CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
There’d been no further confrontation with her father. Theresa had refused to see him or to answer his calls, and he’d left close to a dozen. She hadn’t bothered to listen to the messages. They’d all be the same, she thought. First, he’d beg her to forgive him. Eventually he’d start to accuse her of being in the wrong, and finally, at the end, he would cry that she hated him, and there would be no good answer for that. She probably did hate him.
She had not spoken to Ilya for two days. She had left him a single voice mail, which he hadn’t answered, and one text he hadn’t replied to. She’d been careful to spend as much time away from the house as possible, leaving Alicia and Niko their space. In the aftermath of the huge reveal, Theresa had tried to talk to her, but Alicia had refused. Politely, with tears thick in her throat, but making it clear she was not going to discuss anything with Theresa, at least not right away. Theresa wasn’t sure where it left their friendship, but she could respect Alicia’s reluctance.
Today was the B’s Diner grand opening, and Theresa could not miss it. No matter what had happened, or how terrible she was at apologies and trust, or that Ilya had broken his promise to her, she had to be there. Not because she’d put her time and effort and, yes, her future financial security into it. She had to be there because this was the work they’d done together, and she believed in him, and she wasn’t going to give up.
Not on him.
Not on them.
By the time she got to the diner, the lot was full. A good sign, but one that gave her an anxious stomach and sweaty palms. The soft opening had gone off basically without more than a few hitches, but today was full staff, regular operating hours, and all the problems that could come along with it. She took the time to check her lipstick and hair in the rearview mirror and smoothed the front of her summer dress.
The back door was unlocked, and she went inside to be greeted with the delicious smells of breakfast and the bustle of a kitchen running at top speed. She wasn’t too worried—a number of the full-time staff they’d hired had worked for the Zimmermans and had a lot of experience. Even so, new menu items, new policies . . . she greeted everyone, making sure to stay out of the way and leave them to their work.
She found Ilya in the tiny office, where he was fixing his tie in a small mirror. He didn’t turn when she came in, but he looked at her in the reflection. For a moment, Theresa froze, waiting for him to tell her to get out.
Ilya smiled.
“You made it,” he said.
Then he faced her, and she was crossing the room to push his hands gently away from the mess he’d made of his tie. She fixed it for him, loosening the knot first, then smoothing and tightening it. She ran her hands over the front of his suit.
“There,” Theresa said. “Gorgeous.”
Ilya put his hands on her hips and waited until she was looking into his eyes before he said, “Let’s do this thing.”
“A lot of people showed up,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not the diner. Let’s face it. We’re still going to screw up some things, but we hired good people, and you’re smart and organized, and I come up with crazy, brilliant ideas. But I don’t mean the diner. I mean us. Let’s do this thing, Theresa. Okay? No more back and forth, no more keeping secrets.”
“You think it’ll be that easy, huh?” She let her hands slide up his chest to rest on his shoulders so she could curl her fingers around the back of his neck.
“Hell, no. I think it’s going to be harder than anything I’ve ever done, that’s for sure. But if you’ll let me, I’ll try. I can’t promise you I won’t be an asshole sometimes—”
She kissed him. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. And I’ll do my best, but I’m sure there are times when it will be hard for me to share things with you, because that’s my damage.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing. You know that, right?” His hands anchored on her hips, pulling her a little closer.
“Oh, believe me, I know.”
This time, he kissed her. A knock on the door interrupted them. They both turned.
“Hey,” Betty said, “I have a customer out here who wants to know about catering. Can you come talk to her?”
“Sure. Be right there.” Ilya waited until Betty had closed the door, then added, “You ready for this?”
Theresa drew in a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
‘‘What a day.” Ilya couldn’t remember ever being so exhausted or exhilarated in his life.
Theresa yawned and stretched as she kicked off her shoes and fell onto the couch. “No kidding. I’m not sure my feet will ever recover.”
They’d left B’s Diner in the hopefully capable hands of Matt, the night manager. With takeout packages of liver pudding, potato salad, matzoh-ball soup, roasted chicken, and challah so they could test out the kitchen’s prowess in reproducing Babulya’s recipes, as well as feed themselves after a day of nonstop working, they’d come back to Ilya’s house. The food was warming in the oven. He had some other things on his mind.
“Hey.” He slid onto the couch next to her. “We made it.”
She chuckled and leaned against him. “Yeah. The first day. You know how many days we still have to get through?”
“All of them, I’d say.” He grinned.
“If we’re lucky.” Theresa’s expression turned solemn. “It was a good day, wasn’t it? Tell me I’m not just imagining it. People were having a good time, right? They liked the food.”
“Patty said she’d never had a better day, with tips,” Ilya said. “I think that says a lot, doesn’t it?”
Theresa shifted to sit up straighter, facing him. “I had fun, too. Did you?”
“You know what? I did.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think I would, you know? I thought I’d be stressed about everything. I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“I knew you’d be able to handle it,” she said.
“I love you,” Ilya said.
It came up and out of him as easily as any words ever had in his entire life. Stranger still, he didn’t regret saying them. If anything, the relief of finally admitting it to her had him breathing a deep-seated sigh.
“I . . . oh my God,” Theresa said. “Wow.”
Ilya leaned closer. “Don’t say it back or anything, it’s not like I care. I’m going to love you whether you love me back. I’m all in it, and there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“I love you, too,” Theresa whispered into his kiss. “Weirdo.”