The garage is open, morning air spilling in with the smell of oil and steel. I make my way in, silently enough to overhear as much of Piotr interrogating Dominik as I can before they both discover my espionage. I watch them through the crack between the hinges, the hood of an old Opel lifted like a curtain on their conversation.
Dominik takes time rolling up his sleeves, setting the tool box between them, an orchestra of man-code, then slaps Piotr on the back. “I’m here to pay my toll.”
Piotr doesn’t look up. “Which one’s that?”
“The one for dating your siostrzyczka,(little sister)” Dominik says, leaning against the wall with a grin. “I was told it costs sweat and humility.”
That gets Piotr’s attention. He turns his head, rag tossed over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Humility? Fromyou?”
Dominik laughs, crossing to the toolbox. “Come on, I was neverthatbad. Besides, youknowhow I feel about Kasia.”
Piotr studies him for a second, then nods. “Iknowyou’ve alwayswantedher, those fucking puppy eyeswhenever she was around. Always thought it was a crush, or some fantasy cooked up from too muchpornand not enough sense.” He wipes his hands on the rag, looks up, voice steady. “This time, I helped you with her, becauseI trust you. I watched you after Lena left, watched you raise Zosia on your own. You grew up. I put my neck out for you,brat. So don’t let me down. Be serious about it, don’t hurt her. Or I'll have to beherbig brother over yours.”
Dominik doesn’t flinch. He just nods once, firm. “We didn’t get less serious last night, Piotr, we gotmore. If it's anything to go by, I'll sign us up for Pre-Cana today.”
“No wez!(Come on!)” Piotr groans, throwing up his hands. “She's still my siostrzyczka, I don’t need the details. Keep it to yourself.”
Dominik bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he hands him a wrench he never asked for, “Deal.”
Piotr smirks, grabbing the other end of the wrench. “Good. Now grab the jack. You’re not leaving without grease on your hands.”
Dominik chuckles, crouches to grab the jack, then joins beside him as the clang of tools and sound of the radio fill the space again, two men working shoulder to shoulder, testing and proving, the weight behind their easy banter unspoken but understood.
When he steps out to grab another tool Piotr sends him for, he catches me eavesdropping. I freeze, spin around, leaning against the car like it was all part of the plan. He huffs a laugh. “Satisfied? Heard enough?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, all innocence. “I just came to saygood morningto my brother.”
He keeps his eyes on me, but calls out, “Piotr, doktorka’s here to give her morning greetings.”
Piotr doesn’t even look up from the engine. “She was never good at listening through my door as a kid either, as graceful as a buffalo.If she’s done spying, she can fix something or let the men get back to work.”
Dominik cracks up, and I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Good morning to you too, brother!”
“Dzien dobry, siostra. Daj mi piwo,(Good morning, sister. Grab me a beer)" Piotr shoots back.
Dominik just shrugs, gives me a quick peck before turning back toward the car. I sigh, muttering under my breath as I march off toward the fridge. It's too early for beer. Too early for his teasing.
When I bring the beers, they’re laughing, hands streaked with oil, radio still playing that same old ballad. I stand back a moment, watching them, the morning sun catching in Dominik’s hair, on Piotr’s grin, and for a moment it feels like the world’s exactly as it should be.
When lunchtime rolls around, everyone crowds the kitchen. Aga calls from the stove, Kacper perched on her hip again, watching her cook contentedly. The aroma of roasted meat and dill waft through the house. Piotr presses a kiss to her temple, another to the bump under her shirt she’s trying to hide. “Two down, maybe this one will listen,” he jokes, and she swats him, laughing.
Dominik slides in behind me, his arm brushing mine as I set the table. “Feels like a new tradition starting,” he murmurs, and it does.
After we eat, the men drift back to the garage, arguing about carburetors, while Zosia and I claim the sofa. She curls up against me, my phone in hand as we play a silly game together. Each time she wins, she beams, pointing at the screen. “Auntie Kasia, I won!”
I cheer like she’s conquered the world. “Of course you did, kochanie.”
Aga joins us, settling into Piotr’s chair, feeding Kacper and rocking him until his eyelids flutter closed, the house feels full.
Later, when the men come back smelling like oil and sweat taking turns in the shower, we start dinner together. Me, Aga, and Zosia, rolling dough and chopping onions, making pierogi the way our mothers and grandmothers did. Zosia dusts flour across the counter like snow, giggling as she presses each dumpling closed.
When we finally all sit down, it feels easy, peaceful. Like it’s always been this way. Dominik sits across from me, laughing at something Piotr says, and I realize how rarely I’ve stopped to just take this in, all of it. Family, laughter, warmth. Maybe I’ve been too busy with work, too tangled in my own head to notice how much this smile, this life, already has its arms open for me.
The drive home is peaceful at first. Zosia’s asleep in the backseat, a drawing crumpled in her small hand. The streetlights slide across the windshield, soft and golden. Dominik reaches for the stereo, scrolling through stations until the opening chords of my favorite song by The Riven Altar fill the car. My stomach drops. I freeze, then reach over quickly to switch it off.
“What?” he asks, glancing over. “I thought you loved them?”
“I do,” I say too fast. “I just… don’t want to wake Zosia.”
