Page 14 of Sinful Bride

She’s mine now.

5

PASHA

“Knock knock!” Mama calls through the door. She doesn’t wait for an answer before opening it.

“Hi!” Daphne calls back. She’s rested, but still a bit sleepy. I help her sit up against the pillows better.

As for me, I’m hating that fucking couch with every crick in my back. Whoever designed the “pull-away bed” for non-birthing partners had a bone to pick with their own. The thing was a torture device, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

Nothing is going to keep me from my family.

“How’s my girl doing?” Mama sets her bag and coat down, swooping in on Daphne and the bassinet with practiced ease. “Are you good? Getting plenty of rest?”

Shuffling at the door draws my attention. Arlo appears, dressed down in khaki slacks and a nondescript sweater vest, like he didn’t just used to run a powerful syndicate in Russia a few months ago. He carries in gift bags, flowers, and balloons, and just looks every bit the doting grandfather a complete stranger would assume him to be.

I don’t know how I feel about this.

The fact that I’m not instantly up in arms against him is even more worrisome.

“I am, thank you.” Daphne smiles “I ripped a stitch out last night, though, so they had to fix it. I’m still on bed rest.”

Mama whirls on me and lightly smacks my arm. “You better be keeping your hands off her! She needs to recover!”

“I’m innocent,” I growl. I’m too tired to summon up much more than that.

“You haven’t been innocent since the day you were born, Pasha Chekhov.” She straightens up and smiles. “Besides, I know you men. You’re all the same.”

“Malyshka, milyn’y, can you blame him?” Arlo winks at me as he slips his arm around Mama’s waist. “There’s something intoxicating about a woman bearing a man’s child. Resisting temptation is its own labor.”

Mama’s eyes widen and a very interesting shade of pink flushes her cheeks. She glances at him and mutters something. When her eyes flick to mine for the barest of seconds, I swear I see a hint of worry in them.

“All the same,” she demurs, “I’m so happy to see you doing so well. Both of you. And now it’s time for Babushka to snuggle my little Taty!”

She eases Tatyanna into her arms and dissolves into cooing nuzzles.

“She has your eyes,” she notes to Daphne, who blushes. Mama turns to me. “And she has your spirit. Your fire. And, I think, your nose.”

“Oh, definitely,” Arlo agrees. He peers at my baby girl over Mama’s shoulder and when his face breaks into a broad smile, I’m even more uncomfortable with how… well, comfortable this all feels.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, darling. Once you’re back home, we’ll be over every day to help you get settled in.”

Daphne balks. “Oh! Oh, really, that’s not… that’s not necessary. You don’t have to.”

Arlo is the one who steps in before I can. “It’s tradition, where we come from,” he explains. “Grandparents are your support, your bedrock. We understand how exhausting motherhood can be. Besides, Asya’s raised three babies of her own.” He gives her a proud pat on the shoulder. “She’s something of an expert.”

That makes Daphne laugh, and she eases back into her pillows. I was bracing myself for a fight, or at least a small protest. But as I watch her visibly calm down in their presence, I’m realizing she may be experiencing more anxiety over our new life than she lets on.

“I’ll make sure the guest room is set up for you,” I tell my mother. “Just in case you need it. We appreciate your help.”

Mama waves me off with an easy smile. “Of course, Pasha. We are family. It’s what we do.”

Arlo smiles at us and gestures to Taty. “May I hold her?”

Daphne looks to me for permission.

That alone has me floored.

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