Pavel
“Voilà,” Camille says with a small smile. “Quiche Lorraine. Simple, but delicious.”
She insisted on cooking, and I luckily had all the ingredients already on hand. With practiced ease, she sets the quiche on the table, the golden crust perfectly crisp, the scent of melted cheese, eggs, and smoked ham filling the room.
Ana beams as Camille puts a plate in front of her. “Thank you!” She glances over at me, her feet kicking under the table. “Mr. Fetisov, do you like quiche?”
I smile at the formality. “I suppose we’re about to find out.”
Camille serves the rest of us, and soon, everyone is happily eating. The room hums with quiet satisfaction, forks tapping against plates.
Ana takes a big bite, eyes widening as she dramatically says, “Mmm, it’s so good!”
Vlad chuckles. “That’s high praise.”
Kat shifts beside me, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. She’s watching me closely, gauging my reaction to Ana and the sudden family dynamic settling around us. I know she’s bracing for me to snap, to push back against the disruption, but I don’t have any intention of doing so.
I glance at Ana, swinging her legs again as she eats. Every so often, she sneaks a peek my way, like she’s still trying to figure me out. The weight of it settles deep in my chest. She has no idea who I am to her, not yet. But she’s here, in my home, and that’s a start.
“So, Ana, what do you like to do for fun?” I ask.
She lights up. “I love to draw, and I used to take dance lessons.” She leans in conspiratorially. “But I stopped because the teacher was mean.”
Vlad snorts a laugh. “She wasn’t mean; she just had rules.”
“She yelled a lot,” Ana argues.
“Ballet is strict,” Camille chimes in, a teasing note in her voice. “But I do recall that teacher being a bit intense.”
“See? Camille says the same as me!”
I chuckle. “Do you like books?”
Ana nods her head enthusiastically. “I do!”
“What kind of books do you like?”
Ana considers this, nibbling on a bite of quiche. “Princess stories,” she decides, “but not the boring ones. I like the kind where the princess fights the bad guys.”
Kat grins. “My brave, strong girl.”
Ana smiles at her mother before turning back to me. “Do you like stories, Mr. Fetisov?”
I tap my fork against my plate, pretending to think it over. “I do. But I don’t think I’ve read any princess stories.”
Appalled, Ana gasps. “None?”
I shake my head. “Not a single one.”
She looks at me like I’m a lost cause, and sighs. “We have to do something about that.”
Kat bites back a laugh, and I glance at her before returning my attention to my little girl. “All right, then. You’ll have to pick a good one for me.”
Ana claps her hands. “I already know which one!”
I smile at her, something unfamiliar spreading through my chest. “It’s a deal.”
Across the table, Vlad watches the exchange quietly. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s approval in his eyes.
Kat reaches for her glass again, exhaling softly, the tension fading bit by bit. She looks at me, and I know what she’s thinking: This is going better than she expected.
Vlad clears his throat. “Thanks for letting us stay for lunch, Pavel,” he says. “I appreciate the hospitality.”
I give a curt nod. “Happy to do it. It’s about time we shared a meal—all of us.”
His gaze slides to Kat, then back to his plate. “Yes, it is.”
After that, we fall into easy conversation.
Eventually, I find myself with an empty plate, feeling more relaxed than I have in days. However, my stomach churns slightly with anticipation. Once we finish lunch, I’ll have to talk with Vlad and Kat about everything I’ve learned about Darya’s revelations and the looming threats. But for now, I will enjoy the moment with my daughter.
She’s quite the chatterbox, describing the water slide at the condo in complete detail. “It went round and round and round,” she says, twirling her fork in the air, “then splash! You land in the pool at the bottom. Mama, can we get a pool and a slide like that?”
Kat laughs, a genuine laugh that I haven’t heard in a while. “We have a pool, baby, but it’s outside, so it’s too cold to swim right now.”
“Maybe in the summer,” I say, giving Ana a grin.
She lights up. “Really? Can we invite Camille?”
“Of course,” Kat agrees, looking to Camille for confirmation.
Camille offers a warm smile. “I’d be delighted.”
Ana giggles, turning back to her plate. “Yay!” She leans in, whispering loud enough for half the table to hear. “Mr. Fetisov, do you like to swim? I do. I’m a good swimmer. I took lessons!”
I chuckle. “I’m pretty good, yes.”
She seems satisfied, resuming her meal. I can’t help but notice how comfortable she’s become around me in such a short time. It’s surreal and oddly wonderful.
