Page 26 of A Surprise Baby for the Russian

“I think Matvei’s struggling with the whole not being in control thing.”

“You don’t say?” She laughs. “So… we’ll be seeing you soon?”

“Two weeks, apparently.”

“And how are you feeling, really?”

I look up at the ceiling. How am I really? I am tangled up in a web of feelings I am not ready to say out loud to anyone—least of all Selene at the moment. She’s not exactly going to want to hear about the mind-blowing sex I had with her brother, is she?

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Really. Better than I probably should be.”

There’s a pause on the line that tells me she hears everything I’m leaving unsaid. “Good,” she says carefully. “I don’t know how you’re going to handle the... other situation. When you come back.”

“What other situation?”

“Er… The fact that you two are, technically, legally married.”

“We’ll work it out, but until we’re back, I don’t want them to know. That puts you in a crappy position, and I’m sorry, but I need you to hold the line for me anyway.”

Selene lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know. I really am.”

We hang up. Ten minutes later, Sofie blows up my phone.

“Okay, so Simon told Selene, who told me that you’re coming back soon, thank god, because I never realized how knackering all these nieces and nephews were until you weren’t here to pick up the slack.”

“Ah, it’s nice to be recognized finally.”

“You should have heard Matvei doing bedtime stories on Tuesday; it was hilarious. The kids told him he made a really good troll, and I tried not to choke. You should have seen his face; he didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. He leaves a lot to be desired as a princess, though. To quote the kids, “you suck!”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it—the first easy one in what feels like weeks.

“So, how are you holding up? Has it been safe? No word from his family, nobody’s tried anything since—”

“It’s been quiet. Yakov’s careful. We haven’t had any trouble.”

“Good. That’s—good.” Sofie exhales, and for a second she sounds so much older than nineteen that it catches me off guard. “I hate this, by the way. I hate that you’re out there and we can’t just sit in the kitchen drinking wine and gossiping.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Two weeks, though.”

“Two weeks,” I agree. “Love you, speak soon”

“Love you too!”

We hang up, and I sit there, staring at the blank screen for a few minutes.

I need to do something with my hands before I lose my mind, so I head into the kitchen to start making dinner. I’m barely thirty seconds into hunting for a chopping board when Yakov appears in the doorway. He takes in the scene, walks inside, and starts helping without a word of discussion, moving around the tight space, finding the garlic, setting out a knife, and falling into perfect rhythm alongside me.

There is something about being side-by-side, both staring down at a chopping board, that makes talking so much easier.

“Can I ask you something?” I say, somewhere between the onions and the garlic.

“You can ask me anything.”

“That’s not the same as promising you’ll answer.”