“Andrea,” she says. “But everyone calls me Andi.”
“Everyone?” I ask, amused.
She nods seriously. “Except my teacher, because she’s mean. But she’s not my teacher anymore! I’m going to have a new teacher when I start school here.” She bounces on her toes.
A quiet snort escapes me before I can stop it.
Dima looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.
“Here?” I ask, suddenly worried that I’m being infiltrated.
She nods. “In Bar—” her face squiggles up as she tries to think of the rest of the name, and can’t. “In Maine. Mommy bought a house! In a few days, I get to decorate my bedroom. But first I wanted to see where Mom worked, and Grandma couldn’t come with us, so she brought me here.”
“You’re very confident, Andi,” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies, shrugging like this is a universally acknowledged truth. Then she squints at me, steps closer, and points to my mouth. “Why is that tooth silver?”
The room stills.
My canine is usually the last thing people mention. And it isn’t silver; it’s brass, dull. My men know it’s a sign of the world I came from. Women pretend not to stare at it. Enemies see it as the last detail before their lives end.
But this tiny girl? She just looks curious.
I open my mouth—literally, to answer her—and a sharp gasp cuts across the room.
Roxy stands in the doorway.
Her face is flushed, breath slightly uneven, hair wind-tossed like she half-jogged the last stretch of the hallway. God, she’s beautiful. Her eyes flick between Andi and me. Then, the sudden realization in her expression hits like a blow.
She looks mortified.
“I—I am so sorry,” she says, stepping inside and reaching for her daughter’s shoulders. “She wandered off. We took our eyes off her for one second, literally one second, and?—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt gently.
But Roxy is already spiraling. “No, really, she shouldn’t be in here. She knows better than to go exploring in other people’s houses, and I’m so sorry if she bothered you, or if she?—”
“She asked about my tooth,” I say.
Roxy freezes. Her face drains of color, then floods with it again. Mortification again.
“Andi,” she whispers, horrified, turning her daughter to face her as she crouches down. “Sweetheart, we don’t ask people about their?—”
“But it’s pretty,” Andi says defensively. “And shiny. And you said questions are okay if they’re polite.”
Roxy covers her face with both hands.
I find myself smiling without meaning to. My guard lowers in spite of myself, in spite of everything.
Children don’t fear what they haven’t been taught to fear. For the first time in a long time, I feel like… just a man. And I don’t hate it.
It is disarming in a way I’m not prepared for.
“I was just going to eat breakfast downstairs,” I say, surprising even myself with the softness in my voice. “You’re welcome to join me.” Dima glances at me quickly.
Roxy’s head jerks up, eyes wide.
“Oh—we—we don’t want to intrude. I had a few things to tie up today before taking tonight and tomorrow morning off. If that’s okay.”