The conversation drifts. Vlad cracks a subtle joke about the cartoon Ana forced him to watch five times in a row. Camille tells us how she and Ana tried to feed the ducks in Central Park, only to have the birds chase after them.
Kat’s leg keeps bouncing under the table, even as she happily engages with everyone. She’s anxious—she knows what’s about to happen after we finish lunch. She also likely wonders if I’m still upset with her. I can sense her looking my way every few minutes, gauging my mood.
Camille moves around the table once everyone’s finished eating, gathering plates with smooth efficiency. “I’ll clean up,” she says. “You all talk.”
Ana stretches her arms overhead, then pats her belly. “I’m full. That was so good! Thank you, Camille.”
Camille smiles warmly at Ana as she stacks dishes. “You’re very welcome, petite étoile. I’m glad you liked it.”
Kat catches my eye. “That was lovely. Thank you, Pavel. And Camille, merci for cooking.”
Camille nods, still clearing. “It was my pleasure, comme toujours.”
Ana glances between us, suddenly wary. “Mama, you’re not leaving me again, are you?”
Kat reaches over, covering Ana’s small hand with her own. “Just for a little bit, sweetheart. But I have a surprise for you first.”
Ana tilts her head. “A surprise?” Her voice is cautious but hopeful.
I clear my throat, choosing my words carefully. “We’re going to prepare a room for you upstairs,” I tell Ana, watching her reaction closely. “A space just for you—with toys, a princess bed, and anything else you want or need.”
Ana’s brow furrows. “But we already live with Uncle Piotr and Uncle Vlad.”
Anger coils in my gut at the mere mention of that prick Piotr, but I keep my tone calm and even. “Your mama lives here now. If you want to stay with her, this can be your home, too, but only if you want it to be.”
Ana’s face shifts from confusion to curiosity, then finally excitement. “Can I see it?”
Kat smiles. “It’s not ready yet, but we’ll get it set up for you right away.”
Ana wiggles in her chair, excitement beginning to outweigh any lingering hesitation. “Can I have lots of pillows and books?”
“As many as you want,” I assure her.
She leans forward, lowering her voice. “And toys?”
I smirk. “Obviously.”
She grins, the hesitation in her small frame finally easing. “Yay! I want to stay here with Mama.”
Relief rushes through me, but I keep my expression neutral. “Good. We will also prepare a room for Camille right next door.”
Camille, still at the sink rinsing dishes, turns in surprise. “Oh, my. Well, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Fetisov. Merci beaucoup.”
Kat nods and smiles. “We’ll discuss the details later, but we’d love for you to stay on.”
Camille smiles broadly. “I’d be happy to. It’s been a while since I’ve taught in a new place.” She looks over to Vlad, who’s been quietly listening. “We’ll need to arrange to get our things from the house.”
Vlad straightens slightly. “I can help with that.”
Camille gives him a small nod, something unspoken passing between them.
Kat turns back to me. “Is that alright?”
I rest my forearms on the table, glancing at Ana’s eager face, then at Kat’s expectant one. “Of course,” I reply. “We’ll make it happen.”
Ana lets out a delighted squeal. “Yay! Can I see my room now?”
Kat laughs, pushing her chair back. “Come on, let’s go take a look and start planning.”
Ana slides off her chair and grabs Kat’s hand, practically bouncing with excitement. “Can I have twinkly lights?” She directs the question toward me.
I realize she’s asking my permission, or at least my agreement. It’s a strange sensation being consulted about such things, like we’re forming a real family dynamic.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Whatever you want, within reason, of course.”
“Cool!”
“Give them the two guest rooms on the second floor,” I say to Kat. “Give Camille the one with the ensuite.”
Ana nods eagerly, tugging at Camille’s shirt sleeve. “C’mon, let’s go see our new rooms!” Camille turns off the water and dries her hands, while Ana practically drags her toward the door.
“I need to talk to you and Vlad,” I tell her. “Tell him to join me in my office. You can meet us once Ana and Camille are settled.”
She nods. “Alright. She’s going to have a million questions.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “She always does.”
“She’s sharp. I’m really glad that I get to be a part of this.”
Kat’s eyes soften. She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “So am I.”
I sit for a long moment after she leaves, listening to the faint echoes of Ana’s excited chatter upstairs. My daughter. The weight of the words settles over me, foreign yet grounding. A fierce, unfamiliar kind of protectiveness grips my chest—something I’ve only felt for Kat before.
I won’t let anyone hurt them, no matter who it is or what it takes. I shove the thought down, keeping it close to the surface.
There’s work to be done.
