The back door opens. The twins run in with my father following. Mila has grass stains on her dress. Alexei’s hands are covered in dirt.
“Grandpa showed us the vegetable garden!” Mila announces. “Can we have a garden at home?”
Home. She calls the estate home now.
“We can ask Papa,” I say.
“He’ll say yes,” Alexei says confidently. “Papa always says yes to gardens.”
My mother smiles at me. “See? You’re already trusting him with the important things.”
We stay another hour. The twins play. My father talks about the shipping company and how Luca has been restructuring operations. My mother makes sandwiches no one is hungry for, but we eat anyway because that’s what you do at your parents’ house.
When it’s time to leave, my mother walks us to the car. The twins climb in. She pulls me aside. “Be careful,” she says quietly. “I meant what I said about giving him a chance. But don’t lose yourself in the process. Men like Luca are used to control. Make sure you keep some for yourself.”
“I will.”
“And, Anna? If you’re happy, let yourself be happy. You deserve that.”
She hugs me. Kisses my cheek. Waves at the twins as we pull away.
On the drive home, Mila falls asleep against the window. Alexei plays with his toy train. I think about my mother’s words.
Give him a chance. Don’t lose yourself. Let yourself be happy.
All easier said than done.
The estate comes into view. Home. When did I start thinking of it that way?
We pull into the driveway. Luca is outside with Maxim, looking at something on a tablet. They both look up when the car stops.
Luca walks over and opens my door. “How was the visit?”
“Good. The twins told them about pancakes.”
“I’m sure Viktor was thrilled.”
“Actually, he seemed happy. They’re both happy that the twins are happy.”
Alexei climbs out of the backseat. “Papa, can we have a garden? Grandpa has vegetables, and Mila wants flowers.”
“We can have a garden. We’ll plan it this week.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Alexei runs off to tell Maxim about the garden plan. Luca helps me get sleeping Mila out of her car seat. She doesn’t wake. Just curls against his chest while he carries her inside.
I follow them up to her room. Watch him lay her down gently. Pull off her grass-stained dress and tuck her under the covers. Kiss her forehead.
He’s good at this. Being a father. Being present.
Being mine.
We leave Mila’s room. Stand in the hallway between the twins’ doors.
“My mother said something,” I tell him.
