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“Your grandmother.” He smiles. “And a fine name it is.”
“You said they didn’t touch you.” Mischa stands stiffly, staring into a past far beyond this room. “Then who is his father?”
“Mischa!” Vanya lurches to his feet. Anger brims over his face, darkening his eyes. For a brief second, he’s transformed and I see an echo of the man Mischa claimed he used to be. “Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Not now.”
“I-I’m tired.” Anna stands as well, clutching the boy to her chest. He stirs, grumbling, and she cradles his head. “And I should put him down for his nap.”
“I’ll go with you.” Stern-faced, Vanya stands between Mischa and his daughter like a guard, ushering her into the hall.
When they’re out of earshot, I whirl on Mischa.
“Does it matter?” My voice comes out louder than I meant it to—I’m practically shouting. “Who his father is? Does that really matter to you? It’s obvious she loves him—”
“That’s not why…” He shakes his head as his gaze refocuses on me. “You said he kept you in separate rooms?”
Him. Robert.
“Y-yes. Why?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and then storms into the hall. “It’s nothing.”
