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I inhale and exhale slowly. “I’m freaking out.”
“You are,” he agrees. “Which is why you’re going to stop touching everything and trust that it will all work out. You like to eat at the kitchen island, so do that. Do what you are comfortable with and forget about appearances or what anyone else will think. Be yourself. That is enough.”
I’m obviously teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, because Niles’ little speech has me holding back tears.
“Niles, I—just, thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done today. But therapy sessions are probably outside of your job description. You can go. I’ll figure this all out on my own.”
“Anything Mr. Pushkin asks me to do is within my job description.”
It takes me a second to register what he’s saying. “Hold on—did Ivan ask you to help me?”
“He was worried about you,” he says by way of explanation. “And he told me that if you were spiraling, I was supposed to grab your shoulders and tell you to take a deep breath.”
I’d be mad that Ivan thinks I need to be managed if it hadn’t worked so well.
“Did he tell you to give me a pep talk, too?”
He shakes his head. “No. That was my choice. Did it help?”
I smile. “Yeah. It did. Thank you.”
Sometimes, I forget that along with Ivan, Anya, Lev, and Yasha, I also gained an entire Bratva. A family who will support me and take care of me. Including Niles.
I’m almost at ease when the doorbell rings. As soon as it does, I stiffen and my anxiety ramps right back up to eleven out of ten.
Then Niles lays a hand on my shoulder once more. “You’ll be fine, madam. I’ll answer the door and escort him to the kitchen.”
I’m too nervous to do anything more than nod and head in the direction Niles points. It’s my own dad. No one should be this nervous to see their own dad.
Then again, no one should be forcefully separated from their dad and live on the streets as a teenager. But shit happens.
Dinner is keeping warm in the oven and, as soon as I step into the kitchen and the swirling aroma of roasted meat and potatoes, I know Niles is right. This is the gathering place. Where Ivan and I make coffee in the morning. Where Anya paints her nails while Lev and Ivan talk out on the patio. It’s the heart of the house and I’m comfortable here.
I’m also very glad I swapped out my dress for a pair of dark wash jeans at the last minute.
Be myself. I’m enough.
I repeat those words to myself over and over again, but I’m still standing awkwardly by the island when Niles walks into the kitchen with my dad right behind him.
“I’ll get you both some drinks and then come back in a few minutes for dinner.” Niles ushers him into the room and then tosses me a subtle wink before he disappears.
My dad and I stare at each other for a second before he holds out the bouquet of flowers I didn’t even register he was holding. “These are for you.”
“Oh. Wow. Thank you.” I fumble with them for a second, our hands brushing awkwardly.
I can’t believe I used to hug this man and let him read me stories before bed. He’s a stranger now in every way that matters.
“Niles keeps the vases… somewhere.” I gesture vaguely towards the pantry. “He’ll put these in one later.”
“Before he does, make sure you get this out.” He reaches out and plucks something out of the center of the bouquet. “It’s my poor attempt at an edible arrangement of sorts. I remember you liking those.”
I’m not sure what he’s holding until he flips the white bag over.
“Is that saltwater taffy?”
He smiles. “From that shop we used to go to. Marina’s Confectionery. It’s still open. They moved to a bigger location, but they still make taffy. Isn’t that wild?”
Instantly, crystal-clear memories of hopping down the sidewalk hand-in-hand with my dad flood back to me. Every so often, he’d take me with him to the hardware store. Afterwards, we’d walk down the block and buy a bouquet from the flower stand and a bag of saltwater taffy from Marina’s. I’d ration out the taffy for weeks afterward, eating only one piece or half a piece per day to make it last.
