Page 68 of Frequency of Attraction

“First time in the States?”

“Da.”

“Can I make you something I think you’ll like? And can I show you around Victory tomorrow? It’s my day off.”

Vadim’s exhale lasted a full ten seconds.

He tried not to fret about Dasha’s lunch date with Trav while he was at work. She was new to the country, its customs, and its men. He just wanted her to be safe for the first time since Adrik had chosen his shadowy path. He prayed to God she would be smiling when he got home.

The workday was long and brutal, though he ran drills in the T-38 without a single hiccup. Stratos’ upcoming flight would test every component of the spaceplane’s payload, ground operations, and, mostly, pilot proficiency. He’d have hundreds of eyes watching him, including Dasha’s. The tone of all their meetings was positive, but it would be a stressful two weeks for Vadim.

Distraction, and a complication, arrived in the form of a text message at the end of the day.

It’s Mila’s birthday on Saturday. I should have told you sooner. Any chance you and Quinn will be around?

Of all the things he’d asked little Mila, her birthdate had not been one of them. His daughter was turning four. He had missed the first three birthdays. He would not miss this one.

He found a flight out of L.A. Friday night, coming back Sunday morning. He purchased the tickets and texted Mila.

My sister and I will be there. Dasha can’t wait to meet her niece.

Dasha was at the apartment and glowing when Vadim got home. Relief flooded through him, but he did not ask about her date. Adrik had been the domineering one, not him. “Want to meet your niece?”

“Are you serious?”

He smiled. “We leave for Boston tomorrow. It’s her birthday.”

She squealed, her blue eyes bright. “We need gifts!”

Four years’ worth. He took Dasha to the nearest Target, thirty minutes away, while they bought as many toys, books, and clothes as would fit in her suitcase. Truly, Vadim had never seen his sister happier. His joy matched hers. He was shopping for his daughter. He got to participate in her birthday, in her life. He had a regular line of communication with her caregiver for the first time. Only two dark clouds hovered. The private investigator still could not find Annika, and Quinn wasn’t included. He knew they’d both want to be part of Mila’s birthday if they could.

Friday was eternal and exhausting: a full workday, then a cross-country flight that put them in Boston well after midnight. They took a cab to a hotel in East Boston, which Vadim knew he’d hear about from Baba Mila. Her tiny flat above the bakery wasn’t meant for guests, but she’d insist they stay there. He’d already warned Dasha that Saturday night they’d be sleeping on the floor.

As the darkened city rushed by, he tried not to think about what he had felt for two different girls in this city. Different kinds of love tapped from the same well.

“You are looking awfully morose, considering the joyous occasion that brought us here. We’re in Boston. In America. Going to see our angel. What has you down?”

Vadim couldn’t resist smiling at his sister. He had never told a soul about Quinn. Not directly. But there was no harm in telling Dasha now. So he shared, careful to leave out all the sexual parts of their relationship. He painted Quinn as she was: generous, hardworking, curious.

“I’m sorry not to be meeting her.”

Vadim didn’t know if he was sorry about that or not. Having recognized what he felt for her as love, having Quinn tucked into his family unit would be a hard thing not to fight for.

They met the Milas at a park for lunch the next day, the one near Quinn’s flat they had met at the first time. Dasha had dragged the suitcase full of gifts with them. Vadim fully expected to accompany them home afterward laden with girly things that made his daughter smile.

“She hasn’t stopped asking to come back,” Mila explained to them in Russian. “I don’t know if it was the park itself or the happiness she felt, but I figured her birthday made the perfect excuse.”

Baba Mila had draped a picnic table with aBubble Guppiestablecloth and matching plates and napkins. A cake evoking the sea sat in the center. Little Mila wore a blue tiara studded with seashells and pearls.

“I’m an underwater birthday princess,” she told them.

Dasha had not stopped cooing since meeting her niece. “Can we twirl?” she asked Mila. “On the twirly machine?”

“Yes,” Mila replied solemnly. “If you hold me.”

Chuckling, Vadim rose to push them on the carousel. Mila, in Dasha’s lap, squealed with delight.

“Faster, Papa!”

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