And now, thanks to Bella, he’s here.
Until now.
"Can I see my room?"
"Gospodi, kto eto?" Ludmilla’s voice greets us.
Her hands are pressed to her mouth, and her eyes are already bright with tears. She's known about Alessandro since the beginning but she's never met him because Gia was taken away before we could even make it home.
“Dobriy den’,” Alessandro greets Ludmilla.
"This is Ludmilla Iosifovna," I tell him. "She takes care of the house. She took care of me for a very long time."
"Still taking care of you," Ludmilla mutters, not looking away from Alessandro. "Someone has to. You certainly don't do it yourself.”
“Alessandro Slavovich,” he greets her with the solemn formality of a child who’s been around more decorum than he should. “Ochen pryatno.”
“Oh.” Ludmilla tuts. “So polite. There’s no need to be formal with me,malchik. Call me Ludmilla. Come, let me show you to your room.”
Alessandro takes her hand without hesitation and I stand in the foyer, watching them disappear down the hallway, Ludmilla's voice drifting back to me in gentle murmurs.
This is the bathroom, malchik. And here is where I keep the extra blankets. Do you get cold at night? I will make sure you have enough blankets.
The penthouse has never felt this full. It never had the chance to ever feel this full.
I move to the windows, and for once, the skyline glitters like it’s beautiful instead of indifferent. And it’s all because of Bella.
She brought life back into this place.
She brought life back into me.
And I’m taking her out on a real date tomorrow night. I breathe deeply and square my shoulders, feeling my heart speeding up at the thought of doing something so ordinary with her. Every once in a while, I glance down the hall, listening to the sound of Ludmilla introducing Alessandro to different rooms, and think about that question he asked Bella.
Are you going to be my new mama?
I think she could be.
I don't hear Ludmilla return until she's standing beside me, her reflection appearing in the window glass like a ghost.
"He's asleep," she says quietly. "Poor thing. The travel exhausted him."
"He’s a good kid."
We stand in silence for a moment, watching the city lights flicker against the darkness. Then Ludmilla speaks again.
"He looks like her."
"I know."
"It’s his smile, Slavochka. He looks like Gia when he smiles.”
My jaw tightens. "I know."
Ludmilla's hand finds my shoulder and gives it a warm and gentle squeeze. "What finally made you bring him home?"
Home.
"Bella," I admit. "She persuaded me that he’d be safer here than in France. And now that he’s here, I know this was the right decision."
