14. A Date With Training Wheels
A Date With Training Wheels
Piotr leans in the doorway, smug grin plastered across his face like he’s been rehearsing it. “What? You’re both so good with kids, twice the help. Now we can actually enjoy our dinner.”
I shoot him a glare that should reduce him to ash. “Piotr…”
He just shrugs, thoroughly unrepentant.
Aga hurries in behind him, all flutter and nerves, half-apologetic, half-smiling in that guilty way that tells me she’s absolutely in on it.
“I’m so sorry, Kasia, I didn’t realize Piotr had already asked Dominik too…
” She waves a hand like the overlap is a happy accident.
“But really, it makes sense, doesn’t it?
If you get called, at least you won’t be alone. Easier for everyone.”
My jaw tightens. “Convenient.”
Dominik looks up then, eyes meeting mine. There’s the tiniest tug at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. Just… waiting. I open my mouth, ready to tell them all where they can shove this little matchmaking ambush but then Zosia spots me.
“Auntie Kasia!” She launches herself at me, arms wide, nearly toppling the whole block tower in her enthusiasm.
And just like that, I’m trapped. No way to spin on my heel and storm out, not with her tiny arms wrapped around my waist, her face lit up like Christmas because I walked through the door.
I sigh, leaning down to hug her tight. “Well, looks like I’ve been outmaneuvered”
Before I can peel Zosia off, Aga swoops over, baby already nestled against her shoulder. “Since you’re already here…” She presses Kacper into my arms before I can protest. His little fist curls tight around my shirt instantly, big dark eyes blinking up at me like I’m his whole world.
“His bottle’s ready,” Aga says quickly, smoothing a hand over her skirt like she’s already halfway out the door. “If he fusses, just heat it, it should settle him.”
“Aga—” I try, but she’s already shoving her purse strap onto her shoulder.
“I remember how,” Dominik’s voice cuts in, smooth and maddeningly steady. He rises from the rug, brushing off his hands, looking directly at me. “If you need the bottle, I can get it ready.”
The way he says it, like we’re a team already, makes my pulse trip. Zosia clings to my hip, Kacper clutches my shirt, and suddenly there’s no escape hatch left. I’m doubly trapped.
Piotr beams like he’s won the lottery. “See? Perfect. We’ll only be a couple of hours. Don’t text unless the house is on fire.”
The front door barely clicks shut behind Aga and Piotr before Zosia tugs at my sleeve with all the force of a hurricane in a tutu.
“Auntie Kasia, read me a story!” She already has a book in hand—some fairytale with a dragon on the cover and she’s bouncing like I promised her candy.
“Let me sit down first,” I protest weakly, juggling tote bag, shoes, and the very solid baby currently drooling on my shoulder.
Kacper chooses that exact moment to let out a wail, tiny body stiffening in my arms. My heart leaps. I can do surgeries, laser procedures, handle panicked adults, but one squalling infant can undo me.
Before I can even panic, Dominik heads to the kitchen, does whatever magical warming ritual is needed and is right there.
He takes the bottle, testing it against his wrist like he was born doing this.
When Kacper keeps fussing, he doesn’t hesitate, just lifts him gently out of my arms and settles him against his chest, big hand cupping the baby’s head.
He starts pacing the room, low murmurs in Polish under his breath, nudging the bottle into his mouth until he takes it.
Kacper stops almost instantly, hiccupping from greed after a minute, into the fabric of his shirt. He chuckles. “Not so fast, huh?”
“Show-off,” I mutter, sinking onto the couch.
He glances up, grinning, the kind of grin that knows it’s earned. “It’s not a contest, doktorka. But if it was…” He bounces Kacper lightly, smug as hell. “…I win.”
I roll my eyes with an unimpressed sigh. Zosia doesn’t care about either of us, shoving the book into my lap like a drill sergeant. “Now, Auntie. You promised.”
“I did no such thing.” But I open it anyway, curling her into my side as she nestles down, head on my shoulder. Her hair smells like baby shampoo and crayons. My voice falls into the rhythm of the story almost automatically, years of babysitting my cousins dusted off.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Dominik pacing slow circles, Kacper’s tiny hand gripping his shirt, the rise and fall of his chest steady as a metronome. He looks like he belongs that way. Like the chaos doesn’t bother him, like he’s lived in it long enough to turn it into calm.
When I finally glance up from the book, our eyes meet across the room. For a second, the whole world is just this: me reading, him rocking, kids tucked against us like some impossible family portrait. My stomach flips.
Zosia jabs my ribs. “You missed a page.”
“I did not,” I protest.
She narrows her eyes with all the authority of a Supreme Court judge. “You skipped the dragon roar.”
“Ah, you’re right. How could I?” I lift my chin, and bellow a roar so over-the-top it almost rattles the lampshade. Zosia shrieks with laughter, nearly tipping off the couch.
Kacper stirs at the noise, whimpering, but Dominik just chuckles low, bouncing him back into calm. “You’re scaring him, doktorka.”
“Dragons are supposed to be scary,” I shoot back, cheeks warm.
“Mm. Maybe stick to medicine. Acting’s not your calling.”
I gasp in mock offense. “That was award-winning.”
He shakes his head, smiling down at the baby like I’m ridiculous and he’s enjoying every second of it. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Zosia claps her hands. “Again!”
“Your aunt’s going to lose her voice,” Dominik says, finally easing onto the opposite end of the couch with Kacper still snug against him. “Then who will read your story?”
“You can.” Zosia smirks, devious. “You’re good at it.”
He shoots me a look over her head, half-challenging, half-playful. I fold the book closed, pretending I’m off duty. “Well? Don’t keep the audience waiting.”
