29. Daphne
29
I can’t help but laugh at the mountain of gift bags greeting me at my own door. “Are you starting a whole department store here, or something?”
“I found sales!” Sofi stumbles inside with the bags. “I grabbed the zero-to-three months size. Will that work?”
“She’s growing, that’s for sure. Doctor says she’s finally at her ideal percentile for weight.”
“She’s got her uncle’s stomach!” Mak grins at me over his own stack of packages as the elevator doors close behind him. I reach out to help him balance them on the way into the penthouse, but he dodges me and instead plants a kiss on my cheek. “And her auntie’s attitude.”
Sofi scowls as she drops the bags in the nursery. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”
“It’s not a bad thing… so long as she’s too young to hold a gun.”
“Which won’t happen until she’s, like, thirty.” I level my stare at my brother-in-law. “Look at me. Makari, look at me. Thirty. Not a day sooner.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender once the packages are set down on the table. “I hear you, I hear you. But just remember?—”
“—that I made no such promise.” Sofi grins at me, emerging from the nursery with my baby cradled to her shoulder.
I roll my eyes but let it go.
Mainly because I know they’re probably going to start Taty’s training with dart guns as soon as her little fists can close around a Fisher-Price My First Pistol with the Serial Numbers Sanded Off.
“Do you think you’ll ever want to learn?”
I hesitate. I’ve definitely become more comfortable with the concept of guns—I mean, I have to, considering who I married—but I don’t know if I’m at a point where I can handle handling them.
Mak rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, shit. I forgot. Sorry.”
“No! No, it’s okay. I’m just… not there yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, to be honest.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that. Trust me.”
The door opens again, and Asya comes through with a couple of smaller bags. Judging by the tags, though, Tatyanna is about to have a few more toys for her stuffed animal safari.
“Daphne! Malyshka, come here.” She sweeps me into a warm hug before I can even take the few steps toward her. “How are you?”
“Hi! I’m good. You?”
“Eager to spend time with my babies. Look at you, pretty girl!” She scoops Taty out of her own daughter’s arms and smothers those plump cheeks with kisses. “You are getting big! Such a good girl.”
I check the outer hallway to make sure no one else is planning on barging in before I lock the door. It’s not that I don’t want my in-laws here; I’m always happy to see them. It’s more about the unwanted gifts that a certain other couple keep sending.
Because they know where we live.
“By the way, Daph…” Sofi joins me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “I noticed you got a new blanket throw? On the rocking chair? Interesting pattern.”
I scoff. “You can say it. It’s ugly.”
“I would never?—”
“It’s from my parents.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re not serious.” She looks at me again. “You are. You’re totally serious. Isn’t that a violation against the restraining order?”
I shake my head. “Not when it’s through the mail. They haven’t set foot in this building, but they know where we live. All they do is send gifts for Taty, so… I don’t know.” I sigh. “They’re still her grandparents.”
Sofi rests a reassuring hand on my arm. “I know we talk about family being everything, but don’t get me wrong. Blood doesn’t mean shit when they don’t treat you right.”
“I know. What I don’t know is, should I be worried? They know where we live. They keep trying to get to Taty, and to me, no matter what the law says.”
“Are you worried?”
I use the need to find creamer in the fridge as an excuse to hide my face for the moment. I know that Pasha won’t let my parents get within a mile of us. I know we’re constantly under his protective eye.
But I also know how unpredictable my former parents can be. Every move they’ve made up to this point proves there’s no anticipating their next plan.
So maybe I’m not worried.
Maybe I’m just being… strategic.
“Hey, Sofi? I was wondering…”
She sips her iced coffee and waits for me to continue.
“Would you mind if I started joining you at the gym? And maybe, I don’t know… maybe you could teach me a few things?”
A smile spreads across her face. “Like kicking ass and taking names?”
“Something like that.”
“Sure thing! Just have a talk with Pasha and let me know how that goes.”
With that, she takes her coffee and saunters out to join the others in the living room.
I’m not giving up so easily. “I don’t need to ‘have a talk’ with him just to go to the gym,” I inform her as I follow her. “I can go to the gym whenever I want.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Daph. I’d truly love to help you train. But?—”
“What she doesn’t want,” Mak interjects from where he’s burping Taty on the couch, “is for our big brother to go mental because you didn’t ask him to train you.”
Sofi points at him. “Bingo. He’s weird about things like that.”
I try not to get distracted by the fact that Asya is snapping pictures of Mak and Taty together, all cute and adorable as he poses with her. Her tiny fingers grab his nose and he laughs, nuzzling her hand and chomping on her fingertips.
My heart melts and squeezes and melts again. This is the kind of family my daughter deserves.
This is the kind of family I always wanted.
Focus, Daph. “I’m doing this for me, though. Not… well, not necessarily for him. Yeah, a big part of it is not wanting to constantly feel so helpless that I need my own personal guard all the time. But I also just… I want to feel strong. I want to be strong. I think it will help with overcoming some of this anxiety.”
Asya smiles at me. “I’m proud of you, Daphne. This is a big step to take. You’re already showing your strength by taking it.”
“Yeah, but she needs to talk with Pasha and ask him to train her,” Sofi protests. “I don’t want to get in the middle of him and his ego.”
“That’s her decision, Sofiya. She doesn’t need his permission to do every little thing, but I’m sure she will speak with him—in her own time—when it’s something important in their marriage.”
