52. Laila
52
LAILA
“Look at the camera, Nina! Nina,” the photographer croons, waving a teddy bear over the top of the lens. “Nina, look at— You, too, Laila. The lens is over here.”
Arsen smirks, and I realize my gaze may have wandered a bit to the right. My face warms as I turn back to the camera. Arsen’s attention leaves me painfully aware of every breath, every brush of fabric against my skin.
Since the moment he told me he’d hired a photographer to take portraits of me, Nina, and my mom, my heart has been humming in my chest. He had dresses delivered for all of us, and I can’t even begin to imagine when he had the time to plan this.
The last seven weeks have been a steady hum of late nights with Nina, working on the Pobeda launch, and spending every night next to me in what has officially become our room.
I quickly stop thinking about my husband before my blush becomes visible from outer space.
Mom eases into the shot, sitting down gingerly in the armchair in front of the fireplace. Arsen pulls her walker out of frame, and I keep smiling, like I don’t notice how much slower she moves lately.
There are a few shots of Mom with Nina and then a few more with the three of us.
Zak finally lowers his camera and Arsen claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. That was a good session.”
“We aren’t done yet.”
Both men turn to me, looking confused.
“We got all the shots on my list.” Zak consults his phone to be sure.
“But Arsen wasn’t in any of them.”
Arsen slips closer, his voice low. “This wasn’t for me. I wanted you to have pictures of the three of you. Something to show Nina one day.”
There’s a softness in his voice that pokes at a tender spot I’m not ready to discuss yet. Still, I can’t stop myself from looking over at my mom—at her beaming smile and the gorgeous blue dress she’s wearing. She looks happy, but beneath the smile and the makeup, she’s losing weight and energy by the day.
“Today wasn’t about me,” he continues. “It’s a gift for you and your mother.”
“And it’s a great gift. But it wouldn’t be complete without a few pictures of you.” I take his hand. “You’re a part of the family, too.”
He looks back to Zak like he’s hoping the photographer will argue, but I grab his hand and pull him towards the fireplace.
Mom’s still in the chair with Nina, and Arsen and I squeeze in behind. He curls his arm around my waist like we do this all the time.
“Wow, that is a good-looking family,” Zak crows from behind his camera. He pokes his head over the top. “How about a smile, Arsen?”
Arsen’s brow lifts. If Zak isn’t careful, he might get thrown from the window.
I prod him in the ribs.
“I’m not good at posing,” he mutters. “Or smiling.”
I know that’s not true, but a picture is worth a thousand words.
So I plop our two-month-old in his arms. Instantly, Nina fists her chubby hands in his shirt and gives her Papa a gummy grin. And just as instantly, Arsen’s face transforms. His eyes shimmer, and he smiles down at her.
Ever the professional, Zak acts fast, snapping photos of the two of them. As much as I can’t wait to shove these pictures in Arsen’s face later as proof that he’s the dreamiest of dreamboats, I also just can’t wait to have them and treasure them.
Mom slides to the edge of her seat and pushes herself to standing, using the walker Evelyn bought for her. “I think we should get a few of just the young family.”
“Marie, you’re part of the family,” Arsen argues.
She just shakes her head. “You need pictures to capture you all as you are right now—the three of you.”
My heart catches on the idea.
When Arsen stood in Nina’s nursery and told me he’d always be there for us, I didn’t know if I could believe him. But he’s kept his promise for the last seven weeks. Enough that, for the first time, I can imagine a future for us. A world where we create a family in this house.
“How many more pictures do I need to be in?” he mutters grumpily.
I turn to him, cradling the stubbled edge of his jaw until he looks down at me. “Thank you.”
He seems genuinely bewildered. “For what?”
“For organizing this. For helping me preserve this moment—our family, my mother—together.”
“You’re happy?”
I blink back tears. “So happy.”
I barely register the shutter clicking in the background, and then Zak declares that we’re done. While I’m busy thanking Zak, I notice Mom and Arsen talking in low voices that aren’t quite low enough.
“… meant so much to her. And to me.” Mom clasps Arsen’s arm. “I can die in peace knowing my daughter and granddaughter will be well looked after.”
My heart cracks and crumbles. As happy as I’ve been since Nina was born, I haven’t been able to let myself think about losing my mom.
Arsen gives her a genuine smile—one worthy of a photograph.
“You can count on me, Marie.”
“Is something wrong?”
Arsen is next to Nina’s bassinet—a common sight these days. He’s become a regular baby whisperer. Nina even prefers him some nights, which I will never admit out loud, but is nonetheless precious.
