Page 122 of Notes About Vodka

In that moment, I know that no matter what the future holds, it won’t be easy. But I also know that as long as we keep fighting for each other, we’ll find a way. And that’s all I need.

Over the next few days, things are tense between us. Val and I tiptoe around the subject, both of us afraid of saying the wrong thing and making the other upset. It’s like we’re walking on eggshells, trying to find the right balance between supporting each other’s dreams and staying together. But slowly, we start to talk more—reallytalk.

We sit on the couch late at night, the TV playing softly in the background, and we share our fears and our hopes for the future.

Val tells me how scared he is of being left behind, of me moving on without him. I tell him how terrified I am of letting go of my dreams, of not giving myself the chance to achieve everything I’ve worked so hard for. We cry, we laugh, we hold each other, and little by little, we find our way back to each other. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and it’s ours.

One evening, as we sit on the balcony, the city lightstwinkling around us, Val takes my hand. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, his voice steady. “We can make Chicago work. It’ll be hard, but I don’t want to hold you back. I want you to follow your dreams, Laura. And I’ll be right here, cheering you on.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Val. I promise I’ll make it worth it. For both of us.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

VAL

"They say marriage is like fine vodka: it’s an acquired taste, but once you find the right one, it goes down easy."

Laura and I stand at the edge of the cliff where we will be married in two days.

The ocean stretches out endlessly before us, the sun slowly dipping into the horizon, painting the sky with shades of pink, orange, and lavender. It’s beautiful, everything we had envisioned for this moment, but I can’t seem to shake the ache that’s settled deep in my chest.

My mother isn’t coming.

She’s not going to be at my wedding.

The disappointment is overwhelming, a hollow ache that seems to grow deeper with every passing moment. It feels like a piece of me is missing, leaving behind a painful void that nothing can fill.

She was denied a travel visa.

All the plans, the calls, the efforts—none of it was enough to get her here. And it’s like something’s broken inside me, a piece that’s missing from what should be the happiest moment of my life. I’ve waited so long for this, for family to gather and witness what Laura and I have built together, and now there’s a gaping hole.

Laura stands beside me, her hand gently slipping into mine. She knows, even without words, the storm brewing inside me. She can see it in the way my shoulders are tense, my eyes distant. Laura knows the weight of disappointment and longing I carry right now, the way it feels like something essential is missing. Her gentle touch tells me she understands, and her presence is her way of saying she’s here to share that burden. She doesn’t push me to talk, doesn’t try to force the hurt away. She’s just here, steady as ever, and I love her more for it.

“Are you ready?” she asks quietly, her voice almost lost in the breeze.

I nod, letting out a slow breath, feeling the salt air fill my lungs. “Yeah. We should go.”

She squeezes my hand, offering a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay to be sad about it, you know.”

I meet her eyes, the compassion in them making my chest tighten. “I know. I just... I wanted her to be here, you know?”

“I know.” She steps closer, wrapping her arms around me. “She’ll still be a part of it, even if it’s not how you imagined.”

I close my eyes, holding her tight for a moment before letting go. “Thanks, Laura. Let’s go get my dad.”

We turn, leaving the cliff behind, and start the drive to Atlanta.

My father—Sasha—will be waiting for us at the airport, and it feels surreal.

I haven’t seen him in almost fifteen years. I’ve imagined this moment so many times, what it would be like to see his faceagain, to hear his voice in person rather than over a muffled phone call. And now, it’s happening. The reality of it weighs heavy on me, mixing excitement with a deep-rooted fear that’s hard to name.

Laura reaches across the car, her hand resting on my leg. “It’s going to be okay,” she says softly, and I glance over, catching the warmth in her eyes. She’s smiling, that gentle smile she saves just for me, and for a moment, it calms me.

“I hope so,” I reply, my voice cracking just a bit.

She tilts her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “I know so. He’s your dad, Val. No matter what, he loves you, and he’s here now. That’s what matters.”

Her words sink in, and I nod, feeling a little of the tension ease. My shoulders drop slightly, the tightness in my chest loosening, and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I squeeze her hand, feeling the warmth of her presence calming me. “Thanks, Laura. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

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