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She shudders. “You don’t think it’s a little… morbid?”
“I think it’s love. Love can take many different forms.”
She lets out a relieved half-laugh, half-sigh. “They’re not fancy or expensive—” she says, holding up a little red onesie and taking a big whiff of it. “… But they smell like her.”
“Then let’s fold them up and add them to his wardrobe, shall we?” I get to my feet and offer her my hands. She slips them into mine and I pull her up. As she rises, though, she stumbles forward and nearly bumps her chin against my chest. I catch her, wrapping her up in my embrace.
Wren lingers there for a moment, her cheek nestled against the base of my throat. “Thank you for… for everything,” she whispers.
I touch her cheek with the backs of my knuckles. She does that laughing sigh again. That’s love, too, I think to myself. Just another form of it.
With a sigh of my own, I disentangle myself and Wren and I get to work silently. She folds clothes and I stack them up in the steamer trunk, one impossibly small outfit at a time. Compared to the outfits already in there, these are shabby and ill-formed.
But they’re loved. Made with the stuff. Filled with the stuff. Every last fiber straight-up drenched with the stuff.
So, ill-formed or not, they belong on top.
After a while, Wren starts to talk. She tells me little stories about Rose picking out yarn colors or cooing over one miniscule baby sock. She remembers her sister, one anecdote at a time. I just listen and smile and I don’t stop myself from not-so-accidentally grazing her hand as she passes me one item after the next.
That’s love, I think yet again. Just another form of it.
25
WREN
Something’s up.
I may be in happy nesting mode, but that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious. Dmitri’s getting a heck of a lot more calls recently. In the old days, he used to flick them away in favor of giving me his full attention when we were together, but lately, he’s been answering every single one. And he always sounds annoyed. In some cases, downright angry.
Whenever I ask him about what’s going on, he acts as though they’re just standard business calls and nothing is out of the ordinary. But since he’s speaking Russian, it’s pretty clear to me that one, they’re not ordinary business calls, and two, he’s intentionally keeping me in the dark.
But I’ve decided not to let it bother me too much—because the truth is, I kinda like this nesting stage. And I love having a job. A real job. Not the Personal Management Team bullshit that Dmitri once tried to palm off on me.
Of course, Jackson Asshole Mitchell has been curt and cold with me from our very first call. But as long as he doesn’t get rude, I can put up with a little professional saltiness. I did kinda hijack his project; not to mention, I stole his job title to boot. A little sass is justified.
“Another one? Fucking hell, this is getting out of hand!”
I whirl around on my revolving chair and inch closer to the door. That’s definitely Aleks talking, because Dmitri left only a half an hour ago with an advance apology for missing dinner tonight.
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he’d promised. “With interest.”
Then he kissed me on the forehead and headed off—but not before I noticed the frown lines taking up permanent residence on his forehead.
I push open the door and peer around it. Aleks has his back to me. His spine is rigid with tension and he keeps gesturing wildly in the air. He’s a lot more theatrical than Dmitri is. I wonder if that’s a second child thing.
“… I don’t give a fuck, man. Stick to the plan or you’ll have to answer to my brother!” Aleks cuts the line and growls with frustration.
I clear my throat softly.
Aleksandr spins around like I just cocked a gun at him, though. He barely relaxes even when he realizes it’s me. “Wren. What are you doing on this side of the penthouse?”
I hold the door open for him as he walks over to me. “Your brother presented me with my very own office space yesterday.”
Aleks glances at the sleek oak desk, the modern light fixtures, and the colorful carpet on the floor. “He set this up fast.”
“Have you heard? I’m on the payroll now.”
“Right, right. Co-manager on the Montgomery project. Congrats.”
