Vadim stands beside her, his expression slack with relief. “Yes,” he says, stooping down beside her. “It’s yours. I’m still arranging your lessons, but do you want to try it out now?”
She nods, and he lifts her onto the bench and settles down beside her.
I find myself inching closer, riveted as he begins to play a soft, jaunty melody before showing her where to place her fingers to achieve the same sound.
Single Father of the year. My ovaries swoon, but then a part of me resents that statement. Taken man of the year, it insists. Mine.
Rather than immediately quashing the thought, I get lost in their interactions, skipping ahead to imagine dangerous variations on this very scene. Me seated beside them, for one. Another child with his curls perched at his shoulder. Another. Another…
Snap out of it, Tiffy.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” I whisper, excusing myself into the kitchen. I rummage through the freezer and attempt to heat up one of Ena’s meals. In the end, I get distracted and creep right back to the boundary with the living room.
But they’re gone.
Confused, I search the rest of the lower level, finding it deserted. Did they leave? By the time the food is fully heated in the oven, they haven’t returned. I fish out the container and divide the food between three plates. Just as I bring them to the table, a tiny figure races from nowhere, snatching for my hand.
“Magda? What’s wrong?”
Her eyes are bug-wide, but all she does is tug until I warily follow her through the foyer, out the front door and around to the side of the house. There, at the end of the massive driveway, Vadim is unloading his latest delivery. At least now, his suggestion regarding my present takes on newer significance.
A gorgeous white mare nuzzles at his neck as he strokes her ivory mane.
“Will you welcome your new family members?” he asks, while enduring Zzazza’s ruthless affections.
Magda looks on, spellbound, but when a worker guides another animal from the back of a white trailer, she releases me and races over.
“Is he mine?” she exclaims in response to the beautiful chestnut pony prancing at the end of a pink lead rope.
“She is,” he says, reaching out to pat the small horse. “Her name is Dasha. Will you care for her with all of your heart?”
She nods solemnly and inches forward to touch the pony herself. As the filly sniffs her fingers, she smiles for real this time, completely unaware of the expression. And it’s breathtaking.
“And for you.” Vadim turns his attention to me, his voice lowering. “It took me a while to find a creature to fit your specifications. Does he suffice? His name is Magnus.”
I gasp as a second worker leads another horse from the trailer. Majestic and completely ebony, he’s the second most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. The first watches me intently, gauging my reaction.
“He’s incredible,” I whisper, advancing toward the beautiful stallion. He watches me with lipid eyes, snorting as I extend my hand for him to smell. I can’t even begin to imagine his cost, and the enormity of the gesture makes me sway.
“Shall we show them to their new home?” Vadim asks, speaking to Magda.
She nods, and together, they and the workers lead the horses down the path toward the stable. I watch them go, sensing the need to hang back this time. I can only pray that Vadim can continue to make progress without me. Still, my thoughts are solely focused on them as I return to the kitchen and continue setting the table. It seems, however, that a pony delivery may appeal to Magda more than chicken nuggets.
Sure enough, after an hour passes, I venture out to find them in the stable. Near the one apparently earmarked for Zzazza, Vadim holds Magda by her waist, high enough for her to brush the mare’s ivory mane.
His eyes meet mine from over her head, brimming with a tenderness that warms my heart. I keep my distance until Magda spots me. It’s like a switch is flipped, and being caught near Vadim is a slip in her façade she can’t maintain. She wiggles from his grasp and backs away, crossing her arms.
“Can I ride my pony whenever I want to?”
Vadim frowns, and as if his hands mourn the loss of contact, he braces both against Zzazza’s broad back. “You can with supervision,” he says. “Either myself, or Mr. Ena. Horses are beautiful creatures, but they can be dangerous.”
She nods and exits Zzazza’s stall, extending the distance between them. And I know she has no clue as to the pain that slices through him like a knife. I can’t stop myself from approaching his side and covering one of his hands with my own.
“Can I go to my room now?” Magda asks.
“Yes,” Vadim rasps. “You can.”
“Make sure you grab some lunch first before you head up,” I call after her.
The second she’s out of earshot, I loop my fingers around his neck, burying my face against his shoulder.
“I’m trying,” he says hoarsely. I notice his hands withdraw from Zzazza and curl into fists. “Like hell, I’m trying. But I feel like she’s putting up a wall every time I get somewhere.”
“Give her time.” I stroke my fingers down his front, sensing the muscle lurking beneath the tailored fabric. “I think you’re wearing her down.”
“I think I’m worn down.” He captures my hand, bringing my fingers to his mouth. Our eyes meet as he brushes his lips over my knuckles. He eyes me reverently, like a man lying prone before an altar, desperate for mercy.
It’s too darn intense. Awed, I stroke through his hair, driven to give him some kind of reassurance, even against my better judgment. “I’m here with you,” I tell him. “I’ve got your back.”
“Just my back?” His sly smirk makes me chuckle and
