Prologue
Late. As always, I was late. No — worse than that. I was late to my own wedding, which is a thousand times worse.
I took the stairs two at a time in that fancy high-rise, half-jogging, praying the cab would wait another five minutes.
The tight bun at the back of my head bounced with every step, tugging my eyebrows up toward my hairline. MY WHOLE FACE HURT.
“Hi, Auntie Anya!” The neighbor’s kid was hauling his scooter up.
“Mm,” I wheezed, and watched him go with envy. Twenty floors up seemed to fire the kid up rather than turn him into a broken-down pony, the way it did me.
Hold on, Anya. Tomorrow you’ll call the building manager and give him hell. Two days this stupid elevator’s been dead, and he hasn’t lifted a finger. To save energy, I cursed strictly in my head.
The fifth floor came into view below.
I couldn’t help it — I let out a loud breath and picked up the pace. On a sprint like this, twentieth floor to the ground, my dress felt like the best choice of my life. Definitely better than the one from two weeks ago. Simple, no crinoline, no plunging neckline, no delicate embroidery or pounds of beading. Exactly what a bride’s dress should be: light, pretty, and not actively trying to kill you.
My perfect choice. No — the best choice was my Trevor.
Senior accountant at the IT company where I’d worked as an engineer for the past year. Also, conveniently, the younger son of my mom’s best friend.
Trevor is thirty-five. Slim, red-haired, cowlicks everywhere, thin-rimmed glasses. Trevor is my childhood dream and, obviously, my first love. Tall, easy in his own body, gorgeous manners — he never once glanced at “Button,” Aunt Lucy’s daughter. And I was that “Button,” the one who dreamed as a kid of giving him her first kiss. And then, from that kiss, bearing him five — no, seven — children, every one of them red-haired like their dad.
I never liked my own dark-blond hair. My eyes, too — emerald with a gray rim — never seemed to sit right next to my round cheeks and flyaway brows. I didn’t like myself, generally speaking. But next to Trevor, somehow, little by little, I learned to.
“Hundred extra for the wait.” The cabbie hit me with it the second I fell into the seat and reached for my phone.
“Sure, sure, I’ll pay by card,” I soothed the twitchy man.
I could barely breathe, so I didn’t risk calling the groom. Last thing I needed was for him to hear me wheezing like an old woman and change his mind.
Trevor, I’m in the cab. Fifteen minutes and I’ll be there! If anyone tries to cut ahead of us — don’t cave. Tell them all to go to hell. I fired off the text to cheer on my beloved and finally started putting myself back together.
To land a slot on the first day of the waxing moon, I’d greased a lot of palms. Tips. Bribes. Oysters. It stung. And it cost.
But Mom said a wedding on the waxing moon means a family lives in plenty for life.
Shame she couldn’t come herself — work trip. She sent Grandma instead.
Trevor was supposed to arrive with his own mother. Though I still didn’t get why he’d spent the night at Mom’s friend’s place when we had a perfectly good, roomy apartment. Muttered something about bad luck, but I was already half asleep and missed it.
To clear today and take a week off on top, I’d been grinding twelve-hour days. Whatever. We’d rest like normal people afterward. Drive out to Mom’s in the country.
Trevor was standing outside the courthouse. White shirt, brown pants. What had gotten into him? Where was the suit? We picked it out together!
I flew at him, pecked his nose, grabbed his hand, and towed him toward the building.
“You’ve got the IDs?”
I glanced back at Trevor, who looked oddly lost. I was shaking too — from impatience — but we were late, and if we didn’t run now, all my effort would go straight down the drain.
“Anya, listen—”
“Don’t tell me you forgot them!” I panicked.
Trevor shook his head. Good boy. That’s what a responsible man looks like.
“Okay, then we’ve got nothing to be scared of.” I smiled to reassure him and shoved the doors open.
Grandma was already there. In a matching two-piece with a pleated skirt just below the knee, she smiled at me warmly and nodded for me to hurry — the woman at the desk was visibly getting antsy.
