"Mychildren?"
"When they're feral, they're yours. When they're angels, they're mine."
He laughs, low and warm, and I feel it vibrate through me. "Fair enough. What time is Viktor arriving?"
"Around eleven. Isabella said Sofia has been talking about seeing Vera for weeks."
"Sofia is ten now?"
"Ten going on thirty, according to Isabella." I flip a pancake. "And Miron is seven. He's apparently going through a phase where he wants to be exactly like his father, which is terrifying everyone."
"Viktor must be thrilled."
"Viktor is apparently teaching him knife throwing."
"Sounds right."
***
By eleven, the house is marginally less chaotic.
The children have been fed, dressed in clothes that mostly match, and threatened with consequences if they misbehave in front of guests. Nika is down for her morning nap. I've managed to shower and put on an actual dress—maternity, but still cute—and Leonid has made coffee strong enough to wake the dead.
The doorbell rings, and Vera bolts for it before anyone can stop her.
"Sofia!"
The door flies open to reveal Viktor Morozov—Leonid's cousin, equally massive, equally terrifying, equally capable of killing a man twelve different ways—carrying a bakery box and wearing an expression of patient resignation.
Behind him, Isabella is trying to wrangle Miron, who is already asking if Uncle Leonid has any cool weapons he can see. Sofia steps inside more calmly, then spots Vera and her whole face softens.
"Hi, little one," she says, crouching down. "I brought you something." She pulls a hair ribbon from her pocket—sparkly, pink. Vera's eyes go wide.
"For me?"
"For you. Want me to put it in your hair?"
Vera nods frantically and grabs Sofia's hand, dragging her toward her room. Sofia shoots me an amused look over her shoulder—ten going on thirty, just like Isabella said.
"She listens to me about as well as her mother does," Viktor tells Leonid, watching Miron disappear into the house.
"I heard that," Isabella calls, herding Miron inside. She spots me and her face lights up. "Lily! Look at you—you're glowing."
"I'm sweating. It's ninety degrees and I'm enormous."
"You're beautiful." She hugs me carefully around my belly. "Four kids. You're a braver woman than me."
"Or crazier."
"Both. Definitely both." She pulls back, grinning. "Though we're talking about number three, so maybe I'll catch up."
Viktor makes a sound that might be approval or might be terror. With him, it's hard to tell.
The afternoon unfolds the way family gatherings should.
The kids spread out in the backyard. Sofia has set herself up on a blanket with Vera, patiently teaching her some clapping game while Vera giggles and messes up the rhythm. Sasha trails after Miron with naked hero worship.
"Show me! Show me!" Sasha demands, bouncing on his toes.
