He laughs. “When I was younger, I was always out. Parties, work, girls, beer or vodka. If one was on, I'd watch it.”
I smile, though something pangs in my chest.
“Books?”
“Do manuals for car engines count? Read plenty helping Piotr. I don't think your brothercan actually read. He had me readso manyto him under the hood of a car.”
I laugh again, lighter than I feel. “Hobbies?”
“World Cup I guess. Piotr and I make a big thing of it, a party for each round. Drives poor Aga crazy, so loud. Beer bottles everywhere. Shame it's only every four years.” He shrugs.
“I remember, I went to one, once.Never again.” He chuckles, squeezing me tighter.
“Hard to have a life when I work long hours. I come home, cook, sleep. Since Zosia, all my time belongs to her. Maybe my favorite show is Peppa Pig? Song is... Baby Shark?”
That earns real laughter, even as something smaller flickers beneath it. But before I can name it, he tilts my chin toward him.
“Maybe now we have each other,” he says softly, “I can make space for all that, with you? Hm?”
The words catch in my throat. Before I can answer, he kisses me. It starts slow, a question. Then deepens, his fingers tracing along my jaw, down the line of my neck. The warmth spreads until it’s hard to breathe. His hand slides back to my throat, just enough to pull me closer.
He murmurs against my lips, voice dark and hungry, “Time for the adults totalk.”
I laugh, breathless. “Talk, huh?”
“Very importantdiscussion,” he says, already standing, tugging me to my feet. I barely have time to straighten before his hand closes around mine, leading me down the hall toward the bedroom.
As I follow, something in me whispers thatthisis where my focus should be. Here. Now. Not echoes in another time zone. Not mysilence that feels like withdrawal. Just this: Dominik’s warmth, his certainty, his world, and me, still trying to believeI belong in it.
Chapter 23
That’s For Mama
Morning comes too soon. The pale blue light from the window has turned golden, the rain gone, the world alive again. Zosia’s voice filters through the crack under the bedroom door, little feet thumping down the hall, a squeal about something on the TV.
I stretch, sore in every possible way one body can make another, and I smile. I actually brought clothes this time, too. My scrubs folded in a small bag by the door, toothbrush and toothpaste, even my makeup bag. I can hear Dominik moving around in the kitchen, mug clinking, kettle hissing, his whistle mixing with the cartoon sounds from the living room. When I step out, he looks up, hair still damp from a shower, t-shirt clinging to his shoulders. The smile that spreads across his face is simple, domestic but devastating. “You’re early,” he says. “I was going to bring you coffee in bed. Fool you into thinking I'm a gentleman.”
I grin. “You? A gentleman? I’d have to see proof after last night.”
He pours me a mug anyway and gestures toward the table, where Zosia sits on her knees in a chair, already busy coloring. A few stray crayons are rolling dangerously close to the edge.
“I brought some things,” I tell him. “A few clothes, toiletries, so I can get ready here.”
He leans a hip against the counter, watching me over the rim of his coffee cup. “You should start leaving them here,” he says easily. “Then you don’t have to think about it. Stay whenever.”
Something in me stills, the words hanging there heavier than they sound.
I nod, smiling softly. “Okay, I’ll leave the toiletries. I’ll buy new ones on the way home.”
Zosia looks up from her coloring, waving the crayon in triumph. “Auntie Kasia, look! At school yesterday! We made elephants!”
I crouch beside her, “I can tell, you’re a natural artist. The elephants look like they’re having a whole conversation.”
She beams, proud.
Dominik flips a waffle onto her plate. “Eggos this morning, gourmet dining.”
I laugh. “Fancy.”
