Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Thoughts of this place basically being home and his family treating me more like the woman in his life for love versus the woman simply here to assist in it has my mouth lowering to resume my original interrogation. “I wasn’t talking about the food-”
“Were you asking about my gold garland boa?” Ig playfully inquires as he throws one end over his shoulder to further display the look. “’Cause Bella put this shit on me when my parents got here to help decorate.”
“Seriously, Ig?” There’s no stopping my hands from falling disapprovingly to my jean covered hips. “You couldn’t handle being alone with your daughter for two hours?”
“Chetyre,” he corrects the number to four in Russian. “And despite the demon that was trying to escape her when you left…da. Of course, I could handle QT with her. It’s just that once I realized those two boxes were the only two boxes of Christmas decorations I actually had, I called my mom to ask about where to get more. She said she’d bring some over for the assist and then Father offered to grill us Shashlik for dinner – Russian of course – since he had more than enough to go around. I figured you wouldn’t mind not cooking.”
“Truth.”
“Plus, I figured we’d grill some zucchini spears – ensuring Bella sees more green than yellow – have some red cabbage slaw – which I just finished making – and then try that shit Bella’s therapist said about leaving the aversion food in between the two colorful dishes for trying. We do need to remind my parents not to pressure her about the shit – like they did in front of everyone at Thanksgiving putting an epic goose egg on the board for the holiday – but I’m all about tryin’ to get us more dubs than Ls, aye? I don’t want us to start moving completely backwards when we’ve finally began moving forward.”
His thoughtful line of rationalizing has me unreluctantly nodding.
Beaming proudly.
Damn near abandoning my need to know whatever it is I don’t know in this situation.
But I can’t do that.
Because the only way we even stand a chance at moving forward…moving past whatever lies he spewed to get me here or keep me here…is by getting them all out.
Now.
“I um…” my arms move to fold across my chest, “assume she’s outside with them now?”
“She’s playing in her princess castle tent. Telling Father how she’s gonna ask Santa for a real castle this year.”
“Meaning you need me to help find the safest and most recommended outdoor play castle area to rush order to replace the little wooden cabin you currently have?”
“See.” Ig gives the back of my forearm a playful tap. “You’ve always got me on the assist.”
Ignoring the tug of war between dread and desire increases in difficulty. “Igor, I need you to give me the assist on something.”
“Is it sweepin’ up the Cheetos? ‘Cause honestly? Consider that shit already doneskies, baby.”
“I have no idea how we met.”
His gray t-shirt covered chest noticeably tightens. “Okay.”
“No idea how I got this job.”
The sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing so slowly has fear winning the war.
“Why I took this job.”
He not so casually angles his frame to allow it to rest on the nearby island.
“I have no records or information of the process and neither does Berks – who apparently records a CIA level amount of information about my life for when episodes occur – but you do. You know the truth. And I need the assist on knowing what that is.” It’s damn near impossible to keep my voice from shaking. “I was never supposed to be Bella’s nanny, was I?”
Rather than answer, he firmly presses his lips together.
Keeps his gaze fixated on mine yet says nothing.
His commitment to silence spurs me to harshly snip, “Answer. Me.”
“Ya ne mogu.”
“What the fuck do you mean you can’t?!” My hands fly into the air out of frustration. “Why can’t you?!”
“I don’t know how, Joeski.”
“What?!”
Regardless of a wince, he proceeds to answer, “Do I believe you were supposed to be in my life? In Bella’s?” He bends his arms to grip the edge of the counter. “Hundy P?” Igor leans defiantly forward. “Da.”
There’s no stopping my shoulders from melting to my fuzzy boot covered feet.
“Therefore, the answer to your question, as far as I’m concerned, is yes. Yes, you were absolutely supposed to be Bella’s nanny. That’s why you came into our lives when you did. How you did. But,” my boss releases an obviously exasperated sigh, “if you’re asking did you ever actually search, apply, and interview for the gig, the answer is no.”
The mixture of indignation and consternation has me giving my curls a one-handed ruffle. “What. The. Fuck. Exactly. Happened. Igor?” Before his mouth can even twitch to answer, I point a stern finger at him. “And you give me the absolute, ugly sweater fucking truth or I’m marching up the stairs, packing my shit, and ejecting myself from the game of your lives without a review of the play.”