“Let me help,” I say, my hand already on her elbow, steadying her automatically.
She glances up, exasperation and amusement warring in her eyes. “I’m just fixing a napkin, Santo.”
“Still.” I help her straighten up, my hand lingering on her hip. “You shouldn’t bend like that.”
“Because...?”she prompts, eyebrow raised.
I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “Because every man in this room is watching your ass, and I’m about to start removing eyeballs with Vaska’s favorite knife.”
She laughs, the sound light and musical. “Liar. First of all, none of them see me like that and secondly, they’re terrified ofyou.”
“As they should be.” I press a kiss to her temple. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she says, but I catch the slight tremor in her voice. The exhaustion creeping in at the edges. She’s been on her feet for hours.
“Sit,” I say, settling on the couch “Just for a minute.”
She nods, lowering herself onto my lap, her legs drape over mine, and I settle her exactly where I want safe and soft and close.
Her tiny weight relaxes against me, warming every part of my body.
My hands bracket her gently, one above the knee, one on her waist, she brushes her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
She sighs, melting into me. “A lot of men brought their wives or girlfriends.”
“Mhm.” I hum, noncommittal.
Not because I don’t care, but because I’m too busy watching her.
Studying her.
Is she pale?
Is she tired?
Is she breathing too fast?
Is she hungry?
Is she dizzy?
Is she in pain?
I’m tracking every tiny shift in her body like it’s life or death.
“It’s nice to see them all together,” she murmurs, leaning her head against my shoulder. “It feels… warm. Like a real family.”
My thumb strokes slow circles on her hip.
I love when she talks like that.
I love that she sees light in places I don’t.
I’m about to tell her she did all of this, she created this warmth, when she suddenly sits up straighter.
“Lila hasn’t shown up.”
I blink, refocusing. “What?”
