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“Dad, the batteries in my remote are low,” she huffs. “Do we have any more?”
Aiden closes his mouth, whatever he’d been about to say dying on his tongue as he stands from the couch to walk toward the kitchen. “They’re in the drawer by the sink,” he tells her. “Let me get them for you.”
I turn my head to notice Sophie eyeing me. “Are you going to make lunch?”
“That depends,” I say smoothly. “Are you going to help me?”
“Isn’t it your job to feed me?”
I press my lips together, nodding as if I’m considering. “Itmight be. But you know I hold all the power when it comes to deciding if you’re getting borscht or pizza, right?”
“What isborscht?”
“It’s beet soup, essentially,” Aiden tosses over his shoulder, still searching for batteries. “It’s very good. Kind of sour though. It’s good with smetana.”
“Ew.She can’t feed me that, can she?”
Aiden turns to lean against the counter, holding the batteries he’s found and shrugging as he gives Sophie an aloof look. “She’s the boss when I’m not here.”
Sophie turns to narrow her eyes, frowning at me as I give her my sweetest grin. “Fine,” she relents. “I’ll help. But no beets.”
She takes the batteries her dad is offering as she trudges back up the stairs, and Aiden smiles at me from the kitchen, looking amused. “You’re going to give her a run for her money, aren’t you?”
“That’s the plan,” I assure him. “Until you guys get rid of me.”
Aiden’s smile hitches wider. “You might be the only person in this city who has a real shot at handling my daughter,” he says. “I don’t think I can let you leave, sorry.”
I know he’s joking, but it still does something funny to my insides.
“So,” I say, pushing out of the armchair and clapping my hands together as I raise my voice for dramatic effect. “Where do you keep the beets in this place?”
“No beets!” Sophie’s voice calls from up the stairs.
Aiden covers his mouth with his hand to hide his laugh.
—
The rest of my stuff comes Sunday afternoon after Aiden has already left for work, and I spend some time putting it away, giving the enigmatic little girl who is determined not to get too close to me a moment to breathe before I go upstairs and starttrying to make her like me. My attempts so far have been met with a lukewarm reception at best.
“I think she might hate me,” I tell Wanda, using my shoulder to hold the phone to my ear as I hang up my jeans. “But I’m pretty sure it’s more about principle than me as a person, so I’m not taking it personally.”
“It’s all those preteen hormones,” Wanda muses.
I wrinkle my nose. “She’s only nine.”
“Well, maybe it’s a personal choice to be difficult then, I don’t know.”
“I’m still a stranger,” I laugh. “I think we can cut her some slack. Besides, I’m totally going to win her over. Just wait.”
“I’ll bet,” Wanda chuckles. “How is the house? Is there a basement? Has he asked you to wear a diaper yet?”
“The house is amazing. My room might be bigger than my entire apartment. No evidence of a basement though. Also, it’s more of a padded underwear situation, and he asked nicely, so...”
“One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack with your nonsense, and who’ll be laughing then?”
“Well, not you, presumably.”
“Oh, ha ha. So what do you think of the family?”
