3. Blair
Blair
N iko’s practically bouncing in his car seat by the time we pull up in front of Mila’s house. Before the car has even stopped, he’s struggling to free himself, and when I let him out, he’s more of a hindrance than a help, but he’s smiling so wide that I don’t dare say a word.
It helps mute the dread that I’m feeling; his happiness is a beacon I refuse to disturb.
Daniil stands to the side, scrolling through emails on his phone and only looking up when Niko sprints to the door.
We both hang back, watching as he practically skips up the stairs, waiting impatiently by the front door.
Taking a deep breath, Daniil slips his phone into his pocket and reaches out to take my hand.
“Let’s get this over with,” he grunts, face grim, like he’s preparing to march into battle, certain that neither of us will make it out alive.
“She’s your mother. You only have to be pleasant for ten minutes. ”
His shoulders roll back, but before he can retort, Niko’s standing on his tippy toes and pressing the doorbell. Not even ten seconds later, Mila opens the door with a wide smile, arms open wide so she can hug her grandson.
“Baba Mila!”
They hurry inside, voices a flurry of Russian that I’ll never have a shot of keeping up with. Daniil rolls his eyes and steps back toward the car, jerking to a stop when I slip my arm through his.
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss through my teeth. “You are not leaving me here again.” I can only sit politely and be ignored for so long before I snap, and I’m not interested in starting a fight with my mother-in-law today.
Honestly, I’m never interested in fighting with her, but there’s only so much that I can take when she goes out of her way to make sure I know she doesn’t want me here.
I play nice because my son adores her almost as much as he does Daniil, and because I don’t need to do anything to widen the gap between me and Daniil.
Not that I think he’d mind if I told Mila to crawl into a hole and stay there, but still. It’s the principle.
I plaster on a polite smile and drag my husband through the front door, even though just the looming shadow of this house makes me shiver.
As soon as we step through the door, we’re wrapped in the scent of freshly baked pastries and a warmth that can only come from having the oven running for hours on end. Every time we come over, it’s the same, but I’ve never gotten used to it .
I’ve tried to suggest that Mila open her own bakery before, but she’s brushed me off like I’m nothing but a fly buzzing around her head.
Mila looks over her shoulder at us, eyeing me like an intruder before she’s able to wipe her face clear of any expression. It only lasts a moment before she’s back to smiling, patting Daniil on his cheek with a soft hand.
“ Privyet, Moma,” he mumbles, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else. I pinch his arm as subtly as I can, and he pulls away, dropping my arm like a hot potato. Mila doesn’t hesitate to speak to him, spitting out Russian so fast that not a single word of it means anything to me.
When she runs out of steam, I smile weakly.
“Hi, Mila.”
She doesn’t even spare me a glance, just loops her arm through Daniil’s and herds him toward the kitchen, urging him to sit next to Niko at the table. I lean against the wall, watching as she pushes plates of pastries in front of them, speaking as enthusiastically as she does quickly.
Niko laughs at something she says, responding much slower.
His Russian will never be as good as theirs, but Mila has made a point to only speak to him in her native tongue since the day he was born. I’m sure she’s furious that Daniil doesn’t do the same, but he had to draw the line somewhere.
Thank god.
If he hadn’t, I probably would have had no choice but to ask for a divorce and make him deal with the consequences. Regardless of the state of our relationship, I like to think he’d rather have me around than be left to raise our son on his own .
Daniil’s phone lights up, and he makes a dismissive sound before he picks it up and walks out of the room. Apparently, all my practice is paying off, because he passes me in a way that lets me know that I’m nailing my impression of wallpaper.
I’m invisible and not worth paying attention to, just another decoration cluttering up his childhood home.
Mila watches for a moment, looking upset before she redirects all her attention back onto Niko, who’s laughing as he munches on the handmade bear claw on his plate.
My mouth waters, but I bite my tongue. She is incredible in the kitchen, but I know the only way I’m going to get my hands on one of Mila’s creations is if either Niko or Daniil ask to take some home.
And considering how little Daniil wants to be here and the bottomless pit that is my son, the odds aren’t looking great.
Maybe I’ll drive around town this afternoon and find a bakery so I can get one for myself. It’ll be terrible in comparison to the masterpieces that Mila makes, but at least I won’t have to hand over my pride on a silver platter to get it.
For the life of me, I can’t remember why I insisted on coming along today.
I’ve long since given up any hope of Mila learning to like me, much less considering me family. I don’t like it, but I’ve learned to bite my tongue and take it for what it is.
“Right, Mama?” Niko asks, snapping me back to reality.
Rather than committing to something I can’t promise, I shrug. Mila shakes her head like I’ve given the wrong answer, but it also causes enough of a lull in their conversation that I feel like I can jump in .
“Mila, I’ve been meaning to ask. Would you like to come over for dinner next week? Maybe on Tuesday?”
