I watch her longer than I mean to. Eight years later, the sight of her still nearly undoes me. She is a perfect specimen, probably crafted by God himself specifically for me.
She opens her eyes without turning her head.
“You’re staring at me,” she says with a hint of irritation.
“I’m allowed,” I say. “You’re my wife.”
Her mouth curves, slow and familiar. “And it never gets less creepy when I catch you doing it,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me.
I lunge at her, grabbing her waist and pulling her under water with me. We emerge a second later laughing and she splashes me hard with water. I splash her back, and soon our very adult, very expensive hotel pool is the scene of an incredibly childish water fight.
“I give up,” I finally say in surrender, sputtering out the water that’s gone in my mouth. “You win.”
“And don’t you forget it!” she answers triumphantly.
“I’m always happy for you to win, Mrs. Markova,” I tell her, moving closer and kissing her gently.
She sighs against my mouth and we float there in a casual embrace for a long time, just watching the sun go down.
“I miss them,” she says quietly as the air starts to shift a bit and become chilly.
I don’t have to ask who.
“Drey tried to ride the dog yesterday,” I tell her. “Petya sent me the video.”
She laughs under her breath, the sound warm and tired and full all at once.
“That dog is going to bite him one day,” she says sternly. “And we won’t even be able to punish it because it’ll be his fault.”
“Apparently, Sonya took care of that,” I tell her. “She bit him hard on the arm and told him to leave the dog alone.”
Alina winces. “That doesn’t make me feel better,” she says, swimming toward the edge of the pool and getting out. “We’re going to have to deal with her biting. Her daycare teacher sent home a note last week.”
“I’ll just send the school some money. That’ll smooth it over.”
“That’s not the point,” she says, fixing me with a glare. “We’ve got to discipline her or she’ll never learn to behave.”
“I wasn’t disciplined much as a child,” I say, getting out after her. “I think I turned out okay.”
“Sure you did, babe,” she says rolling her eyes.
We towel off and go back into the room.
“I still feel guilty leaving them,” she admits as she heads toward the bathroom.
“They’re with your father,” I remind her. “And twenty armed men.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t miss them,” she calls to me. “They’re growing so fast. What if we get home and they don’t even remember who we are.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
“It’s only been a week,” I remind her. “And we fly home on Friday. You’re allowed to enjoy a vacation without kids.”
“Nope,” she argues petulantly. “That wasn’t in any of the parenting books I read.”
“Then let’s write a new one,” I suggest. “A full guide on how to leave your children alone with nannies and guards.”
“Drey would love the beach.” She sighs, ignoring me. “And Sonya would go crazy for that pool. She’s such a little fish these days.”
