I drop my head and look down at my hands. “My father never really let me see this side of the business. You could say my mom and I were quite sheltered.”
He reaches for my hand, palming it in his warm, gentle hands. “Hey. Hey,Vedma, look at me. I’m the one who got shot, and I’m comforting the uninjured. Do you think that’s fair to me?”
I pout but don’t answer him. So he continues, grinning down at me. “Be real,Vedma. Did you think I looked cool fighting off those bad guys? Come on, tell me. Am I not husband material? I’m strong, and I protected you.”
I roll my eyes. He’s so cocky. He can’t be less self-absorbed for one minute. But in a way, his attempt at comforting me after being the one hurt just makes me start crying. “Never take those kinds of risks again.” My voice starts to break. “I don’t care if you’re the Pakhan. We were surrounded by all those guys, and one of them had a gun. You should have a little bit of fear in you.”
He brings his hands to my face, wiping my tears away with his thumb. “Don’t cry,Vedma. You’re actually kind of ugly when you do.”
I jerk back, incredulous at his statement. “How dare you call me ugly?”
He smiles. “Well, that stopped the crying, didn’t it?”
“You’re a very horrible human being. You’re an awful husband, and I hate you.” But I actually start to smile despite everything. He makes me smile.
“That’s my girl.” His eyes melt as he looks up at me. “Look at her smile. When you smile, you look absolutely beautiful. Don’t cry. And I’m sorry for saying that when you cry, you’re ugly. I was just messing with you and trying to make you laugh. I guess my joke did go a little bit too far.”
I pout. “You couldn’t find anything else to say?” I say, wiping my face. “All you could say was I’m an ugly crier? And here I am crying on your behalf. In fact, the next time you get shot, I’m going to laugh. I’ll throw a freaking party and then laugh, I won’t even come and check on you.”
“Oh, come on now,Vedma.”
A knock on the door interrupts us. His eyes go to the door immediately, alert.
“Come in,” he says.
The staff member enters carrying a tray. She looks nervous. “Sir, your meal is here.” She sets the tray on the bedside table, bowing her head and leaving immediately.
I stand up, ready to go. “Alright. I’m going to leave you to eat. I need to go get my own food, and then I’ll come back later when you’re done. Okay?”
Just as I’m about to go out, his hand shoots out, catching my wrist. “What?” I look at him questioningly.
“Vedma, I’m in a sick bed.” He gestures weakly at himself. “Look at the IV drip. I lost a lot of blood yesterday. I can’t even feel my hands right now. I can’t eat. I need your help.”
I look at his hand holding my wrist in a strong grip. “These hands are the same ones you just called trembling and weak. Yet, you have the strength to hold me back, and you can’t lift a single spoon to feed yourself?”
“Oh, come on,Vedma. This is a different case.”
I guess my face says that I don’t believe him because immediately, he starts to groan loudly and dramatically.
“Ugh. Argh. Oh, it hurts. Oh my god. I feel like my hand has been amputated. If only a sweet, loving, caring, beautiful, most gorgeous wife could help me from this pain.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “You’re such a crybaby. Alright. I’m going to feed you. But this is the only time I’m going to do it. Next time, maybe you can get one of your security guards to feed you.”
“I’d rather die,” he says.
“Suit yourself.” I pick up the spoon. “I will be planning your funeral after this.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and grab the tray. There are eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee… the basic English breakfast. “Open wide.”
When he does, I stuff a piece of egg into his mouth. Alexei moans, wrapping his mouth around the fork. “Delicious.”
“It’s just eggs,” I mutter.
Immediately, he rebuts, “It’s not just eggs. These are eggs fed to me by my beautiful wife. They taste completely different from the eggs I would have eaten a moment ago.”
Ignoring him, I continue to feed him bite after bite. With each one, he makes more ridiculous comments, and then I end up threatening to leave and let him starve. He then smiles, stopping for a little bit. But it feels so nice that I don’t want this to end – this moment, this sweet side of him. But I know from that alleyway that once we get back to Russia, things are going to take a violent turn.
For now, I want to enjoy this.