Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Roman! Oh, god, you little freaking—” A woman appears at the doorway, flushed and out of breath. She’s pretty with big eyes and a kind face, and she relaxes the second she spots Tigran holding the little toddler. “I was worried he escaped.”
“Just came to find his uncle,” Tigran says, beaming happily. “Roman, are you being a little demon again?”
“Tiggie,” Roman says, laughing away as Tigran tickles him.
I stand back awkwardly, watching. I swear my heart expands like fifty times its normal size. I Grinch the fuck out, swelling up with love watching Tigran hold his nephew and play with him, and some animal part of my brain has a straight-up spasm.
Suddenly, I want fifty kids. A thousand of them. A million, billion—
“You must be Dasha.” The woman walks over and extends her hand. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m Arsen’s wife, Lena, and that little beast is Roman.”
“Nice to meet you too.” We shake, and Lena leads us into the house. Tigran carries Roman, looking happy and relaxed in a way I’ve never seen before, and Roman clings right onto his uncle, chatting away in half sing-song nonsense and half in what sounds like butchered Russian like a koala on meth.
“I’m really happy you two could come out tonight,” Lena says as we gather in a surprisingly warm and inviting kitchen in the far wing of the house. I had pictured something vast and impersonal, especially on the walk over here, based on all the priceless art and the gleaming hardwood floors. But the second we entered what Lena called the family wing, it instantly felt like a normal home. Kids’ toys are scattered everywhere, a bucket of big Legos is upturned in a corner, and a discarded tablet is playing children’s music.
“You have an incredible home,” I gush, unable to help myself.
Tigran’s pulled away by Roman and made to sit criss-cross-applesauce in the middle of the Legos as the little kid brings him toys one by one, explaining each in that little voice of his.
“I can’t take credit, although this part of the house we renovated around when Roman was born.”
“It’s amazing, honestly.”
“Thanks so much. The house is crazy, though. One day I’ll give you a real tour of all the bizarre nooks and crannies. But for now, I’m just really happy you’re here. Want a drink or something?” She starts pouring some wine, and I have to turn her down. Her eyes light up with amusement. “That’s right. You have to get knocked up, huh?”
I feel my cheeks turn red as I nod awkwardly. “I guess that’s the plan.”
“What a family,” Lena says, sighing. She leans on her elbows and swirls her wine. “Feels weird when your children are contractually obligated, right?”
I nod quickly, glancing at Tigran, but he’s not listening. Instead, he’s holding what looks like a rattle covered in fuzz and trying not to get hit in the face with a stuffed raccoon while Roman crawls all over him.
“I was pretty freaked out when we first got married,” I admit, which is a very small understatement. “But I don’t know. It’s not so bad now.”
Lena’s eyebrows raise high. “Not so bad, huh? Does that mean you’re falling for our resident brooding gargoyle?”
I snort and cover my mouth. “Gargoyle?”
“Yeah, you know, all made of stone and a little scary.” She grins even bigger and takes a long drink. “I’m happy for you, though. I mean, my situation was weird too, so I’m extremely sympathetic. If you ever want to talk about it.”
“I do, I mean, I’ll take you up on that sometime.”
“Fantastic. For now, how about I give you that tour of the family wing? Maybe we can talk babies?”
I try not to act too eager as Lena takes me away, her hand through my arm, chatting away about diapers and bath crayons. I almost forget that I’m outside of the house on a social visit for the first time in a very, very long time.
Tigran
“Giraffe.” Roman holds up a stuffed raccoon.
“I’m pretty sure that’s—”
“Giraffe,” he repeats and tries to whack me in the head.
I snarl and duck under it, then grab him and start tickling his belly. He squirms, laughing like crazy, and I could play this game all night. I release him, and he goes off to find another stuffie, at which point he’ll show it off, give it the wrong name, insist that he’s actually right, and then I’ll tickle him until the game repeats on and on.
That little kid’s got so much energy it’s unbelievable, and I’m completely here for it.
“You two are having fun,” Arsen says from over in the kitchen. I don’t know where that guy came from. I swear, sometimes he just appears around this damn house.
“Stop traveling through the walls,” I grunt at him and heave myself to my feet.