16. Daphne
16
When I open my eyes, it’s not Pasha I see smiling back at me.
It’s… Melanie?
“Hey, sleepyhead.” She pokes me in the ribs.
“Mel?” I frown and blink a few more times. I must be dreaming. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Visiting you, duh. And playing with my niece.” She giggles and wiggles her fingers, which is when I notice a very calm, happy Taty lying in bed between us. Melanie blows raspberries and tickles Taty’s tummy. “How ya feelin’?”
“Confused.” I sigh and slump back into my pillow. “And also drained. And exhausted.”
“I hear ya. I couldn’t get enough sleep when Maxi and Gentry were born. Felt like I’d sleep for days and I was still so tired.”
“Did you feel like a complete failure?”
Her smile fades a little. “Sometimes.” She looks at me. “But I never once thought either of my babies hated me.”
I close my eyes with a sigh. “Pasha?—”
“—is very worried about you. As am I! That’s why I’m here.” Mel boops Taty on her button nose with the tip of her finger. “And also to spoil my niece. I brought gifts.”
“Of course you did.”
“I wouldn’t be a good auntie if I didn’t. But I’m mainly here to be a good sister. It sounds like you’ve been drowning.”
I roll my eyes, more at myself than anyone else. “That’s putting it lightly. It feels like I’ve been crying since she left my body. I’ve cried every single day. I want to cry right now, but I’m all dried up and my eyes hurt.”
Mel scrunches her face. “Yeah. You’re looking a little puffy.”
I stare at her. She stares back.
Neither of us can hold back the laughter for long. “Shut up,” I groan. “I’m just hormonal.”
“It sounds like you're depressed.” She props her head up on her elbow, still playing with Taty with her other hand. “Have you thought about seeing a specialist?”
“I’m so over specialists. I saw a specialist for breastfeeding, and a whole lot of good that did me. I nearly starved my child.”
“Only because you’re too stubborn for both your good.”
I damn near sit up straight. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Melanie stares me down, completely serious. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t have any way, any way at all, to feed your baby.”
“I don’t want to put her on formula. I can make the milk myself.”
“And what if you can’t?”
I’m suddenly done with this conversation. I sit up straighter and turn away from her, feigning a need to grab my robe. “I can. I just have to keep trying.”
“How long will she survive while you keep trying?”
Something icy cold sinks in my gut. I turn around to glare at her. “How dare you?”
“No. Not this time. How dare you? Acting like Mom and trying to get away with it.”
That line feels like a slap to my face. I’m physically taken aback. Regret flashes in her eyes, but she holds her ground. Just like she always does when she thinks she knows so much.
“I am not Mom?—”
“Say it again.”
I pause. “I’m not Mom.”
Mel reaches over Taty to squeeze my hand. “Again. Say it again. Slower.”
“I… am not…” A different kind of lump forms in my throat. Tears well in my eyes. “I’m not Mom,” comes out in a whisper.
And that’s when I break.
I cry, and cry, and cry. The bedroom door opens, and Asya tiptoes in to take Taty away for some quality sister time. At least, that’s what I think she says. I’m too busy bawling.
Mel crawls across the bed and wraps her arms around me tight. “Shhh. I know. I know. Let it all out. It’s okay.”
Another hand warmly squeezes my leg. It’s Asya, still here, gazing at me with so much warmth and compassion. She holds Taty in her other arm, who watches me with interested eyes.
“I don’t… I don’t…” I don’t want to cry every time there’s a light breeze, goddammit. “I don’t want to be Mom. I love my baby!”
“I know. We all know.” Mel rubs my back. “You’re already so much better than she ever was.”
“She didn’t care about us. She just… just… threw shit together in a bottle and didn’t care what happened to us.” I lean into my sister’s embrace as the sobbing intensifies.
At the same time, it feels like some sort of pressure valve is releasing. Like I’ve been holding on to this pain, this unvocalized resentment towards Ophelia, and only just now realized it.
“You care,” my sister whispers to me. “You care about Taty. You love her.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then you need to get over yourself.”
I hiccup between sobs and blink at her. “What? What do you mean?”
“When I said you need to stop acting like Mom, I meant it. She bottle-fed us because that’s what she wanted, not because it’s what we needed. She told us that all the time. We already ‘ruined her body’, so she didn’t want us to ruin her life, too. I know you want to be better for Taty. Better than our mother ever was.” Mel sighs and moves me back so I’m looking at her. “But you’re going at it backwards. It’s not about breast milk over powder—it’s about setting aside your own pride to give her the best you can. Even if that absolute best is formula.”
“I gave my babies formula.” Asya chuckles when we both look to her with shock on our faces. “What? I’m sorry, but I did. I breastfed as long as I could, but those teeth…” She shudders. “And Pasha wasn’t exactly a gentle babe. Feeding him was like going to war sometimes. I’d rather have him gnaw on a bottle’s nipple than mine.”
I snort, messy and snotty and ultra-embarrassing. But Melanie only laughs and wipes my face with her sleeve. Asya leans over to kiss my cheek, then leaves the room with Taty in tow.
Internally, I’m screaming for her to come back. Don’t take my baby out of my sight. But externally, I know I have to really start handling my shit and getting used to the fact that I can’t helicopter my child every second of her life.
When we’re alone, Mel brushes my hair with her fingers. “So… tell me all about you and Pasha.”
I blush. “We’re, ah… we’re getting married.” I wince, ready for her explosion. “In, like, three weeks.”
“Sounds like we need to go dress shopping. Have you picked your wedding colors?”
“I just said I’m marrying this guy in less than a month. What do you think?”
“I think it’s fantastic. I think it’s amazing. I think—” She frowns when she sees my lack of enthusiasm. “Pause. Why aren’t you giddy? You should be over the moon.”