So there we are—him rumbling through dragon lines in an absurdly deep growl, me correcting his pronunciation of the princess’s name, Zosia cackling at every misstep. Kacper sleeps through all of it, dead to the world against his chest.
It shouldn’t feel like anything. Just babysitting, just family and the neighborhood boy I've known all my life. My annoying brother's friend. But the ease of it, the laughter, the domestic little brushes, they hit deeper than I expect. I can’t look at him without seeing how natural he is in this space, how warm his voice gets with a baby in his arms. Worse, I can’t quite look away.
Zosia’s eyelids droop halfway through the second dragon story. By the time Dominik growls out his final roar, she’s slumped against me, thumb tucked in her mouth.
“Come on, ksi??niczka,” I whisper, sliding her off my lap. “Time to make you a fort.”
Her eyes pop open instantly. “Fort?”
Dominik lifts a brow at me as I carry her upstairs to Piotr and Aga’s bedroom. “A fort?”
“It’s tradition,” I say firmly. “Babciu used to make us little caves of blankets whenever we stayed over. Said monsters couldn’t find us if we spoke only in Polish under them.”
“Sounds like your Babciu,” he says, voice low and amused.
“She forced us to speak Polish all night,” I add, grinning. “Piotr used to fall asleep halfway through his sentences.”
Dominik chuckles, while I shake out a blanket and Zosia piles pillows. Together, we build a crooked little hideaway at the foot of Aga’s and Piotr’s bed. Zosia wriggles inside clutching one of Kacper's stuffed bears, delighted. “Ale fajnie!” she declares, voice muffled under the sheet.
“Sleep, dragon slayer,” I murmur, tucking the blanket edge tight.
We tiptoe back out, and Dominik settles Kacper into his crib. The baby sighs, fists clenching in sleep. For a moment we both just stand there, watching his tiny chest rise and fall, caught in the spell of him. Then, like people waking from a trance, we drift down to the kitchen.
The place looks like a battlefield: toys, dishes, bottles. We start picking it all up without speaking, the rhythm strangely easy, natural. I rinse plates at the sink while he dries, our shoulders brushing now and then in the small space.
Finally, I glance sideways. “So this was your plan?”
He blinks. “My plan?”
“Yes.” I wave the soapy sponge at him. “Trap me here with two kids, force me into fort construction, show off your baby-whisperer routine.”
His smile crooks slow, but there’s sincerity under it. “You think I could convince Piotr and Aga to risk their date night? This is a miracle only their combined stubbornness could pull off.”
I laugh, shaking my head, but something in the air softens. He leans back against the counter, watching me with an openness that makes my chest tight.
“You take to it,” he says. “A natural.”
I scoff, rinsing another plate. “Too much babysitting the cousins, that’s all. Doesn’t mean I’m built for it.”
But he doesn’t let it go. “Lena… she never really wanted to be a mother. Not in her heart, everything about it seemed to irritate her. But you—” his gaze flicks toward the fort Zosia's tucked into upstairs, then back to me “on you it looks easy.”
I freeze with the dish towel in my hand. “Easy?”
“Like it belongs to you, matczyna mi?o?? (motherly love).” he says simply.
Something flickers through me. Too much, too tender. I deflect fast. “Well, you clearly love it, being a father.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Guess so. My heart was wrapped around Zosia the minute I saw her, can't imagine a different life now.”
The silence that follows is heavy, charged.
I turn, bumping into him by the fridge, his shoulder broad against mine, his hand brushing mine as he reaches for a towel.
Close, the kind of close that makes my breath falter, that pulls my gaze up to his mouth before I can stop myself.
His eyes drop to mine and everything slows.
Kacper whimpers from his room, bursting into cries.
We both startle, the spell shattered. He scrubs a hand down his face, mutters something about checking his diaper.
I grip the counter hard enough to sting, reminding myself to breathe.
Dominik disappears upstairs to settle Kacper.
I sink onto the couch, heart still hammering from that almost-kiss in the kitchen, cracking open the book Zosia pressed into my hands earlier.
The words blur; I’m not really reading, just trying to steady myself.
A few minutes later, the soft pad of footsteps makes me look up. Dominik leans against railing, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Dragon defeated. Baby asleep.”
I roll my eyes, holding up the book. “I’m on page three. Clearly, I’m winning too.”
He chuckles and drops onto the couch beside me, close enough that the cushion dips under his weight and I catch the faint scent of baby powder clinging to his shirt. For a moment, we just sit there, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in sync.
When I glance over, his gaze is already on me.
“Kasia—” he starts, voice low.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s both of us. His mouth finds mine, all the distance I’ve tried to keep snaps like a bowstring. I laugh against him, half-delirious, because this is insane, we’re on Aga and Piotr’s couch, kids asleep upstairs.
He laughs too, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Shhh, doktorka, you’ll wake them.”
“Me?” I gasp, grinning as his lips trace back to mine. “You’re the one—”
“Making you laugh?” he teases, kissing me again, harder this time.
We tumble sideways, tangled, the kiss turning hot, urgent, a rhythm we’ve both been holding back too long. My fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard lines of muscle, and he groans into my mouth like it’s been killing him not to.
Then we both freeze, breathless, the weight of the house pressing in, the still rooms, the tiny breaths of children asleep. I press my forehead to his, whispering, “We can’t.”
He nods, grinning, still too close. “I know.”
My lips brush his again, soft this time, lingering. “We really can’t.”
“We already look like a married couple,” he murmurs, thumb stroking my cheek. “Sneaking this in between feedings and dragon slaying.”
That makes me laugh, true and helpless, until he adds with a wicked grin, “For the record, doktorka, I’m definitely breathing fire.”