She might do a great job of pretending she only speaks Russian when I’m around, but I know better. Her English is perfectly fine. Mila learned alongside Daniil when their family immigrated to the States when he was young, helping him with his homework every chance she had.
She looks like she’s investigating me for some hidden motive for my question, eyes narrowed and a line forming between her brows.
“It would be nice to spend time with you, and I know Daniil feels the same way.”
He certainly doesn’t, but a little white lie can’t hurt, right?
She’s the only family he has outside of Niko and me, and even if he doesn’t like it, I don’t want to watch him throw away his relationship with her.
Mila and Daniil are both stubborn assholes, but so am I, and I refuse to let them one-up me.
Her lips are pursed, and for a moment I let myself hope that she’s actually contemplating it.
Mila will do just about anything to spend time with her boys, and I’m hoping that my presence isn’t enough to deter her.
Then she turns her back, returning her attention to whatever it is she has in the oven.
My blood boils, and I look at Niko and tell myself to bite my tongue.
If it weren’t for him, I’d snap at her. I’d let her know every awful thing I think, and then I’d remind her that the only reason she ever sees her son is because I have to physically drag him here, just to rub salt in the wound .
But Niko deserves more than that, so I stew silently until Daniil finally comes back.
Turning toward him, I raise a single brow, but as pissed as I am, he looks even worse. His jaw is clenched, and his fists are held even tighter by his sides. He looks pale. I try to ask him what’s wrong, but he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into a tight embrace before I can.
“Let’s get out of here, yeah? I have to make some calls.” There’s a slight tremor in his voice I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before.
What happened to shake him up this bad? He was fine before he left the kitchen.
“Something came up, Moma. We have to head out.” He doesn’t wait for her to acknowledge him before he’s pushing me toward the door.
I pry myself free long enough to say goodbye to Niko, but Daniil hardly takes his eyes off me.
“ Zhdat! Daniil!” she calls, and he turns around for a moment, but he doesn’t stop walking while I struggle to keep up with him. She gives me a brief look, grinding her teeth together. “Could you come over for dinner this week? You, me, and Nikolai?”
Like that, all my worries about Daniil’s sudden mood swing burn to ash as my anger rushes back in to take their place.
“Are you fucking serious ?” I hiss, hopefully quiet enough that Niko doesn’t hear me. I extended an olive branch, and she’s going to use it to beat me away? And of course, she had to do it in the language I actually speak. Where the hell does she get off ?
“ Da , sure, Moma,” Daniil replies absent-mindedly, already turning his attention back to his phone. Mila beams, and I’m ready to rip them both a new asshole, but he wraps an arm around my shoulder, urging me to the car before I get a chance. “Blair will pick him up at four.”
Four? That’s hours earlier than I typically pick up Niko. The whole point of letting Mila baby-sit him is so they get to spend a full day together.
He rushes us out the door before Mila’s even finished celebrating, the storm door slamming shut while I dig my heels into the ground, refusing to move.
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
I’m not dealing with that woman again until she manages to find a shred of decency in her spiteful, rapidly aging body.
He purses his mouth but doesn’t say anything, just keeps pulling me to the car like I’m not fighting him at all.
I slam my door shut behind me, tuning in my seat to glare at him.
“Listen, I know she’s unbearable, but I need you to do this for me,” he tells me.
I cross my arms, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“No,” I object. “I’ve tried with her a hundred times, and I’m sick and tired of being invisible. And I’m sick of you letting her treat me like that.”
He checks the mirrors as he pulls onto the street, not sparing me a single glance. “Yeah, well, I had to move up a meeting that I can’t risk being late to, so I can’t do it.”
“And what part of that means I have to pick him up early? He’s going to be furious, and we both know Mila won’t back me up when I tell him it’s because you said so.
” I’m so sick of being the bad guy. I’m always the one who has to tell Niko that plans have to be pushed back, or that he can’t do something, or to make sure he does the many little things he hates.
Daniil’s silent until he pulls into the driveway. I expect him to get out or say something else, but he stares straight ahead. Eventually he clears his throat and turns in his seat so he’s facing me, tension lining the corners of his eyes as he works his jaw.
“Daniil, what’s going on? Why are you changing plans last minute?” He wraps a hand around the back of my neck, pulling against me until he’s able to rest his forehead against mine. “Is everything okay?” He closes his eyes and swallows.
“Yeah, babe. It’ll be fine.” He presses his mouth against mine in a slow kiss. “I have to work late tonight. Someone made a big mess, and I have to clean it up. I just want to make sure you and Niko are home before I leave.”
We stay that way, breathing each other in until I nod.
He might piss me off and make me miserable more often than not, but I’m not going to pretend that I want to make his life harder.
If Daniil just wants to make sure we’re home so that he doesn’t have to worry while he’s working, then I’ll find a way to make it happen.