Her eyes pop open instantly. “Fort?”
Dominik lifts a brow at me as I carry her upstairs to Piotr and Aga’s bedroom. “A fort?”
“It’s tradition,” I say firmly. “Babciu used to make us little caves of blankets whenever we stayed over. Said monsters couldn’t find us if we spoke only in Polish under them.”
“Sounds like your Babciu,” he says, voice low and amused.
“She forced us to speak Polish all night,” I add, grinning. “Piotr used to fall asleep halfway through his sentences.”
Dominik chuckles, while I shake out a blanket and Zosia piles pillows. Together, we build a crooked little hideaway at the foot of Aga’s and Piotr’s bed. Zosia wriggles inside clutching one of Kacper's stuffed bears, delighted. “Ale fajnie!” she declares, voice muffled under the sheet.
“Sleep, dragon slayer,” I murmur, tucking the blanket edge tight.
We tiptoe back out, and Dominik settles Kacper into his crib. The baby sighs, fists clenching in sleep. For a moment we both just stand there, watching his tiny chest rise and fall, caught in the spell of him. Then, like people waking from a trance, we drift down to the kitchen.
The place looks like a battlefield: toys, dishes, bottles. We start picking it all up without speaking, the rhythm strangely easy, natural.I rinse plates at the sink while he dries, our shoulders brushing now and then in the small space.
Finally, I glance sideways. “So this was your plan?”
He blinks. “My plan?”
“Yes.” I wave the soapy sponge at him. “Trap me here with two kids, force me into fort construction, show off your baby-whisperer routine.”
His smile crooks slow, but there’s sincerity under it. “You think I could convince Piotr and Aga to risk their date night? This is a miracle only their combined stubbornness could pull off.”
I laugh, shaking my head, but something in the air softens. He leans back against the counter, watching me with an openness that makes my chest tight.
“You take to it,” he says. “A natural.”
I scoff, rinsing another plate. “Too much babysitting the cousins, that’s all. Doesn’t mean I’m built for it.”
But he doesn’t let it go. “Lena… she never really wanted to be a mother. Not in her heart, everything about it seemed toirritateher. But you—” his gaze flicks toward the fort Zosia's tucked into upstairs, then back to me “on you it looks easy.”
I freeze with the dish towel in my hand. “Easy?”
“Like it belongs to you,matczyna milosc (motherly love).” he says simply.
Something flickers through me. Too much, too tender. I deflect fast. “Well, you clearly love it, being a father.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Guess so. My heart was wrapped around Zosia the minute I saw her, can't imagine a different life now.”
The silence that follows is heavy, charged. I turn, bumping into him by the fridge, his shoulder broad against mine, his hand brushing mine as he reaches for a towel. Close, the kind of close that makes my breathfalter, that pulls my gaze up to his mouth before I can stop myself. His eyes drop to mine and everything slows.
Kacper whimpers from his room, bursting into cries. We both startle, the spell shattered. He scrubs a hand down his face, mutters something about checking his diaper. I grip the counter hard enough to sting, reminding myself to breathe. Dominik disappears upstairs to settle Kacper. I sink onto the couch, heart still hammering from that almost-kiss in the kitchen, cracking open the book Zosia pressed into my hands earlier. The words blur; I’m not really reading, just trying to steady myself.
A few minutes later, the soft pad of footsteps makes me look up. Dominik leans against railing, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Dragon defeated. Baby asleep.”
I roll my eyes, holding up the book. “I’m on page three. Clearly, I’m winning too.”
He chuckles and drops onto the couch beside me, close enough that the cushion dips under his weight and I catch the faint scent of baby powder clinging to his shirt. For a moment, we just sit there, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in sync.
When I glance over, his gaze is already on me.
“Kasia—” he starts, voice low.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s both of us. His mouth finds mine, all the distance I’ve tried to keep snaps like a bowstring. I laugh against him, half-delirious, because this is insane, we’re on Aga and Piotr’s couch, kids asleep upstairs.
He laughs too, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Shhh, doktorka, you’ll wake them.”