Bedtime has become my favorite part of the day. The shadowy blues of dusk when the world goes quiet and it’s just Nina, Arsen, and me in the comfort of our room.
I blink at him, lost in thought and the way the lamplight casts the planes of his bare chest in stark relief. “What?”
“You’re staring.”
I should look away. Or maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t really know.
There have been unspoken lines drawn in the sand. We sleep next to each other at night, but we haven’t actually had sex since before Nina was born. Arsen was in the room when the doctor cleared me to resume all normal activities and then added a not-so-secretive wink in case I missed his meaning.
But Arsen didn’t try anything that night. Or the next.
Now, it’s been two weeks, and still—nothing.
I appreciated it at first. He was being a gentleman, respecting my boundaries and giving me space. Now, I don’t want boundaries or space.
I want him.
“Sorry, I just like watching you with her,” I admit, still not looking away. “It’s beautiful.”
Arsen seems to understand what I mean as he moves towards the bed. “If you liked that, you should see me wrap a swaddle. I could go pro. And warming bottles? I could do it with my eyes closed.”
“You better be careful flaunting these new skills or I might be in danger of getting pregnant all over again.”
All at once, the smile falls from his face. His eyes darken, and I wonder if that line in the sand wasn’t Arsen protecting my boundaries, but him protecting his own. Maybe he doesn’t want to sleep with me. Maybe I just punctured this little bubble we’ve been living in.
Maybe I’m the problem.
“And you better be careful saying things like that to me.” His voice is ragged. “Because it’s all I’ve been able to think about for weeks now.”
I gulp, feeling my insides quiver with longing. “Me, too.”
Arsen closes the distance between us in a couple strides. I rise onto my knees, meeting him at the edge of the bed, and our lips fit together so perfectly that I can’t believe we ever stopped.
He fists my shirt— his shirt, if we’re being accurate—and drags my body against his slowly, sealing us together piece by piece like our skin needs to get reacquainted.
His hands rest on my hips as he crawls onto the bed and gently lowers me onto the mattress. He strokes rough fingers under the hem, tracing the lines of my body as if to memorize each and every one.
“I’ve missed this,” he pants, kissing his way from hip bone to hip bone and from hip bone to sternum. “I’ve missed you. I’ve—I’ve dreamed about this, Laila.”
He works my shirt over my head, and I toss it to the side. The fabric catches on the maze of nipple creams and used bottles my nightstand has become, sending the mess tumbling to the floor.
We both freeze.
Arsen stays pressed between my breasts, only his eyes daring to shift up to mine as he whispers, “Is she still asleep?”
I curl a hand through his hair and peek over at the bassinet. Nina is motionless in the corner, but I watch her long enough to register her slow, steady breathing. I sigh. “She’s asleep.”
“Thank God.”
We both know time is short, but it also seems to stretch and bend around us.
I shove his sweats down, giggling into my hand when the material gets wrapped around his ankle. Arsen kisses me quiet, stroking his hand between my legs until nothing at all is funny—until I’m biting his shoulder to stay quiet, trembling around the firm press of his fingers.
Then—the press of him.
He’s shaking with the restraint it takes not to drive into me when he pulls back, his pupils blown wide. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”
My fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck. “You’re not hurting me. I want this.”
The night is heavy with our breathing, the frenzied gasps of two people who’ve been suppressing their desire for too long.
I hook my leg over his hip, drawing him closer, deeper until we’re rocking together desperately, breathless. I arch into him as my first orgasm in months ricochets through me.
Starts burst behind my eyes. Planets shift out of alignment. My entire universe ceases to be.
And it’s only in that clarity that I realize something.
I grab his wrist. “Arsen, I’m not— I haven’t?—”
He must understand what I mean because before I can even get the words out, Arsen pulls out of me and finishes on my stomach.
“I didn’t even think,” he admits as he collapses next to me. “We were really about to make another baby right there.”
I laugh, shocked by how much I’m not sure I care. “Maybe we should ensure Nina understands the difference between day and night before we have another one.”
For a single second, I’m mortified that I’m talking family planning right now.
Then Arsen strokes his finger through the mess on my body, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “That sounds like a plan. Plus, we have so much lost time to make up for.”
He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a warm washcloth to clean me up, but by the time he’s patting me dry, my skin is buzzing again. He makes to slide off the bed, but I grab his face and pull him to me, prepared to beg for more.
Gentleman that he is, he doesn’t make me.