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I show up exactly on time, with three tiny bouquets of flowers in hand. Of course, it’s Josh who opens the door for me. His usually somber face transforms into a small, self-conscious smile as he steps aside and invites me in.
I’m barely two steps inside when I hear two little gasps. “Flowers!” Reagan bounces up to my waist. “Are those for me?”
Smiling, I hand her one of the bouquets. “This one is.” Then I turn to Caroline. “And this one’s for you.”
Emma walks out of the kitchen, her face aglow with a soft smile. “Girls, what do you say?”
“Thank you!” they sing in unison.
I’m struck by how Emma looks tonight. No pencil skirts or silk blouses. No high heels and not a dab of makeup in sight.
She walks barefoot toward me, her hair flowing freely over her shoulders. She’s wearing a simple white cotton dress with thin tied straps that hugs her waist before flaring out subtly at her hips.
She’s fucking beautiful.
I hand her the last bouquet of flowers and she accepts it with a small blush. “You shouldn’t have,” she demurs, holding the bouquet up to her nose.
Josh is eyeing me from the corner. I pull out the Nintendo Switch that I had Kirill purchase for me and hand it over. It’s not a fancy one, purely because I didn’t think Emma would appreciate anything too over-the-top for an eight-year-old.
Josh looks surprised. “For me?”
“For you.”
He takes it hesitantly. “Why?”
“Because you never show up anywhere empty-handed. My mother taught me that when I was about your age.”
It slips out so effortlessly that I shock myself. When was the last time I mentioned her? When was the last time I even thought about her?
“Josh, can I see?” Reagan asks, slapping her hands together like she’s about to pray. “Please?”
“I wanna see, too!” Caroline jumps in.
Josh hands over the console without protest. Once again, I’m amazed at how grown-up the boy is. Any other eight-year-old would have clung to it and refused to share.
The girls fall onto the sofa and start mashing buttons, but Josh’s eyes remain fixed squarely on me. “Thanks for the present, Ruslan.”
“No problem.”
Emma walks up behind Josh and rests her hands on his shoulders. “Why don’t you take a seat? Josh, how about you bring out the canapés?”
“Canapés?” I smile. “I wasn’t aware this was such a highbrow affair.”
Emma laughs self-consciously. “Don’t get too excited. It’s cubes of cheddar cheese on savory crackers. I’m just managing expectations here.” She blushes again. “This dinner isn’t going to be what you’re used to.”
“Did you cook?”
“We helped, too!” Caroline quips, abandoning the Switch. “I cut up the sausages all on my own.”
“And I stirred the pasta,” Reagan adds.
Emma chuckles, sidling a little closer so she can whisper to me, “Don’t worry; that’s their dinner. You’re getting something different.”
“Thank God. I was just about to walk out.” I wink so she knows I’m teasing.
Her smile grows wider and there’s that weird tremor in my chest that feels a little bit like a heart attack. Except it feels…good.
Josh comes out a second later, carrying the “canapés” on an off-shaped plate with a bunch of handprints painted all over it. I scan the room, realizing that all eyes are on me. So I make a show of trying one of the crackers.
