Amalie smiles from the passenger seat. “It was, actually.”
“If you aren’t careful, you’ll reach a point where even hot sauce is not enough. You’ll need to put hot coals on your tongue just to feel something.”
She arches her eyebrows. “Roman, was that a joke?”
“I can joke now and then.”
“You should do it more often. It suits you.”
We’re making our way back home after dinner. Surprisingly, I feel satisfied.
“So, rate your first hot chicken experience.”
“It was good.”
“Just good?”
“Very good. And honestly, it was nice to eat someplace humble.”
The memory of Aunt Zina’s was the first of many to break through tonight. Others rushed in, as if being in an eatery like that had broken down a wall I’d built around memories of my youth. It was strange but nice.
“Right,” she says. “Sometimes a place like that is exactly what you need. Along with half of my mac and cheese you ate.”
“That was very good too.”
“I know, that’s why I got it. But next time, get your own.” She winks.
“I will. Or should I say, I’ll have you order it for me.”
Amalie laughs. “There you go. You’re learning.”
When we pull in front of the mansion, Andrei and Sasha step out. Andrei takes the keys to pull the car into its spot in the garage while Sasha rushes toward me like a small missile. I barely have time to brace myself before he slams into my legs.
“Papa!”
I scoop him up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “There’s my littleSashenka.”
“You were gone too long,” he says with a small pout.
“Only a little while. I was getting dinner with Miss Amalie. Did you behave?”
“Mostly.” He follows up his words with a charming, sheepish grin.
“He was fine,” Andrei says as he returns from parking the car. “This young man couldn’t cause trouble if he wanted to.”
“We might have to change that,” I say. “No boyhood is complete without a little mischief.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Amalie says as she ruffles Sasha’s hair. “Plenty of parents would kill for a little man as easy and sweet as him.”
“I’m not sweet,” Sasha retorts.
That gets a laugh out of all of us. Emotion swells in my chest. For a fleeting moment, with Sasha in my arms and all of us joking and laughing together, Amalie feels like she truly belongs?—
Like a family.
Through the laughter, I hear the approaching sirens. Andrei shifts instantly. His hand moves—not for his gun but for his phone. Two black-and-white vehicles roll through the still-open gate, lights flashing, sirens quieted. Behind them, a white sedan with a blue emblem on the door.
Child Protective Services.
