Page 87 of Single Mom's Daddies
After dinner, the house quiets in that slow, contented way that feels earned. The kind of stillness that seeps in after everyone’s been fed, after the kids have laughed themselves tired, after tension finally drains out through long exhaled breaths.
Mila and Alex follow Ivy to her room and wait while Melanie sets up her monitors for the night. She does one last vitals check to ensure the monitors are working properly, and since she says nothing, I assume they’re fine. The kids watch everything Melanie does, asking questions between their yawns. The lights are low. The only sound is the occasional rustle of pages and the soft crackle of the fire.
Saffron stands at the edge of it all, coffee in hand, though I doubt it’s warm anymore. I join her by the archway, my steps slow, deliberate. I don’t want to break the moment. “She’s really doing okay.”
Saffron doesn’t take her eyes off Ivy. “I know. It just doesn’t feel real yet.”
“It will.”
She glances at me, then back at Ivy again. “I thought I was going to lose her yesterday. I really thought that was it.”
“You didn’t. You won’t.”
“She called you Daddy,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.
I look down at her. “Was that alright?”
Her lips twitch. “It was more than alright.” She finally looks at me. Her eyes are tired. “I think it made her feel like she belongs here.”
“She does. This is her home. And yours. If you want it to be.”
Saffron blinks hard and takes a slow sip of her lukewarm coffee. “She’s so different from me. She’s soft. Sensitive. Sweet in a way I’ve never been. I used to wonder if that meant I was doing something wrong.”
“You weren’t,” I say immediately. “You’re her spine. She’s your heart.”
Saffron swallows and looks away again. “She’s only alive because I was willing to take help I didn’t want to need. That’s a hell of a thing to realize.”
“You’re not the only one who had to learn how to do that.”
We stand there a while longer. The fire crackles. Ivy yawns, then closes her coloring book, which Alex places on the bookshelf. She stretches, tiny arms raised over her head like a cat, then slides off the chair and walks over to us. “Can you tuck me in?”
Saffron starts to head in, but Ivy shakes her head. “I want Daddy to do it.”
Something behind my ribs goes quiet. Then louder. I check in with Saffron, who’s grinning. Another one of those silent nods of permission follows.
“Of course,” I say.
I straighten her sheets. She settles in with the pink owl and looks up at me.
“Privet, krasotka,” I tell her.
She smiles sleepily. “Spasibo, Daddy.”
“Do you need a story tonight? Sometimes I read them for Mila and Alex.”
She shakes her head. “I just want to sleep.”
“Of course.” I kiss her forehead, then turn off the lamp. I motion for Alex and Mila to follow me out, and they do, half-asleep themselves. It’s been a big day, meeting their half-sister and her moving in.
As soon as we reach the hallway, Nikolai and Victor take one each to tuck them in as well. Outside Ivy’s door, I rest my hand on the frame. Just a second.
Saffron pats my shoulder. “I think she likes you.”
A laugh rasps out of me as I shake my head at myself. “That’s good, because I don’t think I can live without her.”
She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “I know exactly what you mean.”
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