“I would be—if he actually wanted to marry me. This is just an obligation.”
Melanie stares at me like I’ve just sprouted a tail on my forehead. “I beg your pardon? Since when is he not crazy in love with you?”
“Since I lied to him? Since he basically moved himself into his office?”
“Oh, wow.” She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head. “So you had a disagreement. Big freaking whoop. And then he came back, and it looks like he made things right, or is at least trying to. You know, like a normal couple.”
I’ve never actually stopped to think about it. Not like that. His sudden absence was so jarring, and my guilt over hiding who I was so heavy. I’ve been so sure our relationship was over.
My fingers drift to my lips self-consciously. He did kiss me. Thoroughly. He’s been kissing me, technically, but I’d just embraced that as “being nice” and trying to help me not spiral as much.
“I thought we broke up.” My whisper is barely audible as I try to recalculate everything that’s happened since the hospital.
Mel arches a brow and glances around the room. “Pretty sweet setup for an ex-girlfriend. Whom he’s marrying. Mathematics aside, he could have easily put you in the apartment next door. He doesn’t need you around all the time.”
She’s right. He doesn’t. That thought is almost too heartbreaking?—
“Hey. Hey. Hold your horses. I said he doesn’t need you. He very clearly wants you. On a massive level.”
“Right.”
“Okay. I’m going to pretend like my sister isn’t blind to her own surroundings and just, for the sake of… well, everything, get this all out. Does Pasha have a job?”
I scoff. “Um, yeah. He’s the CEO of a major corporation with tech and military contracts and all that. He’s kind of a big deal.”
“Good to know my blackmail demands just got higher.” She winks at me. “So I’m assuming, with this big hot shot career, he’s got a corporate office? Travels a ton? Meetings with heads of state and all that?”
I nod to everything.
Mel leans forward, a conspiratorial smile twisting her face. “So what the hell is he doing here? Catering to your every need, waiting on you hand and foot? He could have hired someone else to do all that. His mom doesn’t even need to be here; she could just as easily check on you at any other apartment or townhouse or whatever. But he didn’t. He’s right here, giving you his time and his attention above everything else.”
And he bought me a gallery.
“It’s easy to buy someone comfort. It’s a whole other thing showing someone you love them. He’s made it exceptionally clear that he is not only madly in love with you, but he’s in this for the long haul. I think the only thing we’re all wondering is, do you feel the same about him?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
It flies out of my mouth before I even have time to think about everything.
But it’s true.
Mel smiles. “Then show him. The worst that could happen is a thorough explanation of where you stand, but at least then there’s no confusion. The best thing that could happen?” Her smile widens into a beaming grin. “I get a few more nieces and nephews out of it.”
I grab a pillow and smack her with it. “Bold words coming from someone who didn’t just birth a watermelon!”
“I did it twice, actually.”
A knock at the door stops us from engaging in a full-blown pillow fight, which is just as well. We are, after all, supposed to be grown adults.
Pasha pokes his head in. When he sees me smiling, it’s like a huge weight suddenly lifts off his whole body. “I wanted to let you know your masseuse is here. Melanie, I’ll show you our other guest room so you can get comfortable.”
Melanie leaps off the bed and skips to the door. “As long as that includes snuggle time with my widdle baby niece!” She pauses to look over her shoulder at me. “I’ll be back, missy. We have floral arrangements to discuss.”
I watch her dart out, then look at Pasha with renewed confusion. “Masseuse?”
Pasha opens the door wider, ushering in a lovely woman wearing elegant scrubs and carrying a folding massage table. “This is Evangeline. She’s one of the best, and she specializes in prenatal and postpartum care.”
Evangeline gives me a polite nod and smile, but focuses on setting up the table in the far corner of the room.
“Oh, I don’t… This really isn’t necessary.” I scramble off the bed, partly panicking over being away from Taty for this long.
But Pasha catches me around my waist and holds me there. “Yes, it is. Stress isn’t good or healthy for you, and you’ve been through a lot of it.”
The masseuse gestures to the table once it’s standing. “I will step out and wait for you to undress to your comfort level. Please keep in mind that the less clothing you keep on, the easier it will be to access common pain points.”
We wait until she leaves before returning to our discussion.
Pasha’s hands smooth up my sides. “This is exactly what the doctor ordered. Consider it a prescription.”
I turn to look at him with no small amount of skepticism. “Did Dr. Bradshaw actually prescribe me a massage?”
“More like… Dr. Chekhov. And he says you need these regularly, at least twice a week to start.” His gaze wanders down to my chest, and I swear I see heat flicker in his eyes. “Now, be a good patient and let me take care of you.”
I can’t deny the shiver that his low voice sends through me. Or the way his gentle touch as he slips my robe off my shoulders leaves trails of heat along my skin.
If I wasn’t still healing, this massage appointment would need to be rescheduled.
It doesn’t take long for my clothes to pile on the floor. Once I’m completely naked, Pasha sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the massage table, where he lays me down. He grabs the sheet I’m supposed to cover with, but pauses right before he pulls it over me.
The way he looks at me. So much heat and desire.
Mel might actually be right.
He drapes the sheet over my body and leans over me to press a final kiss to my face. “Be good,” he murmurs.
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment. Maybe it’s my hormones. Maybe it’s the part of me that remembers what it’s like to be fearless.
Whatever it is, I reach up to grab him by his hair, pull him closer, and kiss him.
Pasha growls and kisses me back. For a moment, I want him to climb on and give me the kind of massage we’re both aching for.
But responsibility takes over. He pulls away, and I let him. Because I need to.
“Be good.” He wags a finger at me before departing.
I sigh. It was nice while it lasted.