13. Maggie #4
His hand touches my lower back, warm and careful. “Then look at me.”
I turn toward him, and the calm in his face makes it easier to breathe. “You're getting’ real good at holdin’ me together,” I say quietly.
For the first time since the fire, I think maybe we’re all going to be okay.
After dinner, Ivy sprawls across the rug in the sunroom with Winston while I stretch out on the sofa. Daisy claims her usual spot against my side, her body pressed to my hip.
Roman disappears into the office to take a call, but Alexei stays with us. He occupies the opposite end of the sofa with paperwork balanced on his lap, though I suspect he's spent more time watching me than reading anything.
We're halfway through chapter six when Ivy suddenly looks up from the book resting in her lap. “Maggie?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” I ask, brushing my fingers absently through Daisy's fur.
Ivy watches me with that serious little face that always makes her look older than six. “Why won’t Papa let you carry anything?”
I freeze.
My eyes find Alexei’s across the sofa. He sets the paperwork aside and gives a small nod.
Now.
Oh boy.
I draw in a slow breath. Daisy lifts her head and nudges my hand until I scratch behind her ears, and Winston raises his chin from the rug as though he can feel the sudden tension in the room.
“Come here,” I tell Ivy.
She climbs onto the sofa beside me and scoots closer until she's tucked against my side. Winston abandons his spot on the rug and rearranges himself across Ivy’s lap, resting his chin across both our legs.
Daisy presses herself more firmly against my hip like she’s appointed herself emotional support.
“There’s somethin’ we need to tell you,” I say, brushing a strand of hair away from Ivy’s cheek.
Her eyes widen. “Am I in trouble?” she asks, looking nervously at Alexei.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
“No, solnyshko,” he assures her.
I take a careful breath, aware of how important this moment is.
Ivy has lost more than any child should.
She has learned too young that people can disappear, that love can be ripped away, and safety isn’t always as solid as adults promise it is.
I want to give her joy, but I also need to give her certainty.
“You know how families sometimes get bigger?” I ask.
Ivy nods slowly. “Like when people adopt dogs.”
I smile. “Exactly like that.”
She considers this seriously, one hand stroking Winston’s ear. “Okay.”
“There’s a baby growin’ in my tummy.”
Silence fills the sunroom.
Ivy blinks several times. “A real baby?”
I nod, keeping my voice calm. “A real baby.”
She stares at my stomach, then stares some more. Beside us, Daisy inches even closer and rests her head in my lap. Ivy finally places both hands over her mouth.
“A baby,” she whispers.
“Yep,” I say, my own throat tightening.
A long pause follows, and I prepare myself for tears, confusion, or any one of a thousand perfectly normal reactions. Instead, Ivy looks up at me with a question that breaks my heart wide open.
“Will you still stay with me?”
I pull her into my lap before remembering halfway through that Alexei would absolutely object. Too late. Ivy wraps both arms around me, and Daisy climbs across both of us, apparently deciding this family moment requires her participation, too.
“Always,” I whisper into Ivy's hair while scratching Daisy behind the ears. “You hear me? Always. A baby doesn’t change that.”
Ivy relaxes against me as if those are the only words she needed.
“Okay,” she says.
“That's very generous,” Alexei says from the other end of the sofa.
She nods solemnly. “I can teach the baby how to draw.”
“I think the baby would like that,” I tell her.
“And share crayons,” she continues.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
“And Winston,” she adds, looking at the dog.
Winston nudges Ivy's knee with his nose as if volunteering himself for the job.
“And Daisy too,” Ivy says, wrapping one arm around her. “The baby has to love Daisy.”
“That seems like a very reasonable rule.”
Daisy gives a happy wag as if she agrees.
Ivy twists around to look at Alexei. “Papa?”
“Yes, solnyshko?”
“Are you happy?”
The question surprises him. I see it in the slight widening of his eyes before his expression softens.
“I’m very happy,” he tells her.
Ivy studies him. “You don't look happy.”
A startled laugh escapes me.
Alexei exhales through his nose. “That’s because I’m thinking about all the ways to keep the three of you safe.”
“Me, Maggie, and the baby?”
“Yes.”
Ivy considers that. Then she climbs off my lap and crawls onto the sofa beside him. Alexei wraps an arm around her.
“You're gonna be okay, Papa,” she says, patting his cheek.
Something in Alexei's face changes. “Yes,” he says. “Because I have all of you.”
I have to look away before the tears burning my eyes become obvious.
“The baby can share my crayons,” Ivy informs him seriously, “but not the glitter ones unless I say.”
Alexei smiles. “That seems fair.”
“And Maggie stays with us.”
His eyes meet mine, and something tender passes between us.
“Yes,” he says. “Maggie stays.”