“Sadie!” Babushka called as they entered the kitchen, as though they were the best of friends.
They were off to the races…
Sadie, to her credit, kept her composure intact.
Babushka linked her arm through Sadie’s, pulling her away from Roman. “This is the daughter I never had.”
“I thought I was the daughter you never had?” Heather asked, clearly feigning distress.
Babushka linked her other arm with Heather’s. “You both are.”
“And I’m…?” Roman’s mom asked.
Babushka brushed her off like the last generation’s news.
Mom didn’t seem to care. She simply rolled her eyes at Babushka and went back to fixing a cocktail that appeared to have champagne, vodka, and lemon zest involved. Finishing the drink with a quick squeeze of lemon, she offered the beverage to Sadie.
“You must be Sadie,” she said.
Like the pro she was, Sadie took the champagne flute with a side glance toward Roman. “I am.”
“Well, good luck then,” his mother said. “Might I suggest an abundance of the mashed potatoes this evening?” Her eyes sparkled like she’d just let Sadie in on an inside joke.
“Loads of the potatoes. Or, you know, just skip the extra starch and go for the bottle.” Heather jerked her head toward the bottle of premium Russian vodka on the countertop.
Roman’s mom and Heather laughed like they were in on the biggest of all secrets.
“Hey, Rome?” Zach called.
Roman turned toward him, eyebrows raised.
“Yoo-hoo,” Zach replied in a high-pitched voice. He gave a two-fingered wave followed by giggles.
Sonofabitch. Roman’s entire face heated. This shit, right here, was why he’d stayed away for so long. War zones had nothing on his family.
They wasted no time embarrassing the shit out of him. “You’re going there?” he asked. “Serious?”
“Going where?” Zach asked, Babushka’s patented mock sincerity shining through. Clearly, it was genetic.
“Get it all out now,” Roman invited, gesturing to himself.
“What’s going on?” Sadie whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Roman got a Polaroid camera when he was five,” Dad explained, his booming baritone drawing all eyes to him. “He took photos of anything that stood still. Before he clicked the shutter, he’d get people’s attention by shouting, ‘yoo-hoo.’ It sounded an awful lot like Lou Who.”
“So we named the camera Lou,” Mom added in for good measure. As though “yoo-hoo” wasn’t embarrassing enough.
“Louise?” Sadie asked.
Roman shook his head. “Her predecessor, Lou.”
Lou was immortalized in a glass frame that hung on the wall in the den.
“That’s so cute.” Sadie’s cheeks dimpled with her smile.
“Cute is what I’m going for,” Roman replied. That’s why he spent a fuckton of hours lifting weights every week.
“Who is tying who to which appliance?” Anna asked.
