In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(50)

“I’m sorry,” Lauren apologized, not exactly sure what she was apologizing for. “She was fine a few minutes ago, excited to meet you even. I…uh, give me a sec.”

Lauren joined Susan in the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher from the top cabinet to put the flowers in. When she finished, she just caught sight of Susan murdering a potato. “Mom?”

Susan didn’t seem to hear her at first, her focus entirely on her task. Only the second time, after Lauren raised her voice, did she finally look up.

“Yes?”

Lauren’s brow furrowed as she gestured back to the living room where Mishca was still waiting. She kept her voice low. “What was that?”

She looked back to the sink. “What do you mean?” She wouldn’t meet Lauren’s gaze because she knew that Lauren would be able to see the truth in her expression. It was what made them terrible liars.

Lauren paled. “Please don’t tell me you two had an affair. Besides the fact that I’m dating him, that would just be gross. What would Ross say?”

That was enough to break up the tension in the room as Susan laughed. “No. I told you, you said his name once. I can’t help it if you have bad memory. Now, tell him to come help set the table. I’m just about finished.”

But Lauren couldn’t just walk away. There was more to this than Susan was letting on, and she was positive she never mentioned Mishca by name.

“Mom, is there something wrong? You can tell me.”

Susan sighed, wrapping Lauren in a hug. “I just wish your father were here.”

Understanding dawned on Lauren as she returned the affection. “I’m sure he’s looking down on us now. Do you think he would have approved of him?”

Susan chuckled, tears swimming in her eyes. “For his precious little girl, of course not, but you never know. He might have liked him, I guess we’ll have to see at dinner. Now let me finish so we can eat.”

***

Lauren set the table of three with Mishca’s help, carrying in the dishes to place in the middle of the table. Mishca was uncharacteristically silent, lost in his thoughts while following her direction. She tried not to think too much into their odd behavior, chalking it up to nerves, but a small part of her was reluctant to let it go.

As they were seated, Susan sat at the head of the table, Lauren and Mishca sitting next to one another. They held hands as Susan said grace.

“Thank you for the food we are about to receive. I know that Lauren’s father,” —Mishca’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around Lauren’s— “but not nearly as proud as I am of everything that she has accomplished. Amen.”

It seemed like this dinner was going from bad to worse. As the bowls were passed around the table, everyone filling their plates, nobody said a word. It was like a dark cloud was hanging over them, sucking all the joy out of the room.

“I can’t take it,” Lauren said. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Lauren—”

“I wager my reputation precedes me,” Mishca cut in with a self-deprecating smile though his eyes were still hard. “You’re the first person not to even know my name.”

“But my mom has,” she asked dryly, “in Michigan?”

He shrugged. “It happens.”

“I only want what’s best for you, Lauren.”

“Then by all means, ask me of my intentions.”

Susan cleared her throat, sitting up straight. “What do you want from my daughter?”

“Her company. I like to think she makes me a better person.”

“And what of your family? How do they feel about this relationship?”

Lauren was missing something important, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. “I haven’t met his family yet.”

“Speaking of, they’ve invited Lauren over for Christmas break, if she’s not spending it with you.”

“No—”

“Yes,” Susan said with a definitive nod. “She is.”

“The break is like three weeks, mom. I can spend half with you and had with Mishca.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?” Susan asked, her eyes haunted as she stared at her only daughter.

The fear she saw there gave Lauren pause. “But I want to go. I want to meet them.”

When she couldn’t think of another argument, Susan grew silent. Lauren could tell she wanted to say something more, but she clearly didn’t want to push the subject because she knew it wouldn’t help.

The stubbornness she had inherited.

“If you’ll excuse me for a minute,” Lauren said looking to both of them, going into her bedroom to grab her phone. Maybe in her absence, they could talk this out, whatever it was.

***

Mishca wiped his mouth with the napkin, setting it down on the table as he turned his attention to Susan. She was waiting, he knew, until Lauren wouldn’t be able to hear them.

When he first saw her, he didn’t immediately recognize her, hundreds of people walked in and out of his life everyday, but when she said his name with such obvious contempt, he knew immediately. It wasn’t as simple to say that she was Doc’s wife, that wasn’t how he knew her.

He had met her.

It was a cool autumn night, Mishca was getting his arm stitched up after an accident on the playground. Luckily, Doc was in town for a few days and was able to meet them at the manor. It had only taken a few minutes, fifteen stitches in all, but in those fifteen minutes, a conundrum arose.