Page 94 of Not Part of the Plan
Her voice was louder, more boisterous, than the soft whisper of his mother’s and held notes of Germany, her country of birth.
“Where are my manners? I must have been so distracted by the beauty of the girl Nikolai brought with him or the smell of your cooking,” Vadim said, raising a flirtatious eyebrow.
“Oh, I can see why you are the way you are.” Emma raised her eyebrows at Niko, and Greta laughed.
She offered Emma her hand. “I am Greta, married to this incorrigible flirt.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Greta. I’m Emma, and I’m dating incorrigible flirt junior.”
Niko surprised Greta by swooping in and offering her a peck on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you again, Greta.”
“You, too, Nikolai. I will get you a vodka,” she winked. “Emma, would you like a glass of wine?”
“I’d love one. We brought a bottle with us if you’d like to open it.” She offered the raffia bag to Greta.
“Wonderful. We shall drink, and we shall dine.”
The doorbell buzzed, and Greta clapped her hands. “They’re here!” She rushed to the door.
“I hope you don’t mind, but we invited Greta’s daughters,” Vadim said, looking at his feet.
Niko felt Emma slide her arm through his. “The more the merrier,” she insisted. “Right, Niko?” Her smile, slow and sweet, soothed the rough edges, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“The more the merrier,” he agreed.
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And merrier it was. Greta’s oldest daughter, Adele, brought her husband, Tony, and their two kids, London, age six, and his sister Maria, age four. The presence of the kids made it impossible for awkward pauses. Katrina, Greta’s younger daughter, was the only ice cube of the evening in Niko’s mind. Katrina had her mother’s blonde hair cut in a short nearly platinum cap.
She had no qualms about being up front. When Greta called them all to the table for dinner, Katrina stepped in front of Niko.
“I don’t like anyone who doesn’t like my mother.”
Emma’s eyes widened, and she brought her wine glass to her mouth.
Niko looked her way for help, but Emma shook her head. He was on his own.
“I don’tnotlike your mother,” he argued.
“They’ve been married almost two years, and this is the first time you come to their house. That doesn’t exactly scream supportive son.”
She hit her target with that one. Just because his father hadn’t been extending invitations didn’t mean Niko shouldn’t have been putting forth the effort.
“I’m here now,” he said evenly.
“Good. Now try not to fuck it up,” she warned before filing into the dining room behind her brother-in-law.
Emma let out a breath. “She’s scary. I like her.”
Niko guided her in front of him like a human shield. “You would,” he murmured.
“Don’t worry, Nikolai. I won’t let her hurt you.”
They dined on chicken Parmesan in honor of Emma and blini and spätzle to round out the international representation. The bottle of wine Emma chose had been opened and emptied as had two more that Greta produced from the kitchen. Watching his father’s interaction with Greta’s family made Niko feel as if he’d been absent for years. It was an easy dynamic, one that he and Emma were welcomed into—with the exception of Katrina.
The conversation never lagged, not with so many mouths around the table. Greta was a research scientist in plant sciences. She and his father enjoyed animated if technical discussions with Adele, who was a biochemist. Tony was in finance. Katrina ran a salon and was a bit prickly about it, but Niko got it. She was from a family of science and logic. Growing up, he’d had his mother to support and understand his creative hobbies.
Emma entertained them all with stories of dinner shifts gone horrifically wrong, and the kids gave a running commentary on their day in school and daycare.
