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He’s staring at Misha, watching his posture.

11

ALEXEI

Misha points toward the corridor with the same sharp little gesture I use when giving orders. Elena notices. Cara and Sergei do too.

I stop in the doorway and brace one hand against the frame. My fever broke before dawn, and the dressing is still dry, but Vera notices how much weight I’m putting on my arm. Misha lifts his chin and rubs one hand over his jaw, copying me.

I look down at him. “What are you doing?”

“Rubbing my beard.”

Cara presses her lips together, while Elena hides a laugh behind a cough.

Mikhail gives him a patient look, his hand still tucked into Cara’s. “You don’t have a beard. Only grown-ups do.”

Misha thinks about this, then rubs his jaw again. “I’m grown-up.”

This time, Elena laughs.

Mikhail scoffs. “You can’t be him. You play with that.” His gaze drops to the battered yellow race car beside Misha’s knee.

Vera said he’s three. She and I were together for one night four years ago, and I’ve spent all morning refusing to count backward.

Cara gives his hand a small tug. “Another time. We should get you to your room before you teach him anything else.”

“That was your gentle approach?” Elena asks.

“By my standards, yes.” Cara smiles.

Then she stops beside Vera. “Make him tell you everything.”

I raise an eyebrow.

Cara gives me a small smile and takes Mikhail’s hand. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Mikhail pulls back. “I want to stay with Misha.”

Elena looks at Cara. “Let him stay.”

Cara hesitates, then lets go of his hand. “Sergei, stay with the boys.”

Elena shifts Lev higher against her shoulder as she and Cara head into the corridor. Sergei stays back. Mrs. Wentworth motions for a maid to take Lev’s diaper bag.

Lidiya remains near the counter, washing dishes.

I step inside. “Lidiya, take the boys to the playroom,” I say, nodding toward the corridor.

Lidiya wipes her hands on her apron and crouches beside Misha. “We have cars, blocks, and snacks that don’t require forks,” she tells him, holding out her hand.

Misha points at Vera and moves closer to her leg. “Mama comes.”

Vera keeps her eyes on me as she rests a hand on his hair. “Mama has to speak with Alexei.”

His mouth turns down. “He makes bad faces,” he warns her, glancing at me.

Mikhail pats Misha’s shoulder. “My papa does that. It means work.”