me, each of us holding one of our child’s hands, swinging him or her through the air, all three of us laughing.
Happy.
Together.
Just thinking about it almost brings tears to my eyes.
“You know, maybe someday,” I shrug as nonchalantly as I can. “I think it could be fun. A lot of work, but a lot of fun at the same time.”
Nikolas nods and bites into a frozen strawberry. “I think you’d make a good mommy,” he says confidently.
I smile and reach forward, pinching one of his cheeks. “Yeah? You do?”
“Yeah! You could be my mommy.”
I don’t even know how to respond to that. For the past few months, I’ve felt like I’m parenting Nikolas more than I am babysitting, but I don’t mind. There’s something so rewarding about taking care of him. It does make me wonder about how long I’ll be here.
I know that Matvei said that he’d let me go as soon as Dad pays off his bills or I’ve worked off what he owes, but I don’t know if he’d really be so open to it when the time comes. The man is mercurial, to say the least. What if he just changes his mind?
The idea of being here for years terrifies me. I have my own life outside of this. This can’t be my whole world.
When we finish our ice cream, I call the mansion and one of the guards comes to pick us up. I’ve had my phone in my hand all night long, but Matvei hasn’t called or texted to let me know where the hell he went or if something happened to him. I know better than to blab to the guards or whoever about my anxieties. Matvei wouldn’t like that one bit. Still, I feel my worries gnawing away in the pit of my stomach.
I try to ignore the nasty feeling as I help Niko take a bath and get ready for bed. We read a story, then I tuck him in.
“Good night, Niko.” I kiss him on the cheek and turn off the main light, leaving the tiny nightlight shaped like a spaceship on. Downstairs, I take a seat on the sofa and try to distract myself with TV until Matvei gets home.
After a few hours, the door finally opens, and I see Matvei step through it. He looks exhausted, and I want to feel pity, but then I remember Nikolas upstairs and how disappointed he was that his uncle vanished.
“Where have you been?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral. I don’t need to snap on him. Not when he could so easily hurt me and make my life here a living hell. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving or anything.”
“Because it’s not my job to report to you, Victoria,” he grunts. As he pulls off his jacket, he pauses to sniff the air. “What are you baking?”
“Banana bread for Nikolas. He was upset that you left without saying goodbye. All you had to do was come in and say that you weren’t going to be able to stay the entire night and he wouldn’t have been so hurt.”
“He’ll live.”
“Jesus,” I groan, shaking my head. “You have absolutely no compassion for anyone else in the world, do you? I’m telling you that your nephew was hurt by you disappearing and you’re passing it off like I’m the one that’s upset!”
He narrows his dark eyes at me, and I feel a wave of intimidation hit me. “You’re the one raising your voice.”
“Because you’re being an asshole to Niko, and you don’t even care!”
“I do care,” he growls, taking a step towards me. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be running all over this fucking town looking for the man that killed his parents. I wouldn’t be busting my ass day and night to get justice for that boy. So, don’t fucking tell me I don’t care, Victoria.”
I’ve never seen him this red in the face. Not even when he nearly took Dad’s head off. He’s not joking around tonight.
“Whether you do care or not, you still hurt that little boy up there. Any man would realize how wrong he was and apologize. He wouldn’t be sitting down here arguing with me; he’d be up there saying he was sorry to that little boy.”
“You’re really trying to tug on my heartstrings tonight, aren’t you?” he scoffs.
“I’m trying to get you to feel anything other than nonstop anger all the time. Sorry for thinking you were capable of feeling more than one