Sweet baby Jesus.
“There’s my niece!” she announces with a grin. “Is that her in there?”
I freeze and try really hard to remember what hemlock looks like. Because there’s no way she means it. Right?
The last time I saw Kira, she was calling me names. And now, she’s cooing over my baby?
Not to be crass, butbitch, please.
And yet her smile doesn’t waver. Either she’s nailed it on very hard, or it’s actually, seriously real.
It throws me off balance to see her like this. It feels too easy. Too sudden. Still, I manage a small smile. Kill them with kindness, right?
“She’s sleeping,” I say. “But you can look.”
Kira crosses the room without hesitation and peers into the crib. “Oh,” she breathes out. “She’s perfect.”
Her tone is soft. It sounds so sincere, for a second, I forget who I’m talking to.
She reaches for one tiny hand, careful not to wake her. “You made a beautiful baby, Sima.” Her smile turns to me. “Good job.”
I nod, uncertain what to say. The compliment sounds genuine, but part of me can’t forget the fact that, not too long ago, she was treating me like I didn’t deserve to be here at all.
But maybe this is her trying to mend fences. For Petyr’s sake. For the baby’s. Maybe she finally realized that, like it or not, we’re family.
And I really don’t want to mess that up again. Being family.
“You want to hold her?” I ask finally.
Kira stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. But then, slowly, her eyes brighten. “Can I?”
I hesitate for half a heartbeat before nodding. “Of course. Here…”
Carefully, I lift Lilia and pass her over. Kira picks her up gingerly. Her stance is perfect, too, the way she’s supporting her head so naturally. Like she’s had experience with babies before.
She rocks Lilia gently as she smiles down at her with pure tenderness. “What’s her name?”
“Lilia.”
“Lilia,” Kira hums. “Like Dimitri and Petyr’s mother. Your idea or his?”
“Both,” I say, trying not to sound too defensive. “We really liked the name.”
Kira doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she seems rapt. Her gaze doesn’t leave Lilia for a second. “She looks like Petyr,” she murmurs. “But her eyes… Those are yours.”
The compliment snags in my chest. I want to believe her. Want to trust this softer version of Kira. But part of me still feels the sting of our fraught history. Her scorn, her coldness, the way she always sided against me no matter what I said.
Still, I can’t afford to turn this olive branch away. If I want to make this family work, it needs to go both ways.
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She looks up at me, her smile still in place. “She’s going to have all of us wrapped around her little finger.”
Her voice is warm, and I can’t find a trace of hostility in it. Maybe things really have changed. Or maybe this peace is just another fragile moment waiting to break.
Guess I’ll have to wait and see.
For the rest of the day, the nursery keeps buzzing with activity. Even the most hardened mobsters among Petyr’s entourage end up casually wandering in “for a security check” just to have an excuse to look at her or hold her. Oleg, the scary guy with a full-length scar on his face who stopped me at the gate what feels like a lifetime ago, even chokes up a little.
