6. Daphne
6
“She looks weird.”
I stifle my laugh. “Aww, Gentry. She’s so pretty! Just like your sister.”
My six-year-old nephew makes a face as he peers down at Taty. “Why is her face all scrunched up like that?”
“Gentry!” Mel swoops in to scold her son, but surprisingly, Pasha takes over.
He winks at my sister, then crouches down next to Gentry—who does not know this man or what his deal is. The look he gives Pasha is almost funnier than the one he gave Taty. “She does look a little mushed, doesn’t she?”
Gentry nods. “And wrinkly.”
“I bet I did, too, when I was born. All babies have to squeeze through a really tight spot to get here, so their faces look like this.” Pasha presses his hands to either side of his face until his cheeks and lips puff out.
Oh my God.
I have to cover my mouth with my hand before I do an absolute spit take all over the father of my child. Who is this man?!
I swear, I’ve never met this Pasha before. He laughs when Gentry mimics him, and the two start making weird sounds and talking to each other through squished mouths until Gentry dissolves into a fit of giggles.
Mel looks at me, every bit as flabbergasted as I am.
Jameson rolls his eyes with a chuckle and scoops up my sweet little niece, Max, so she can come see the baby. Even though she’s only two years old, her eyes widen when she sees Taty’s face and she gasps. “Oh! So pretty!”
Cue the chorus of “awww”s in the room. I hold up Taty a little more so she can get a better look. “Pretty baby?”
Max nods and reaches out to touch her tiny button nose. “Pretty baby. So pretty.”
My heart is so full. It’s been a day of rest and intermittent visits, starting with Pasha’s mother and her… friend? If that’s what we’re calling him?
And not long after they left to grab some breakfast, Sofi and Mak stopped by to check in and coo at Taty.
Now, my sister and brother-in-law are here with their children. To be surrounded by love and family… what more could I want? This is all I’ve ever dreamed of.
I finally have it.
Taty starts to fuss, her telltale whimpers the only warning before the squalling begins. She’s probably sleepy since Pasha just changed her and a nurse gave her some formula to supplement our breastfeeding misadventures.
“We’ll head on out,” Mel says to me as she herds Gentry away from the bassinet. “I’ll give you a call and see how you’re doing later.”
“I love you.”
I also love my niece and nephew, who I make sure to give kisses to before they leave. Jameson squeezes my free hand and nods to Pasha with that brand of stoic, unsmiling respect that men seem to love so much.
They’re almost to the door when it swings open.
And my heart plummets into my stomach.
My parents are here.
Stewart and Ophelia Hamish balk at Melanie like they’re staring at a ghost. It’s almost comical because they look like they’re just coming from a beach vacation—Stewart in cargo shorts and a floral polo, Ophelia in her signature sundress and a huge floppy hat, and that stupid weekender bag she always insisted on carrying around “for towels and the like.”
Ghost from the past or no, nothing stops them from shouldering their way into the room, uninvited and definitely unallowed by the blacklist I established with Pasha.
“What are you doing here?” my mother hisses at my sister.
“I could ask you the same thing!” I try to swing my legs around so I can storm out of bed, but Pasha presses a firm hand to me to keep me there. “How did you find us? You’re not supposed to be here!”
“Not supposed to—Daphne, darling, we’re your parents! We’ve come to see our grandchild!”
I’m literally shaking with rage. “You need to leave. Both of you.”
“Sir! Ma’am! I told you!”
One of the charge nurses tries to squeeze past everyone to get to my parents, who pretend like they can’t hear her.
“You cannot be in here! You are not an approved guest!”
Stewart scoffs. “We’re the kid’s grandparents, for God’s sake. We have every right to be here.”
“No, you don’t.” Melanie steps between them and me. “Now, please, leave before we have to call security.”
“Security is already on the way,” the nurse huffs.
