“Say them.”
“My mother comes,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“My name on the paperwork,” I say. “On theirs. On mine. Nothing hidden. Nothing in somebody else’s lockbox.”
“Yes.”
“No guns near them. I know you live in a world where that sentence is a joke. I’m not laughing. No guns where they sleep. None where they eat.”
“Agreed.” He looks surprisingly unruffled by this demand. “Security is separate from a nursery and a kitchen. The house is big.”
“I keep working,” I add. “Maybe not tomorrow. But I’m not becoming a decoration.”
“You don’t become anything you don’t choose.”
“And if I hate it there? If it feels like another kind of cage?”
“You tell me. We fix it, or we build you a separate house and lock a different door.” He looks around my apartment. “But we don’t pretend this is good enough while a man who thinks he owns you is lurking and looking to collect heads.”
My throat hurts. “You’re very good at being reasonable and terrifying at the same time.”
Xander fusses and my mother trades me. I settle him against my shoulder and he sighs like he’s rearranging his tiny soul. The room looks smaller with the bags open and the men’s shoulders near the door. My list runs again in my head—bottles, formula, wipes, blankets, pajamas, chargers, keys—it’s all here. “Ready.”
Roman nods to Marcus. “Car two to the back. We go in three minutes.” Marcus slips out, quick and quiet.
I turn back to Roman because there is still the boulder in the middle of the room with letters carved into it. “The marriage. We don’t know each other.”
He lifts a shoulder. “We know enough. We can know more with coffee tomorrow.”
I look at the boys. One dozes. One stares, serious as a tax form. Memories flash to the forefront. The deli. The knife a year agoand the clean sting and the kind, bored nurse who handed me a new strip of tape and said, “Press here.” How thin our front door is.
“This is nuts,” I say, because it is. “It’s reckless and fast and it sounds like a bad soap opera.”
“Yes. And it’s the only option.”
I breathe. I kiss Xander’s head. I hand him to my mother and wipe my face with the back of my hand, annoyed at myself for the damp there. I face Roman so he can’t mistake me. “Okay. Let’s go.”
8
ROMAN
Wasit the most romantic proposal?
No.
Was it necessary?
Absolutely.
I bring them in through the underground entrance. Marcus takes point. Tanner carries the stroller. Marcus holds the door. The elevator opens into the service hall. The sconces are low and the heated floors radiate through gray stone. The babies cry when the door closes behind us.
Jennifer keeps Yuri on her shoulder. Mina has Xander, one hand cupped at his neck. She looks at the hall, then at me, and nods once. I feel better having them under my roof. I also feel the weight of what I’ve done.
I am marrying this woman. I am going to be a father to these children. Neither will be an easy task. But this is the only way to keep them safe.
It’s a heavy thing, taking on a young family. I’m fifty-three. She’s twenty-seven. Though, to be fair to her, she seems to have aged a bit since I saw her last. Being a single mom will do that to a person.
