The Trouble with #9 by Piper Rayne
Istand at the baggage claim with Nadiya. It’s been two weeks since I last saw Paisley and I’m pissed off about it. I took her advice and called the guy on the card she left me. After only two visits, I’m feeling a little better, a little more myself. He said the fact that I admitted I was having problems dealing with the past was a great start.
“So where’s Jessie?” I ask.
“I’m telling them first. I’m going to introduce them to her tonight if things go well.”
Nadiya came to me last night and said she’s going to tell her family about Jessie. She doesn’t want to marry me just for a chance to stay here longer. I told her that was good because I couldn’t have married her anyway, no matter how much I wish I could make the situation right for her. So we’re going to a very public place to discuss this with our parents so they can’t flip out on us.
Just then, our four parents come down the escalator, our moms laughing and our dads complaining about the custom lines, I’m sure. I can tell that Nadiya is nervous, so I take her hand and give it a quick squeeze. They spot us, and our moms have their arms open, walking toward us.
“Nashi detki!” they say.
I hug my mom, then we switch. I shake both of our dads’ hands.
“You too thin, Nadiya,” her mom says.
“Yes, too thin. You should feed her.” My mom elbows me.
I shake my head. “She eats fine, Mama.”
We get their baggage and climb into the SUV I rented for them to use while they’re here.
“Oh, nice car, Maksim,” Nadiya’s mom says.
“It’s just a rental.”
“He drives a fancy sports car,” Nadiya says.
My dad presses buttons on the dashboard. “Too hot. Make it colder.”
I adjust the air conditioning, but when he figures out what to press, he turns it to max and high. I’m gonna freeze my nuts off.
“We’re going to eat,” I say to the group.
“Oh no, I cook you good Russian dinner,” my mama says. “I brought all the stuff we need from the Russia in my suitcase.”
I shake my head. She’s lucky the guys in customs didn’t know that. “We want to take you out.”
“You don’t want home cook meal from me?” My mama sounds as if she’s on the verge of tears.
“Later. You’re here for three weeks.” How will I ever get through three weeks?
“Fine, but then we go to your house?” she asks.
“Da. We have big surprise,” Nadiya’s mom says.
“What is it?” Nadiya asks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
Both moms snicker, but they can’t keep it in.
“I brought my wedding dress,” Nadiya’s mom says.
“How long until the restaurant?” Nadiya asks, sounding a little panicked.
I stop at a red light. “Fifteen minutes.”
“We think instead of you coming back to Russia to get married, you marry here. Maksim, you can pull strings so it happens while we’re here, right?”
“Sure, I know everyone in the government. I’m sure they’ll bend the rules for me.” I roll my eyes as Nadiya stares out the window.
I valet at the restaurant, which my parents think is ridiculous.
“We healthy. We can walk,” my dad says.
“You mean your legs aren’t freezing? Because I can barely walk.” I shiver from driving in a deep freezer the entire way here. I tip the driver and take my number. “It’s easier this way.”
We sit at the reserved table in a seafood restaurant. I’m thankful we have some people around us who will hopefully keep our parents in check when we tell them the news about our plan not to marry. I feel bad for Nadiya. I’m not sure how her parents will take the fact that she’s a lesbian. But I know they love their daughter, so my hopes are high.
We order drinks and appetizers, but I’m told those will just make me full, so I end up canceling them although I really wanted to try that crab cake.
“How you both doing?” my dad asks while checking prices on the menu. He’s adding up what this will cost, I’m sure.
“I got the bill,” I tell him. “Order whatever you want.”
“You need to save your money,” Mama says. “For babies.” She looks at Nadiya as though she’s hoping there’s a baby in there already.
Why are they acting as if we’ve fallen in love?
“You do understand that I don’t love Nadiya in a romantic way, right?” The sentence leaves my mouth without me thinking it through. I think it’s because I want to stick up for Paisley even though she’s not part of my life right now.
“What?” Her mom leans back in her chair, looking affronted.
“We’re friends. If we marry—spoiler alert: probably not going to happen—we’re not in love, which means we’re not going to sleep together, which means no babies.”
