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“Okay,” I say softly.
Elena gets to her feet after, clearing her throat. “I know you have other questions, but I think you should spend some time with her first. I have something to do anyway.”
“What?”
“I was going to look for a job, see if I can find anything on my laptop.”
Very slowly, I consider what she’s saying. Then I grit my teeth. “You don’t need a job, Elena. Your daughter is three months old.”
Her head tilts to the side. I can practically see her gearing for a fight. Then she looks down at the baby in my arms and blows out a breath.
“I’m looking for remote work. Something I can do from home. I’m bored as hell, Roman, and while I love spending time with my baby, I also need something to occupy my mind before I go crazy. A job will help with that.”
“But still—”
“No. You don’t get a say, Roman. This is about me and what I need.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Eventually, when Cassie’s old enough, I’m going to get an actual job,” she states. I open my mouth to speak but she stops me. “And no, you don’t get a say then, either.”
I sigh. “We’ll table the discussion.”
“There’s no tabling. The discussion is over,” she says firmly. “Enjoy your daddy-daughter time.”
She walks out of the room, leaving us alone.
“Your mom is probably going to be the death of me,principessa.”
She blinks once and I take that as agreement. I thumb her cheek softly.
“That’s my girl,” I whisper.
I rock her for a few seconds. Soon enough, she’s yawning, and a few minutes later, she’s fast asleep. Very carefully, I place her in her crib before moving to find her mother. Elena’s seated on the living room floor in front of her couch. There’s a laptop in front of her and she’s wearing glasses, which is a little surprising.
“Since when do you need those?”
She jumps in surprise, placing her hand against her chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
I cross my arms against my chest and smirk. When she pulls herself together, she shoots me a look.
“What are you even doing out here?”
“She’s asleep,” I inform her, taking a seat beside her on the floor.
What she’s doing there while there’s a perfectly respectable chair behind her, I don’t know. But I learned a long time ago not to question Elena Legan.
“So,” I prompt, “when did you get the glasses?”
“A few months ago. I was reading something on my phone and the letters suddenly became blurry. I’ve always had problems with my eyes but I was too stubborn to get glasses until now.”
“Your trademark trait: stubbornness.”
“I thought that was yours,” she retorts.
“I highly doubt that.”
“Like you’d ever admit you’re anything less than perfect,” she scoffs.
