Page 116 of Dance with Me
“It is. I’ve been keeping count.”
She scowled, then wiped it from her face as the cab rolled to a stop.
“Relax. She’s going to love you. Just like I do.” He kissed her before opening the door and climbing out.
The corners of her mouth tugged upward in a smile. Hearing that he loved her never got old.
Natasha had expected to have a moment to collect herself before meeting Oksana Kovalenko, but Dimitri’s mother awaited them on the curb in front of Alex’s house, flanked by Alex, his wife, Marina, and Dimitri’s dad, Misha.
Oksana, a former dancer, was still lean and willowy, with perfect posture. Andfast.She swooped in the second Natasha was out of the car.
“There you are!” She went to throw her arms around Natasha, then froze. “Can I hug you? I feel like I already know you.”
Natasha laughed, a combination of nerves and giddiness. Had anyone ever been this excited to see her? Gina, Abuela . . . it was a short list. “Of course you can hug me,” she said, and Oksana clasped her in a tight bear hug.
Natasha shut her eyes, inhaling. Oksana smelled like sweet perfume. Maybe jasmine. But her hug . . . her hug feltmotherly.
Coño,she was going to cry if she didn’t get hold of herself. She’d have to blame it on jetlag.
Oksana pulled back, but didn’t release her. “Natasha,” she said. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kovalenko.”
“No, no!” Oksana pressed a hand to her chest, scandalized. “Shusha. You must call me Shusha.”
Shusha? Natasha met Dimitri’s eyes, and he leaned in to explain. “It’s a nickname for Oksana.”
“Ah. Like Dima or Mitya for Dimitri?”
He nodded. “We never use full names with family.”
“That’s okay. Puerto Ricans love nicknames, too.” Her great-grandfather had called her Nati until the day he died. Funny, she hadn’t thought about that in years.
Oksana slid an arm around Natasha’s waist and walked her toward the house. “And what do you call Mitya?”
“I call himMacho.”
Oksana let out a peal of laughter. “Perfect. And you, I’ll call you Natka, if you’ll let me.”
Did that mean she was part of the family? Natasha’s cheeks warmed as she smiled at Oksana. “I’d like that,” she said.
Inside the house, Dimitri made the rest of the introductions. Natasha had met Alex already, but she congratulated Marina, whose baby bump wasn’t showing yet, and hugged Dimitri’s father, who spoke less than his wife but smiled just as much.
These were the people who’d raised Dimitri, who’d given up everything to take their sons somewhere safer, more stable, and with more opportunities. Their love had shaped Dimitri into the man he was today, a man who was by turns stubborn and sweet, creative and cocky, but so, so loving.
Natasha finally had a moment to breathe when she and Dimitri took their bags up to the guest room.
“They’re a lot to take in,” he said in a low voice as he set their suitcases in one corner of the room. And embroidered quilt covered the bed, and a print of the Eiffel Tower hung on the wall.
“I like them.” Natasha dropped her purse on the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed to catch her bearings. “They’re nice people.”
“I think so.” Dimitri hung the garment bag they shared in the closet.
Natasha traced the embroidered designs with her fingers.“Macho?”
Something in her tone must have given her away, because he stopped fiddling with the luggage and sat next to her on the bed. “What is it?” he asked, cupping her cheek. “After that display, you can’t possibly be worried she doesn’t like you.”
“It’s not that.”Dios,this was difficult. She forced herself to meet his eyes and speak the words that burdened her. “Dimitri. I love you.”
