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I pull Sylvia to sit in my lap while Stella starts asking Sergey all about Russia, which is where he’s from. He genuinely doesn’t seem to mind telling her everything she wants to know and he adds on to answer more than her questions. I have to admit I’m a bit curious about him being married. I didn’t know he was married. He doesn’t wear a ring. But the last thing I need to do is turn into my wife. That’s his business and none of mine.
Soon, Sylvia pulls the girls away for a much-needed bath and Sergey thanks us for dinner before he makes his escape. I change into a pair of pajamas before slipping into the bathroom.
“He seems nice,” Sylvia says as I lean against the door.
“Yeah, seems to be. How was the day with Lizzy?”
“We got new bears,” Stephanie answers. “Mine is wearing a tutu!”
“Mine is a baker.” Stella frowns. “They were out of skates and jerseys; only had stupid football stuff.”
I listen as the three of them alternate in telling me about their visit to the nail salon, shopping, and going to the playground. Once they’re all dried and dressed, we move to their bedroom. Sylvia takes Stephanie and I get Stella. We brush their hair until it’s free of tangles.
“Daddy, will you read to us tonight?” Stella asks.
“Of course.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Sylvia teases.
“Daddy’s better,” Stephanie says bluntly.
“Don’t y’all love me at all?”
“Duh, Momma.” Stephanie rolls her eyes. “You’re good at cooking and—”
“You help us with our homework,” Stella finishes.
“I get it,” Sylvia waves them off. “Daddy gets to do all the fun stuff.”
“You take us shopping and get our nails done,” Stephanie points out.
“We’re equally awesome, aren’t we?” I ask them. That, they can agree on. I’d like to think our kids love us equally just like we love them equally, but Stella is more of a daddy’s girl than Stephanie is. Stephanie is a lot like Sylvia. She might not be hers biologically, but she takes after her nonetheless.
With their hair tangle-free, we get them tucked into bed. I grab a book and sit on the floor between their beds in my normal reading spot. The girls lie on the edge of their beds so they can peer down and look at the pictures. Sylvia leaves us, like she sometimes does. I think she likes them to have time with just me, especially if it’s during hockey season.
The girls fall asleep quickly tonight. Their day must’ve worn them out. I quietly leave to find Sylvia. She’s washing dishes. We have a dishwasher, but it never gets used. For some odd reason, she likes to do them by hand. I take my place next to her to take over rinsing duties.
“This kid better like me more than you,” she blurts out.
I laugh. “You know they love you.”
“Yeah, but you’re their favorite.” She pauses, her hands freezing over the plate. “It feels weird to say something lighthearted like that.”
“Lighthearted is good, Sylvie,” I reassure her.
“I keep thinking of all these things we need to do, like transform the guest bedroom into a nursery, but at the same time...” Her voice trails off.
At the same time, she doesn’t want to start a process only to have to revert things back to the way they were for one reason or another. “Make a list,” I tell her, “of everything we’ll need to do, and every week, we’ll do one or two things and that’s it. The further along you are, the better you’ll feel. How’d Lizzy react?”
“She’s convinced that since I got pregnant in the first place that it’ll all work out.”
“I like the way she thinks.”
Sylvia laughs. “She’s also very excited for us.”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to try to make another appointment Wednesday. I want to make sure you can come before things get crazy and you’re gone for that big road trip. Plus, I wasn’t exactly listening last time, so I figured a redo would be great.”
