Maxim takes it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But if you’re mean again, I’m taking it back.”
“That’s fair.”
Anna is standing beside me now. Watching the scene unfold with an expression I can’t read.
“He’s trying,” I say quietly.
“I can see that.”
“Is it enough?”
“For now. We’ll see if it lasts.”
Maxim stays for lunch. Sits between the twins and listens to Alexei’s exhaustive explanation of train engineering. Admires Mila’s flower crown. Apologizes to Anna again with actual sincerity. When he leaves three hours later, the twins wave goodbye.
“Is he still mean?” Mila asks after his car disappears.
“He’s working on not being mean,” I tell her. “That’s a good start.”
24
ANNA
Sunday morning smellslike pancakes and coffee.
I come downstairs to find Luca at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes while Alexei stands on a step stool beside him, carefully pouring batter into the pan. Mila sits at the kitchen island, swinging her legs and eating strawberries straight from the bowl.
“Mama!” She waves a strawberry at me. “Papa is teaching Alexei how to make pancakes!”
She says it so naturally now. Like he’s always been Papa and never anything else.
“I can see that. Are you helping?”
“I’m the taste tester. It’s a very important job.”
Luca glances over his shoulder at me. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He’s barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt. Hair still damp from the shower. Completely at ease in this domestic scene, like he’s been making Sunday pancakes for years instead of weeks.
“This one is ready,” Alexei announces. He slides the pancake onto a plate with Luca’s guidance. “Can I do another?”
“One more. Then it’s your sister’s turn.”
“I don’t want a turn,” Mila says. “I want to eat pancakes.”
“You can do both.”
I pour myself coffee and lean against the counter. Watch my son concentrate on pouring batter in a perfect circle. Watch Luca’s hand hover near Alexei’s in case he needs help, but not interfering. Watch my daughter steal another strawberry and grin at me like she’s getting away with something.
This is my life now. Somehow.
The front door opens. Footsteps in the hallway. Maxim appears in the kitchen doorway carrying a bag from the bakery. “I brought pastries,” he says. “Am I late?”
“Right on time,” Luca tells him. “Grab a plate.”
