The most surprising reaction of all, though, was Lev’s.
It was amazing how mellow he became around Katya. At first, he was wary, but once he breached that initial hesitation, he seemed more fascinated than anything else. He could sit and watch her for hours.
Of all the connections Katya had made with her family, that was the one that made me the most emotional.
And now, we’re about to do it all over again.
Uri drives us home while I sit in the backseat between both babies snuggled up in their car seats. I look back and forth, back and forth, over and over again like something terrible will happen if I go more than a second or two without making sure each of them is exactly where they were last. That old, familiar fear is back in my throat, tasting like blood.
It’s only when we pull up in front of the mansion that I finally look out through the front windshield for the first time since we left the hospital. When I do, I see a huge banner draped over the doorway.
WELCOME HOME, BABY ZENA!
Hand-painted flowers line the borders of the banner. I see Polina’s careful strokes and Lev’s bright splashes of color. If I’m not mistaken, the spiky one in the corner that looks almost reluctantly drawn is the work of none other than Nikolai Bugrov, that fake stoic cupcake of a man.
And all three of them are clustered on the front stoop, watching anxiously as we emerge from the car. As soon as I’m on my feet, Pol leads the charge over. She plucks Katya from Uri’s arms without even bothering to ask for permission. Lev and Nikolai follow, though Niko keeps a careful hand on Lev’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t stray too far.
“What do you think, Lev?” I ask softly. Zena fell asleep on the drive over here with one palm pressed to her cheek. “This is your other niece, Zena.”
He claps his hands over his mouth. “She’s so little.”
I nod. “Yes—but she’s strong.”
“She’s going to be okay?” When I nod again, he smiles and glances back down at her. “Can I touch her?”
“Go for it.”
He trails a finger over her forehead gingerly. Then over her one exposed cheek. She stirs just a bit, her lips opening and closing like a little goldfish.
We herd our way into the living room, one big, shuffling mass of Bugrovs. I guide Lev to a seat in the armchair and help situate Zena in his arms. He doesn’t move a muscle, barely daring to breathe as he just gazes down at her like she’s the most perfect thing in the world.
He might be onto something there.
As I watch, Uri comes up behind me, his arms looping around my waist as his lips press to the back of my head. It’s then that I finally take a breath and enjoy the whole scene.
Lev, holding Zena gingerly in his arms as he tries not to jostle her. Polly, bouncing Katya on her hip while she peppers her with kisses. Nikolai looming over both of them, checking back and forth with the hint of a smile fluttering on his lips.
“Both our girls are finally home.” I sigh, letting out a pent-up breath I’ve held in for five long months.
Uri squeezes me tighter. “You did it.”
“We did it.”
He chuckles. “Oh, no. I know when to take credit and when to cede the spotlight. This was you, narushitel. You did this.”
Laughing, I rest my head back against his chest. He underplays his role a lot, but I know just how lucky I am. He wakes up with me every night for every feeding. He’s changed more diapers than I have by several orders of magnitude. There’s never been any doubt in my mind that we, the girls and I, are his highest priority.
A familiar tingle spreads through my body. I haven’t felt it in so long that, for a while there, I was worried I’d never feel it again. But as it turns out, I needed time. My body needed to heal first. Then my mind.
I twist around in Uri’s arms so that I can face him. “Hey. Since our babysitters have got this covered, wanna come with me?”
His eyebrows tilt downward curiously. “Lead the way.”
I leave the girls with their uncles and aunt and lead Uri upstairs to our newly renovated master bedroom. I make him sit on the edge of the bed, then I extricate myself from his grasp and step back. Slowly, I start to undo the buttons of my dress.
“Alyssa…”
“Shh. Sit and watch.”
“It’s not that I don’t love what’s happening,” Uri rumbles. “But… are you sure?”
“It’s been over six months,” I point out.
“And I’ll wait a century if that’s what you need.”