Page 40 of The Sweetest Chirp

She seems so surprised, and I don’t fucking understand that. “You did?”

“Yes,dushen’ka. There isn’t a moment I don’t want to kiss you,” I admit, my voice gruff and low. “Audrina, I?—”

“Synok?” I hear my mom call out her term of endearment for me, which means son in Russian. My stomach drops and I almost yell the words I want to say, but this isn’t the time. Audrina still looks so out of sorts. She needs to get through this. I need to get her settled, and then I’ll try again. Before I can tell her that, though, my mom’s voice is closer. “I didn’t know you had arrived?—”

I don’t have to look up to know she has entered the room or that her eyes have settled on Audrina. I hear Mom’s sharp intake of breath, but I ignore it. Unable to stop myself, I reach out for Audrina’s forearm, squeezing it lightly. Her eyes are watery, and I’m surprised she hasn’t let her tears fall yet. “This is going to go great. I’m here.”

She can’t even acknowledge me before my mom falls to her knees in her crisp black Gucci dress. In perfect dramatics that only a Russianprintsessacan perform, my mother reaches for Audrina, tears falling down her cheeks as she bellows at the top of her lungs, “Audrina! Oh my God. It’s you? Sweet God, you’ve brought her home.”

I glance back at Audrina to find her still looking at me, her jaw slack, and finally, tears spill over. God, she’s perfection. I hear shuffling, a scream or two, but all I can do is continue to look at her. I flick up my hat so she can see my eyes, and then I flash her a wide smile. “Welcome home.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ithought Maeve was being over the top, but my mom is never outdone.

She fainted.

Like full-out, Scarlett O’Hara, hand to her temple, fainted.

All she was missing was being at the top of the stairs so she could roll down.

God, I’ve missed her dramatics.

I didn’t even get a good look at her, or even get my arms around her, before she collapsed to the floor. I hope she isn’t faking it, because my dad sure does step right over her to wrap me up in his arms, his tears wetting my face as he holds me tightly to his wide, barrel chest. His cologne relaxes me as I nuzzle my face into him. He’s still bigger than life, but I doubt even more three years have changed that much of him. He grasps my face, meeting my gaze, and my heart clenches in my chest. Unlike my hazel eyes and strawberry-blond hair, my dad has blond hair and light green eyes. His face has sharp features, a very prominent nose, while mine is quaint. Tears fall from his eyes, and I clutch his wrists.

“My love,” he breathes, kissing my cheeks over and over. “I have missed you so very much.”

“I’ve missed you, Daddy,” I whimper, leaning into him.

He kisses my nose. “Where have you been? Why did you leave for so long without calling us? We missed you.”

My throat closes up, and I shrug. “I had to go. I needed a restart.”

His eyes search mine. “Did you find it?”

His question rattles my soul. No, I didn’t, but I had the most beautiful little girl, which may be better than a restart. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

He squeezes my face. “Don’t leave like that again, okay?” There is no anger, just love in his eyes, as he strokes my cheeks. “I can’t bear to be without you again.”

“I know, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs. “We always knew you’d fly the nest one day, just didn’t expect you to do it and cut us off.”

I’m shaking my head before he even finishes his sentence. “Daddy, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that. I just shut down.”

He squeezes my jaw. “Did we cause you to leave?”

“No, Dad. It was nothing like that.” My eyes plead with his. “I just had to get away, but I didn’t plan on staying away. It was easier to hide than come home.”

“I can understand that. I’m just glad you’re back.”

My heart skips in my chest as he brings me back into his arms. Against his chest, I ask, “Is Mom okay?”

“She’s fine,” he mutters, kissing my temple. He doesn’t let me go, but we both turn to find her sitting up, Maeve fanning her face, as Don speaks softly to Thatcher. My breath catches when his eyes move along my face as if he’s looking for any sign I’m not okay. My heart beats like a steel drum as his lips kick up at one side when he jerks his chin to my mom. He then gives me a shrug, as if to say, “What can you do?”

He’s not wrong.

I tear my gaze from his to check on my mom when her arms wrap around me, and she knocks me back into my dad. “Jesus, Anya,” he grunts, holding us up.

---