Don’t forget to tell Grandma how beautiful she looks, I made a mental note.
After that, everything happened without me. Here’s the woman reading a long speech. I should look up later what they even say at these things.
Here she is, asking me something. I answer, hoarse:
“Yes.”
Then silence. Floating in this unearthly happiness, I turn to Trevor. He’s biting his lip, thinking hard about something.
“Do you take this woman to be your wife—” The woman, apparently, is repeating the question. Not for the first time.
But he lets go of my hand and drags his palms through his hair, mussing it until a nest forms on top of his head.
“Anya, I—” my beloved starts.
Grandma hisses at him to shut his beak and not dare ruin a day like this, or she’ll pluck him bald herself the second we get home. But Trevor doesn’t stop.
“Anya, I’m not marrying you! You’ve been like a hurricane lately — you never shut up, never let me get a word in!” His voice climbs with every word. “I’m flying out today. I came to say a proper goodbye, and even here you’re like a bulldozer — you just won’t brake!”
My smile refuses to peel off my face.
My brain knows this is something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. But you can’t reason with a heart — mine’s still pumping serotonin through my veins. How can this be? Anya Morozova finally got her big happiness! Twenty-seven years old, and her first love is taking her as his wife—
We’re still standing in the ceremony hall. So quiet a fly would be scared to sneeze, and I stand there grinning like an idiot, no idea what to say.
“Don’t you dare, you little runt!” Grandma barked so hard even I flinched.
Trevor actually recoiled from us.
“There! You see?” He tapped his temple. “Your whole family’s like this. Cracked.”
“Where?” I asked in a voice that wasn’t mine.
“Where what?” Trevor’s eye twitched. Then his leg started jittering.
“Where are you flying?”
“The islands,” he grumbled, like I was supposed to know which ones.
“And what do we do about the food?” burst out of me.
I felt so sorry for the spread at that upscale restaurant — the one I’d paid a small fortune for. But why let good food go to waste? Worst case, I’d give it all to Grandma. She’s got neighbors out there, and Masha just had her fifth — Mom’s neighbor. They need it more—
“There’s no food,” Trevor winced. “I told you: I’m leaving! What, was I supposed to beg Mom for plane fare?”
And there — there I finally snapped back to myself. I’d had a little nest egg. And I’d handed that nest egg to—
I narrowed my eyes and, heart stalling, asked, “Trevor. Where’s my money?”
“Idiot,” the snake sneered, and stalked out.
I turned slowly to Grandma, unable to force out a single word. My groom had just dumped me at the altar, robbed me, and called me an idiot on his way out. It was sinking in slowly, and I felt myself dissolving with it. Pain, like a hole eating me alive.
“Grandma?” I looked at the wisest woman we had, pleading.
“There, there, sweetheart! There are prettier roosters out there than that scarecrow!” she whispered furiously and pulled me tight against her chest.
I howled.
Quietly — so the world wouldn’t hear — but the kind of howl that wrings you out like food poisoning.
“There, there, little one! If not in this world, then in another, you’ll find your happiness!” Grandma said, cryptic, and reached into her blouse. “I had a suitor once, back in the day. Every girl choked on her own envy, and he only ever looked at me. Told me if I ever missed him, I’d just turn this — and I’d land right beside him. He’d love me so well I’d never want another man as long as I lived.”
For a second I stopped crying and lifted my head.
I looked at Grandma’s rosy cheeks and forgot, for a moment, why we were even standing there.
“Grandma, what are you—” I stared at her dreamy smile.
“I was just thinking... maybe I should send you there, hm? Maybe there are more like my suitor. You’d find yourself a decent man, live a woman’s happy life, and forget this scoundrel?”
“Um... send me where?”
That’s all I managed before nimble, quick-fingered Grandma slipped the pendant over my head, turned something — and I dropped through a gaping hole that opened under my feet.
“Have fun, dear!” the old woman called after me, waving goodbye.
“Oh, hell—”“Oh, hell—”
