“So, a grope-athon.”
“Don’t be silly.” Babka patted her hand. “You don’t have to give him your boobs. Besides, that would be a dead giveaway. The bride is flat as a pancake.”
“Mama Volkov!” Alina burst into giggles. “It’s okay, Rosie. You just take his hand and put it wherever you like. But it would be hilarious if—”
Rosie rolled her eyes. The things I do for you, Eddie. But really, she was having a good time. Eddie’s extended family were jolly and welcoming. So far, no one had openly ogled her tattoos.
“Here he comes!” The best man led the wobbly, blindfolded groom to the first woman in line, a sixty-something lady with a bosom like the prow of a ship, who took his extended hand and slapped it right onto her boob.
The groom gave her a squeeze, then recoiled in mock horror. “Madam! I’m a married man.”
The room echoed with laughter.
“See?” Babka elbowed her. “It’s fun!”
While she waited for her turn, she searched the ballroom for Eddie. There he was, back at their table seated between his dad and granddad. Both older men leaned in close, gesticulating and talking rapidly. Eddie looked pale, answering in staccato nods. Probably grilling him about some picky detail of the dry-cleaning business. Was he ever going to tell them his plans? The longer he waited, the harder they’d take it.
Eddie glanced up and gave her a sickly half-smile. She mouthed, “Tell them.” He gave his head a sharp shake. Didn’t he realize this was the perfect chance? His parents would never flip out in front of all their relatives.
She gave herself a mental smack. It’s not like his future will impact me. We’re on totally different paths.
When the groom stepped in front of her, Rosie placed his hand on her waist. It slid down to her hip. “Mmm, nice,” he purred.
A bridesmaid clucked her tongue. “Boy, you are in trouble.”
The groom leaned in and took a big sniff. “Nope, wrong perfume. Sorry, miss.” He threw his head back and wailed, “Rina, where are you? They’ve kidnapped my bride.”
Once the bride had been identified and claimed with a dramatic movie kiss, Alina pulled Rosie aside. “Let’s get a drink, dear.”
“Actually, I think I’ll have a water.”
“Nonsense. It’s a wedding.” Alina towed her to the bar and ordered two champagne cocktails. She plopped into a seat at an empty table. “I want your advice. About Eddie.”
Rosie sat beside her. “I’ll help if I can, but I don’t know him all that well.”
When Alina raised an eyebrow, she added, “I mean, we’ve only been dating for…” She counted on her fingers.
“Five weeks.” Alina nodded. “Plenty of time if you’re in love. So tell me, what is up with my son?”
Her pulse skipped, then sped. “Er—what do you mean?”
“Lately, at work, he seems distant, glum, bored. Has he told you why?”
Rosie’s mouth went Sahara-dry. “Why would he tell me?”
Alina patted her hand. “It’s okay, Rosie. When he was younger, my Eddie would tell me everything.” She tapped her temple. “I could always tell when he was lying, so he didn’t try to fool me. Now—” She shrugged. “He is grown. It’s normal for a young man to share secrets with his sweetheart instead of his mama. But I can’t help worrying. The business will be his soon, and he doesn’t seem to care.”
“Soon?”
Alina beckoned Rosie close enough to smell her Shalimar perfume and boozy breath. “We haven’t told Eddie yet because we don’t want to worry him, but we can’t put it off much longer. So I need your help.”
Her throat tightened, turning her voice to a squeak. “Why me?”
“When Eddie’s with you, he lights up like Christmas. You two are like those—oh, what do they call the little parrots that cuddle all the time?”
“Lovebirds?”
“Exactly.” Alina grinned. “Just now, on the dance floor—” Her gaze grew misty. “Vadim and I used to dance like that. Every Friday night, he would take me—” She sighed and gulped her drink. “No matter. These days, my husband is in too much pain to dance. Or to work.”
“Oh no, is he ill?” That would explain Mr. Volkov’s serious, frowny demeanor.
“His back. All those years of lifting heavy clothes.” She pantomimed hooking hangers onto an overhead rack. “And his blood pressure is very high. The doctor can’t find the right medicine. She says it’s time for him to retire. If he doesn’t—” Her voice wobbled. “It’s time for Eduard to step into his father’s shoes.”
Rosie’s chest ached. All Eddie’s plans, all the work and hope he’d put into his dream bar, flushed away. He’d never stand up for himself now—how could he, as devoted as he was to his family? His parents were dooming him to a lifetime of frustration and regret. He’d end up a bitter, withered old man with a bad back and probably cancer from the dry-cleaning chemicals.
She swallowed a spiky lump. “What if—now, don’t freak out—what if he has other plans?”
Alina’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, other plans? He’s been training his whole life to take over the family business.”
“Have you ever asked him, though?”
“Pffsht.” Alina waved away the suggestion. “Why ask when the answer is obvious?”
“Here’s the thing.” Don’t fuck this up don’t fuck this up don’t… “In my family, it’s just assumed that everyone will go to college and become a professional. You know, like my grandparents are dentists and my mom’s a teacher and my cousins are MBAs and CPAs.” You’re blathering. Rein it in. “I didn’t want to let them down, but I hated college.”
“And?” Alina folded her arms across her chest.
“Telling my mom I was dropping out was really hard. She was disappointed, but she understood, and I’m so grateful.”
Alina’s lips pursed. “Are you telling me my boy wants to make tattoos now?”
“No! It’s just—” She raked her fingers into her hair, dislodging her stiffly sprayed updo. “You want him to be happy, right?”
“Of course we want that.” Lips clamped tight, Alina rose. “What could make him