“There. See? Now, you really need to leave.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Stewart whirls on Melanie, completely ignoring the fact that there are children in the room. “You and that mouth of yours! Why not just get on your knees and put it to some real use for once? It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
Mel and I both gasp. Jameson turns fifty shades of furious, and he steps forward to put an end to this once and for all. He opens his mouth, but before he can?—
“Stewart. That is enough.”
All eyes shift to Pasha. Gone is the playful, fatherly man who was squishing his face with Gentry. In his place is the Bratva overlord, streaming with unholy rage as he looms damn near to the ceiling and swallows up my parents in his shadow.
“Apologize to your daughter,” he growls. “Now.”
“Or you’ll what?” Stewart sniffs and holds his head up high. “I only have one daughter and I sure as hell don’t owe her any apology.”
Ophelia rolls her eyes with a dramatic shake of her head and shoves past him. “Oh, calm down, you two. Acting like it’s the Third World War. We’re only here to see our precious granddaughter!”
Her voice pitches into a singsong squeal the closer she gets to Taty, but I don’t care. I don’t want her talons anywhere near my child. “We already told you?—”
“Get the hell away from her!” Mel shoves Ophelia back so hard that the woman stumbles against a wall. “Get out!”
The door slams open and at first, I think it’s security finally here to end this. Instead, it’s Mak and Sofi, followed by Asya, and all three of them are on the warpath.
For my parents’ sake, security probably would’ve been safer.
“She told you to leave,” Asya hisses at Ophelia. Stewart reaches for her to pull her away, but Mak is quicker and wrenches his arm back.
Cries erupt. Pure chaos. Chaos everywhere.
“Get off me!”
“Where is security?”
“Mel, grab the kids and take them to the car!”
“I just want my granddaughter!”
“You are not welcome here!”
“I swear to God, if you lay a finger on my daughter?—”
“You put your hands all over mine!”
“You sick fuck?—”
“Alright, alright!” Security finally arrives and fills the room to capacity. Too many bodies in here, shoving and pushing and yelling. “Everyone out! Only the parents and the approved family are allowed to stay!”
I close my eyes. Try to sink deeper into the pillows. If I’m lucky, they’ll swallow me up and keep me insulated until all this is over.
Eventually, finally, the pressure deflates along with the crowd. Ophelia and Stewart escort themselves out the door, their hands in the air so security won’t drag them out by the scruff of their necks.
Jameson sighs and shakes his head. Then he looks to Pasha, seemingly uncertain of what to say. He settles for a handshake, a grateful nod, and ducks out to meet Mel and the kids in the parking garage.
Asya is the first to rush to my side. “Malyshka. Sweetheart. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
I shake my head. “Not… physically…”
She clicks her tongue and strokes my hair back. “You are strong. You are beautiful. You have a wonderful family of your own, and new family in us. You are far better off than they are, and people like that cannot stand for it.”
“Thanks.” She does, somehow, manage to make me smile.
“Now, Sofi and I will spend some time with little Taty while you and Pasha get some much-needed rest. Sound good?”
I nod. “Yeah. She’s probably asleep by now, though. She’s been so quiet through all the mess.”
“Hey, Pash.” Mak stares at the bassinet, then looks up to his brother. “You have Taty, right?”
Pasha’s fists—which are clearly not holding our daughter—clench. That vein in his jaw starts throbbing. His voice, when it comes out, is halfway between feral and fearful. “Someone better tell me they have my daughter here in this room.”
“Maybe the nurse?” Sofi suggests. Without waiting for an answer, she flies out of the room to check.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. The nurse probably took her for a routine check-up; it was just easier without the bassinet.
“Daphne? Honey? Breathe. Breathe with me. It’s okay. She’s fine. She’s just?—”
“She’s not with the nurse.”
Sofi is the palest I’ve ever seen her when she returns to the doorway. She looks to Pasha, her eyes wide and brimming with panic. “The nurse never took her. They planned on coming back later once everything was calm.”
“So…” Mak swallows hard. “Where is she?”
My eyes scan the room. The bassinet is empty. Every corner is, too. There’s nowhere else she could be.
“Taty?” I cry. “Tatyanna? Where is my baby?!”