Page 74 of Saving Forever
“Mama, not now,” Viktor says quietly. “When the season is over, we can discuss.”
My heart sinks.
After the day we had, and everything we talked about, I thought he would tell her we’re not moving back to Russia. Or at least that it was a long way off and we didn’t have a plan. But that isn’t what he said. His only concern is getting through hockey season. Then he’s willing to talk about it.
I glance over at his profile and he’s perfectly calm, like discussing a wedding in Russia is perfectly reasonable as long as we don’t make any firm plans until hockey season is over.
This is probably my fault for getting my hopes up. He never made any promises either way and I should have known better.
I’m used to the men in my life letting me down—I just didn’t think Viktor would be one of them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Viktor
Dinner is long and boring.
Not because I only understand about three-quarters of what Holly’s parents are saying. Not because I have to spend a great deal of time translating for my parents. Certainly not because the food isn’t good.
Mostly, it’s because Nathan is still here and something is bothering Holly. I can’t tell what it is, and she demurred when I tried to ask her, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. The tightness in her expression. Even the way her hand feels limp in mine. Like holding my hand requires more energy than she has left.
Her father is a pompous ass who loves to hear himself talk, so I can understand why she doesn’t enjoy coming over. Nathan is even more of an ass, telling jokes no one gets and laughing a little too loud at Mr. Grant’s stories.
My father isn’t impressed at all. I can tell by the sour expression on his face. Aunt Irina is probably thanking her lucky stars that her English is limited to “thank you,” “please,” “no English.” My mother seems to be getting along with Mrs. Grant but they don’t have an opportunity to get a word in edgewise, and Holly hasn’t said a word since we sat down to eat.
Once it’s over, she quickly gets up to help her mother clear the table and Mr. Grant and Nathan excuse themselves for a moment.
My mother looks at me and speaks in Russian. “Is it my fault?”
“Is what your fault?” I ask in confusion.
“Holly is upset. Is it because I spoke of an Orthodox wedding?”
I didn’t consider that. Is that why she’s upset? I don’t think so. We’ve honestly never specifically discussed religion, but I know she’s not religious. Neither am I. Anything we do at the church is for the benefit of my parents. But maybe Holly doesn’t understand that. Maybe she thinks I’m going to push my religion on her—even though I don’t practice—without even asking what her beliefs are.
Dammit.
There just aren’t enough hours in the day right now.
Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock we have the closing on the house and then I have to go to a morning skate and prepare for game one of the championship. I won’t have time to properly flesh this out.
“I don’t think it’s to do with you,” I tell my mother. “I think it’s more the fact that her father invited her ex-fiancé to dinner with some sort of plan to expose us for not being legally married or whatever other scheme he might have in mind. I’m not sure exactly, but I anticipated that, which is why I brought the marriage certificate.”
My mother looks toward the kitchen. “I have not seen her so quiet since we met. I’m worried.”
That catches me off-guard.
I didn’t think my mother even liked her much less cared enough to worry about her.
“You don’t even like her,” I point out, opting to see what she’ll say.
“I never said I didn’t like her. In fact, she’s lovely. I simply don’t like her for you. That’s not the same thing. And I would never go out of my way to hurt her feelings, especially not here in her parents’ home, where they were kind enough to host us for the evening.”
“Well, whether you like her or not, I like her,” I say quietly. “Very much. So, please stop talking about weddings in Russia and those sorts of things until the series is over and she and I have a chance to sit down and talk about what’s next. These are going to be the most important games of my career. Frankly, I don’t need the extra pressure.”
“I’m sorry.” My mother actually looks contrite, which is so unlike her I’m not sure what to do with it.
And she called Holly lovely.
