“Don’t tell me you didn’t. Nobody just visits in pants like that.” He jerks his chin at my lounging pants.
Guess I should stick to the truth as much as possible and hope for the best. Now I wished Tolyan hadn’t limited himself to giving me pointers on what to do in case of a home invasion. What’s the protocol when I’m facing his son? “Yeah. Um, like five, six weeks ago.”
Lyosha frowns a little. “And he didn’t say a word…”
“Well… You’re his son, not his boss.” I echo what Tolyan told me earlier.
His frown only deepens. “So? I’m one of the Four.”
“The four what?”
“The four people at the top of his priority list. If you aren’t in that group, you basically don’t matter to him.”
Wow. That’s pretty black-and-white, but then, it seems to fit Tolyan’s personality. If Lyosha knows about it, the Four was probably formed a while ago, which means I’m not in this special group. My chest feels funny, tight and uncomfortable. One night of sex doesn’t make two people extraordinarily special to each other. But just because my head understands that, it doesn’t mean my heart does.
“Don’t worry. There’s no ‘other woman’ in the group,” Lyosha says. “My mom’s dead, in case that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs, trying too hard to be cool. “It was a long time ago.”
“Still.” So awkward. I wish I had a huge bag of chips so I could pretend to dig for some and not have to look at Lyosha. My eyes flick in the direction of the pantry.
He follows my gaze, then frowns a little. “Did Dad show you the cream of corn?”
“Yes,” I say, relieved at the change of topic. “He has towers of them.”
“Huh. That’s a first. He hasn’t done that with anybody, not even Elizabeth.”
“Oh.” I shift my weight, unsure how to process the fact that although I’m not one of the Four, I know something that at least one of the Four doesn’t. So maybe that means I might be able to squeeze into Tolyan’s special group. But realistically, sex isn’t enough to put somebody into a group so intimate. Tolyan’s helping me out of…pity or goodwill or something, and that isn’t enough either. The notion punctures something buoyant and happy inside me, making it shrivel.
“So…” Lyosha nods back over his shoulder at the birthday hats, which are now on the kitchen counter. He must’ve taken them off the dogs when he walked in. “Your birthday?”
“Yes,” I say, happy to change the topic to something safer and more neutral.
“Oh. Cool. Well, happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you make a wish?”
I nod. My wish is always the same—that Roy is out of my life.
“Did Dad ask you what it was?”
“No.”
Lyosha looks a little skeptical. He isn’t saying it out loud, but I can hear it anyway. You guys were doing the horizontal mambo in the bedroom, and you’re saying he didn’t ask? C’mon!
So I add, “But he already knows.”
“Huh. Lucky you.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he’s interested in your birthday wish, it’s going to come true.”
He says it with enough blind conviction that I almost laugh. It’s fascinating. Most people grow out of such trust in their parents when they’re old enough to realize some things are just beyond human capacity. But it’s kind of cute that Lyosha has such childlike faith in his dad, so I decide to humor him. “I hope so.”
“You don’t need to condescend to me.”
Okay, guess he’s sharper than I thought. “Sorry. It’s just…I think it’s interesting you can’t think of a single case when your dad couldn’t make your birthday wish come true. That’s all.”
He looks affronted. “He’s never failed. Never. There’s one he hasn’t delivered on yet, but he will. He told me so.”
“What did you ask for? A fancy car?” I can see Tolyan buying him something expensive for his college graduation.
“Nothing that dumb.” Lyosha’s face is red now, like a pissed-off toddler being told the Christmas present he thought he was getting from Santa isn’t coming. “He’s going to make the man who killed my mom pay.” The moment he blurts the words out, he presses his lips together.
I’m not sure exactly how to respond to the outburst, especially when it’s a subject as sensitive as his mother’s murder. Now I wish that I hadn’t half teased, half pushed him. And that a sinkhole would appear right underneath my feet, just big enough for me to bury myself in shame.
After a moment of awkward silence that makes my skin crawl with embarrassment, he clears his throat. “You probably shouldn’t be here.” Lots of bluster. From the way his eyebrows pinch and un-pinch, he’s uncomfortable about having said too much and wants to say whatever that pops into his head to change the conversation. “You aren’t even… My dad’s an old man—”
“Not that old.” I do my best to keep a straight face.
“—and his son can be an asshole.”
“Really? Most assholes don’t call themselves assholes. Most assholes think they’re the good guys.” Like Roy. And Eric. On the other hand, Lyosha could be thinking I’m too young for his dad, and wants to be a dick to me. This could be his way of warning me off.
He gives me a slightly annoyed look. “What do—”
“What are you doing here, standing in the hall?” Tolyan’s voice comes from behind me. He’s putting away his phone with a cold, dispassionate expression on his chiseled face.
“Just saying hi.” Lyosha’s tone is buttery, his smile polite. It’s like he never said all those things about his mom or his dad or himself. But there’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth, the smallest hint of tension in his indolent pose.
I realize he’s faking it all. He’s not happy I’m here. Does he see me as a threat? Or a replacement for his mom? He might be feeling that way if Tolyan’s never brought a woman home before. It can’t be easy dealing with the idea that his father will eventually move on. Not only that, his mom was murdered and the killer hasn’t been caught yet, so he might feel his dad was going to stay true to his mom’s memory forever.
Tolyan gives him a sharp look, then turns to me. “Was he?”
“More or less.” I offer a diplomatic answer, since I don’t want to lie or cause any friction between him and his son. But, now that I think about it, Lyosha hasn’t introduced himself or even asked who I am. And he hasn’t said hi or anything approximating that, either.
Tolyan narrows his eyes briefly. He’s not fooled. “I thought I told you to let the dogs out,” he says to his son.
“I did, but they wanted to come right back in. They missed me.” Lyosha shrugs.
Tolyan takes the towel from my hand, tosses it into his room and shuts the door. The careless disposal is shocking—he always puts things back where they belong. But maybe he doesn’t want to leave me alone with his son anymore. Tolyan herds everyone into the kitchen and gestures for us to sit on the stools in front of the counter.