I’m about to thank Mama for coming to my defense when she levels her gaze at me.
“You do want to speak with him, though. At some point. I love my son, but he can be pig-headed and stubborn as a bull. He’ll get over it, but you’ll need to help him get there.”
Easier said than done.
“We’re just going to go through the basics today.” Sofi adjusts the strap on her shoulder with a sigh. “I’m still not looking forward to Big Brother’s Big Blowup, but hey, girl power and all that.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle Pasha.” I glance over at the front doors to the gym and notice a keypad. “Shit, I didn’t think about getting in. Do I need to buy a membership?”
She looks at me and busts out laughing. “Girl. You’re Mrs. Chekhov. You own the place.”
“I do?”
“Well, your husband does. Anyways, yeah, most people do need a membership. Your face is your reference check, though. That and the asteroid on your ring finger.”
We climb the few low stairs leading to the main door when she stops, scowls, and grumbles something in Russian under her breath.
I start to turn around to see what she’s glaring at, but she rests a hand on my arm.
“Don’t look,” she says through gritted teeth and a fake smile. “It’s the feds. We’re being followed.”
My stomach drops. “Again?”
“They must have figured out this is Chekhov property. Glupyye sukiny deti.” She sighs and rubs the inner corner of her eye. It takes a second for me to realize she’s doing it with her middle finger. “Can’t a girl throw some weights? Damn.”
The door to the gym opens for a sweaty guy sauntering out, so we take that opportunity to slip inside.
The sign inside the door advertising personal training services makes me laugh. I think I’ll be skipping that particular offering. Pasha would blow a gasket over some random beefcake spotting my hip thrusts.
“Like I said,” Sofi reminds me in the locker room, “we’re going easy today. No showing off, no trying to prove a point. The only thing you need to prove is to yourself. And that’s if your body is ready.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t my body be ready?”
“Childbirth is a bitch, man. I know it’s been a couple of months now, but those pelvic floor muscles are no joke.”
“Hey. As long as it gets rid of this pooch, I don’t care what we do.”
She drapes her arm around my shoulders and leads me out onto the main floor. “Glad to hear it. Let’s see how long you’ll still feel this way.”
I think Sofi’s certain her methods will scare me away. Maybe they’re meant to; she was pretty adamant about not going behind her brother’s back.
But I’m just as stubborn as he is.
I’m not backing down on either front.
She keeps her promise in terms of going easy. Sort of. We start out on the treadmills. Every so often, she reaches over to increase the incline and bump up the speed. “Keep your breath steady. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
“While running up a mountain?” I wheeze.
“A slight incline. But also, yes.”
Shit. I am way out of shape.
A familiar face beams at us from across the room—and I’m suddenly filled with the wind and energy to not completely wipe out in front of Asya’s boyfriend.
Arlo strides over to us, towel draped over one shoulder and a water bottle in his other hand. “Look who’s here!”
“Can we pretend I’m not?” I gasp. “At least until I’m a total badass?”
He chuckles. “You married Pasha Chekhov and bore his child. You’ve accomplished more than just ‘badass.’”
Hearing him say that in his deep Russian accent actually does make me feel like I’ve conquered something.
Even when this machine is about to conquer my lungs.
“Did you see our friends out front?” Sofi asks him.
Arlo grins. “Of course! I tried inviting them inside for a workout.”
“You did not!”
This seems like the perfect time to slow my pace on the elliptical. To a stop. While no one is paying attention to me.
Except Sofi still is. Damn her and her crazy sharp peripheral vision. She hands me a towel without looking at me and bumps the speed right back up.
It’s insane that I’m a sweaty mess and she’s glistening like a dewy supermodel. I hate her.
“I told them they’re welcome in for a round of racquetball. They didn’t like my idea of a few rounds of boxing.”
Sofi matches his grin. “I imagine not. You’d smoke them.”
“That I would.”
It’s almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. The glint in the way he looks around, the way he moves, even the way he smiles. He’s standing here like a regular guy at the gym, talking about regular stuff.
But I’ve been in Pasha’s world long enough to figure out Arlo Fedorov is a dangerous man.
“If you run into our friends again, would you let my brother know?” Sofi asks him.
Arlo nods. “Of course. I already texted him when I got here. Your mother, too.”
I insert myself into the conversation. “Hey, while you’re mentioning everything you see, could you maybe… not mention seeing me here?”
He glances at Sofi. Then back at me.
I sigh. “I just want to do something for myself. As myself. On my own. Well…” I look to Sofi because credit is due. “… mostly on my own.”
He doesn’t think twice about it. Just shrugs and takes a swig from his water bottle. “I see no one here but Sofiya,” he says with a wink to me. “Women are allowed to live their own lives, you know. Have secrets. Be mischievous. It’s what makes you such fascinating creatures.”
As he saunters off to go do whatever it is that men like him do in their spare time, I can’t help but notice Sofi’s worried expression. “You okay?”
She shudders. “I’m not sure. Mama keeping secrets is one thing, but him saying it’s ‘fascinating’? It’s weird.”
“I think it’s sweet. And kinda fun to watch play out, not gonna lie.”
“For you.” She side-eyes me.
“She’s happy. He makes her happy.” I give her a gentle little nudge. “And I think he makes you happy, too. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“Okay. That’s it.” She gulps down some water, snaps her towel at me, then nods at the free weights. “I’m about to kick your ass.”