Page 60 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
“You’re not one of those guys who buys groceries and then expects me to cook it all, right?”Nadya asked, arms folded.
“Negative.I’m one of those guys who cooks and then expects you to pretend it doesn’t taste like shit.”I handed her the chocolate.“And this is for you.”
“Thanks.”She beamed at me as she unwrapped my offering and popped the first piece into her mouth.“I have meatballs in the freezer.Ljuba made a bunch and left them in case of an emergency.Want me to cook them?”
“She had cat burglar emergencies before?”I asked as I opened the freezer and found the stash.
“No, Tuna, I think cats just like you,” Nadya answered with a cheeky smile.
She got out a pan, rattled around for a spatula, then motioned for me to move.“I’ll do the meatballs.You do the salad and garlic bread.”
There wasn’t enough space for both of us to move around, so I waited until she started browning the meatballs before I went for the cutting board.The kitchen was the size of a large closet, which meant that every time I turned or reached, I ended up elbowing her or bumping into her hip.
After the third collision, Nadya asked, “You ever cook with someone before?”
“My mom.”
And every time I had, I wondered if she would’ve cooked with my sister instead.My entire childhood was one giant what if.Every excursion with my parents made me wonder what it would’ve been like if Isabella had been there?Would we go on different rides because she would’ve been scared?Would we split up so we could both get what we wanted?Would we eat burgers or go for the hot dog stand?
Would I have ever met Nadya at all if Isabella hadn’t been snatched up?
I probably never would’ve worked for the FBI, so I wouldn’t have gone to New York that year since that trip had been work-related.
The salad came together fast, so I sliced bread, slathered it with butter and minced garlic, and stuck it under the broiler.
Nadya was doing something complicated with the sauce, adding a pinch of this and a glug of that until the smell of tomato and garlic filled the whole apartment.She had a way of moving that made chaos look like choreography—every splash just absorbed into the motion.
While the sauce simmered, Nadya leaned back against the counter and asked, “So, how was your day?”
“Productive,” I said.“Talked to Renat.”
She nodded, eyes on the window.“And you talked to Sean?”
She might’ve voiced it as a question, but the look on her face told me she already knew.
“He’ll send someone tomorrow morning to make your apartment more secure,” I answered.
She looked at me, not quite smiling.“Are you always this overprotective?”
I shrugged.“When I care about someone, yeah.”
My words hung in the air.What was I doing?I shouldn’t say things like that.She was still a witness.
Although, if I only went after George for the kidnapping, then I wouldn’t need Nadya as a witness.That case was straightforward.I had seen with my own eyes how Ljuba had jumped out of the car and done her best to run away.
Nadya looked down at her hands, then back at me.“It’s kinda nice to have someone other than my sisters worry about me.”
“It’s also kinda codependent,” I said, hoping to make her laugh.“But my therapist says as long as you’re honest about it, it’s fine.”
Nadya rolled her eyes, but there was a real smile behind it.I was becoming addicted to these smiles.
“Your therapist gives you a lot of dating advice?”she asked jokingly.
“Mostly that I’m not allowed to use handcuffs recreationally,” I deadpanned.
She snorted and reached for the salad bowl, bumping me with her hip.“You’re so full of shit.Why even work in law enforcement if you don’t use handcuffs recreationally?”
I set the salad down and watched as she grated parmesan over the meatballs, her wrist flicking, curls bouncing every time she looked up at me to see if I was watching.Of course I was.Nadya was like a solar flare—light and heat, making me feel like if I got too close, I’d never be the same.I busied myself with the bread, just to avoid blurting out something embarrassing.Like how in this exact moment, in this exact room, I felt more at home than anywhere since my own house growing up.