Both our mamas frown and look at one another. I can see they’ve been planning this for months without our input. I glance at Nadiya because she needs to finish this, but she says nothing.
All four sets of eyes are on us as though they don’t understand.
“Maksim is in love with someone else!” Nadiya says, and they all gasp.
“And so is Nadiya!” I say back like true siblings.
They all gasp again.
The waiter comes over and I shake my head for him to come back.
“You in love?” my mama asks.
“He blew it though, Inessa.” Nadiya opens up her fat mouth.
“You in love too?” her mama asks, and Nadiya nods. She pats Nadiya’s hand. “Then you marry him. He American citizen?”
I disregard my mama’s stare and look at Nadiya. Reaching under the table, I grab her hand and squeeze. If Nadiya wants to lie and make up a story about some man in her life, I’ll go with it. I’m here to support her whether she’s ready to come out to her family or not.
“I’m in love with a woman, Mama,” she says quietly.
“Oh.” Her mom slides back in her seat.
The table is quiet for a minute, so I jump in. “She’s really great. Her name is Jessie and she loves Nadiya so much. They’re a great couple.”
“What did she say? Woman?” her dad asks.
Her mom nods. “You’re a lesbian?”
Nadiya nods. “Yeah, Mama.”
Her mom and dad look at one another, almost having a silent conversation between them, then her mom grabs Nadiya’s hand. “Is she citizen?”
Nadiya chuckles. “Mama, I’m not going to marry her.”
But as she says that, Jessie comes toward the table with flowers in her hand.
This is why she wanted to know where I made reservations. I smile at Jessie. Way to go.
Nadiya tears up, and our parents watch as Jessie falls to her knee, opens up a ring box and asks Nadiya to be her wife. I release her hand from under the table. Nadiya slides out, falling to the floor, and accepts through her tears.
Our parents are looking around as if they’re just barely understanding what’s happening.
“This is Jessie.” Nadiya holds Jessie’s hand and presents her to the table.
Jessie hands the flowers to Nadiya’s mom.
My dad looks up from the menu and looks at my mom. “Who she?”
“Nadiya’s fiancée.” My mama smiles.
It’s then I take an easy breath for the first time in a long time. I’m no longer responsible for Nadiya. The weight I’ve been carrying around lifts from my shoulders, and I feel lighter than I have in years.
After my parents are comfortable at my house and Jessie and Nadiya are talking wedding plans, I say I have to run out for an errand, but I drive by Paisley’s office.
Her light is on, and I sit in the dark SUV she’s not familiar with and watch her like a creepy Peeping Tom. Her hair is pinned up and she looks as if she’s closing up for the day. My body yearns to go to her. It’s begging to feel her under me, to be buried deep inside her softness. I miss the way she hugged me or just rested her forehead on mine and said hello as though it was the best part of her day.
She comes out of the building and glances over. Our eyes lock for a moment. She lifts her finger and puts her stuff in her car, then she crosses traffic and comes to my side of the car on the curb.
“I saw Instagram. Please tell Nadiya and Jessie I say congratulations.”
“It was kind of crazy. Jessie’s got a set of nonexistent balls, that’s for sure.”
She laughs and it’s like a knife in the chest because I miss that sound.
“I guess you’re off the hook, huh?” She smiles, but not in a relieved way. She looks genuinely happy for me.
I nod. Did two weeks apart really get us to acting as if we’re acquaintances? As if we’ve only ever been friends and not each other’s everything at one point?
“Yeah. And it felt good. To know that I’m not responsible for her.”
Her hand runs down my forearm. “You never were. I have to get going, but please tell them both congratulations from me. I’ll send a gift.”
I nod. “I’ll tell them.”
“You look good, Maksim,” she says, her dimples showing.
“So do you.” I want to say so much more, but I’m only two weeks into therapy. Hardly long enough that she’d think it had made a difference.
She crosses the street, slides into her car, and gives me one last wave before she drives off. I sit there and wait for her taillights to disappear, wishing like hell she was right next to me.
