. Everyone made her feel welcome and instantly fell in love with her, as I knew they would. I never doubted they’d see how perfect she is for me, but I know she needed to experience it.
What her parents went through left scars on her heart and impacted her ability to trust, despite the fact it occurred before she was even born. Then again, knowing your own blood chose not to be a part of your life without even giving you a chance is tough to accept. It’s their loss, in my opinion, but that doesn’t stop my Valentina from feeling it, too.
I’m tempted to pay them a visit, or let Pyotr deal with them electronically. Pain isn’t always a physical reaction, and I have a feeling what he could do to the likes of them would have a far greater impact than my usual tactics ever would. It’s an idea I’m keeping in my back pocket, just in case.
Baba is currently smiling, which serves as a warning for those in her path. When she zones in on Pyotr, a collective sigh of relief can be heard throughout the room. She wags her finger in the air, effectively taking in everyone, and tells them their time is coming. They act as if they’re scared, and they might be because you never know with her, but they won’t hesitate to help in whatever way they can.
“Next month, I need you.”
“Okay,
Baba,” he automatically says without question.
“You don’t want to know why?”
“Don’t need to. I’ll do it.”
“What a good boy. You’re my favorite Pyotr,” she informs him.
Of course, he’s the only one she knows, but he tells her, “I am pretty awesome.”
She pats his hand, neither agreeing nor disagreeing which makes me laugh, and informs him, “The Brands usually take care of the Easter decorations, but he’s still not feeling his usual self, and she has her hands full with that, so I offered our services. They don’t need to worry about that, and the children mustn’t miss out.” She drops that, then spots Tatiana, and excuses herself, declaring, “She’s next on my list.”
Tatty has been going to their house pretty regularly since Mr. Brand got sick a few months ago, handling errands so Mrs. Brand didn’t run herself ragged, preparing a week’s worth of meals in advance at a time, and so much more. My cousin is young, but she’s mature for her age, and has always had a big heart, willing to give a stranger her last dollar if needed.
The Brands’ children, now grown men and women, have been coming and going as their schedules allow, taking turns staying for extended periods. They’re a close family, and I wouldn’t be surprised if those who no longer live close move home soon, their dad’s illness a sign of how unpredictable life can be.
Epilogue One - Valentina
Five years later…
“It’s time,” I tell Micah, who instantly jerks awake, though he’d been in such a deep sleep just a second before. I swear, I could whisper from across town and the man would still know. When it involves me, there is nothing that will keep him from me. Case in point when we arrive at the hospital and they try to stop him from abandoning the car to race me in. I know he isn’t leaving my side, and I feel bad for anyone that attempts to make him.