been difficult to go through alone."
"I wasn't totally alone. I had my extended family and the church and the boutique employees and Vivian. She used to go right from her morning classes to the boutique to run the registers and help with brides all afternoon and then she'd go straight to Samovar to wait tables until ten at night. Sometimes, she'd let herself into my mama's house—where I was staying at the time—to do my laundry or clean the place."
"I'm not surprised. Vivian doesn't do anything by half-measures." He pulled another stack of pancakes onto his plate. "Your mother has live-in help now?"
"No. She's in an assisted-living community."
The knife he'd stabbed into the butter stopped midway to his plate. "You put your mother in a nursing home?"
Taken aback by his tone, I bristled defensively. "It's not a nursing home, and I didn't put her there. She chose to go there."
"I find it hard to believe that any person would choose to go into a place like that." He gestured around the kitchen with the knife. "Your mother should be here with you."
I started to tell him off but then it occurred to me that maybe this wasn't about me at all. Leaning back in my chair, I asked, "Where does your mother live, Sergei?"
His jaw tightened, and he smashed the butter onto the pancakes in front of him. Finally, he growled, "I had to leave her behind."
The pain etched into his handsome face slashed at me. "Why?"
He glanced away from me and fixed his gaze on the opposite wall. "Something very bad happened back in Russia, and I had to get out—fast. There wasn't time to make arrangements for my mother or my brother—"
"You have a brother?"
He dragged his gaze back to me. "I had two brothers. Now, I…I only have one."
"Why do I get the feeling we have more in common than I'd ever suspected?"
"Because we do," Sergei said with a sigh. "But it's much too early to get into all of that ugliness."
"Yeah, you're probably right." I didn't feel like digging into the painful memories of my past either. "So your mother and brother are back in Moscow?"
"Yes."
"And…you haven't tried to bring them over?"
His expression turned dark. "I've been trying for two years. It's a complicated and very expensive process."
Another thought suddenly struck. "Um…are you legal?"
Sergei snorted and sliced his fork through his pancakes. "Yes. I have a green card. I'm a permanent resident."
"Oh. Okay."
"Why? Would you not date me if I wasn't?" He popped a triangle of pancakes into his mouth.
"I would be hesitant to get involved with someone who could be deported at any moment." I fiddled with my fork and poked at the sliver of pancakes left on my plate. "Is that what we're doing? Dating, I mean."
He swallowed his mouthful. "I thought we were going to start. After last night, I'm not going back to the way it was between us. We either begin to date and give things between us a try, or it ends here with breakfast."
Despite my reservations, I couldn't bear the thought of sending him away. The connection between us was too real to deny. "I'd like to try dating."
"Good." He ate another bite while I sipped my coffee. Sighing again, he reached out and touched my knee. "I shouldn't have snapped at you about your mother. That's…that's my baggage and my bullshit. I'm sure that your mother is very happy where she is now."
"It's a nice place. Really," I added upon seeing the skepticism that flashed in his eyes. "She has her own apartment and round-the-clock access to skilled nursing and on-site rehab. There's a chef and housekeeping and an amazing recreation center where she gets together with other residents. She even plays video games now!"
Sergei laughed. "Are you serious?"
I giggled. "Yeah. It's part of developing her motor skills, I guess."
"Maybe I'll have to challenge her to a game."
I tried to imagine Sergei and my mother playing virtual tennis. The image was just too comical. "She'd probably like that."
"I want to meet her."
I swallowed
"I wasn't totally alone. I had my extended family and the church and the boutique employees and Vivian. She used to go right from her morning classes to the boutique to run the registers and help with brides all afternoon and then she'd go straight to Samovar to wait tables until ten at night. Sometimes, she'd let herself into my mama's house—where I was staying at the time—to do my laundry or clean the place."
"I'm not surprised. Vivian doesn't do anything by half-measures." He pulled another stack of pancakes onto his plate. "Your mother has live-in help now?"
"No. She's in an assisted-living community."
The knife he'd stabbed into the butter stopped midway to his plate. "You put your mother in a nursing home?"
Taken aback by his tone, I bristled defensively. "It's not a nursing home, and I didn't put her there. She chose to go there."
"I find it hard to believe that any person would choose to go into a place like that." He gestured around the kitchen with the knife. "Your mother should be here with you."
I started to tell him off but then it occurred to me that maybe this wasn't about me at all. Leaning back in my chair, I asked, "Where does your mother live, Sergei?"
His jaw tightened, and he smashed the butter onto the pancakes in front of him. Finally, he growled, "I had to leave her behind."
The pain etched into his handsome face slashed at me. "Why?"
He glanced away from me and fixed his gaze on the opposite wall. "Something very bad happened back in Russia, and I had to get out—fast. There wasn't time to make arrangements for my mother or my brother—"
"You have a brother?"
He dragged his gaze back to me. "I had two brothers. Now, I…I only have one."
"Why do I get the feeling we have more in common than I'd ever suspected?"
"Because we do," Sergei said with a sigh. "But it's much too early to get into all of that ugliness."
"Yeah, you're probably right." I didn't feel like digging into the painful memories of my past either. "So your mother and brother are back in Moscow?"
"Yes."
"And…you haven't tried to bring them over?"
His expression turned dark. "I've been trying for two years. It's a complicated and very expensive process."
Another thought suddenly struck. "Um…are you legal?"
Sergei snorted and sliced his fork through his pancakes. "Yes. I have a green card. I'm a permanent resident."
"Oh. Okay."
"Why? Would you not date me if I wasn't?" He popped a triangle of pancakes into his mouth.
"I would be hesitant to get involved with someone who could be deported at any moment." I fiddled with my fork and poked at the sliver of pancakes left on my plate. "Is that what we're doing? Dating, I mean."
He swallowed his mouthful. "I thought we were going to start. After last night, I'm not going back to the way it was between us. We either begin to date and give things between us a try, or it ends here with breakfast."
Despite my reservations, I couldn't bear the thought of sending him away. The connection between us was too real to deny. "I'd like to try dating."
"Good." He ate another bite while I sipped my coffee. Sighing again, he reached out and touched my knee. "I shouldn't have snapped at you about your mother. That's…that's my baggage and my bullshit. I'm sure that your mother is very happy where she is now."
"It's a nice place. Really," I added upon seeing the skepticism that flashed in his eyes. "She has her own apartment and round-the-clock access to skilled nursing and on-site rehab. There's a chef and housekeeping and an amazing recreation center where she gets together with other residents. She even plays video games now!"
Sergei laughed. "Are you serious?"
I giggled. "Yeah. It's part of developing her motor skills, I guess."
"Maybe I'll have to challenge her to a game."
I tried to imagine Sergei and my mother playing virtual tennis. The image was just too comical. "She'd probably like that."
"I want to meet her."
I swallowed
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