Page 36 of Single Mom's Daddies
I pull the sheets up around my shoulders and stare at the ceiling. Ivy’s not here. She’s in a hospital bed across town, watched over by nurses and machines and the weight of everything I can’t fix. Last night’s visit—after dinner, before Nikolai in the kitchen—was awkward. I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since I took this job. And Ineedthis job.
The Orlovs gave me fifty thousand dollars up front. Not a loan. Not a salary advance. Justhere. For Ivy. For her bills. No paperwork. No lectures. No strings.
Just help.
Who does that? And why would I risk it because of one kiss? I don’t care who he is. I don’t care if he’s one of the men from that night. I don’twantto know. I already made my choice. I’m staying. For her.
Even if it means keeping my guard up around these men. Especiallyhim. Hell, Victor too.
I force myself out of bed and into the shower. The water is too hot, but I let it burn. It’s the only thing that cuts through the fog in my head. I’m tying up my curls in a loose scarf when I hear it—laughter. High-pitched, close. The kids are up.
Ivy will like them. Mila’s too smart for her own good, and Alex is gentle in a way boys aren’t always allowed to be. They make the mornings easier. Like I have a purpose here that isn’t just survival.
I slip on jeans, a tank top, and the lightweight cardigan I always forget has holes in the cuffs. The kids won’t care.
The cottage smells faintly of soap and sun-warmed stone. I open the back door, and the day spills in—crisp air, the soft clink of garden tools, and Mrs. Popovich’s singing in Russian from somewhere near the main house. Probably the kitchen. It has a window that overlooks this part of the grounds.
Mila’s on the patio. She’s wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses and twirling a net in one hand like she’s on safari. Alex crouches nearby, poking a stick into a planter with grave concentration.
“Morning, monsters,” I call.
“Saffron!” Mila grins and runs over, net bumping into her shoulder. “Youhaveto come see what we found!”
“Another beetle?” I ask.
“No! Better.” She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the garden.
Alex follows. “It’s acocoon.”
I laugh. “You mean a chrysalis?”
“Whatever. It’s green and weird and hanging off a leaf.”
I let them pull me forward, their excitement infectious despite everything still weighing down my chest. My legs feel like lead. My heart feels like it’s working overtime to pretend it’s fine. But their joy is real. And right now, it’s enough to keep me moving.
We reach the planter box, and I crouch beside them, but don’t look right away. Because even though we’re here, even though it’s morning, I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my body. The way his voice sounded right before he said my name. The tremble in my own voice when I told him I couldn’t do it.
Not because I didn’t want him. Because Idid. And I’m terrified that means something.
“Miss Saffron?” Mila says.
I blink.
“Are you okay?”
I force a smile. “Yeah. Just…tired.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“Not really.”
Mila thinks about that. “I didn’t either. I had a dream about ants.”
“Were they mean ants?”
“No,” she says. “But they made a lot of rules, and I don’t like rules.”
I laugh. “That sounds about right.”
