20. Paying The Toll
Paying The Toll
The overpowering smell of motor oil hits me the second we step out of the car.
I've grown oddly fond of it over the years, how it always reminds me of my brother, of his crushing hugs or teasing nudges. Piotr’s shop bustles with life, tools clanking, a radio spilling old Polish rock ballads.
His house next door seems a haven of peace by comparison.
Aga opens the door before we even knock, Kacper balanced on her hip. The scent of fresh bread greets us and I take in a deep breath, my mouth already watering. “Well, well,” she teases, eyes flicking over me and Dominik. “You both survived date night.”
Dominik grins, steps inside, gives Aga a quick cheek kiss, then drops into a crouch beside Zosia. She’s cross-legged at the kitchen table, a bowl of Cheerios turning into gray mush beside her elbow, utterly forgotten. Her whole face lights up when she sees him.
“Tatu?!” she squeals, launching herself into his arms. Once he lets her go, she thrusts her drawing toward him, crayon-smudged and bright.
“Bunnies!” she declares proudly.
Dominik studies it with exaggerated seriousness. “That is the best bunny family I’ve ever seen. But—” he taps the soggy bowl “—those bunnies would say to finish your breakfast.”
Zosia groans but dutifully takes a reluctant bite, milk coating her chin, before diving right back into coloring, tongue poking out in concentration.
Dominik ruffles her hair, then glances at Aga. “Piotr in a good mood?”
Aga jerks her chin toward the shop. “Waiting to hear how things went so he can decide what mood to be in. Be ready to fix a car or two while you talk.”
Dominik laughs, presses a kiss to my temple in passing. “Time to see Piotr and receive his blessing. Send some prayers to Mary.” He drops a kiss to Zosia’s head on his way out, though she doesn’t even look up, too intent on her page.
The house stills when the door closes, just the scratch of crayon against paper and my tiny nephew gurgling, tugging at Aga’s hair.
I crouch beside Zosia, smoothing the paper flat, my heart swelling at the riot of orange carrots and hopping shapes.
“I love bunnies and carrots. One to pet, one for snacks. Never get the two confused, or a bunny might bite you back!”
She giggles, launching into an explanation about her bunny family. Aga sets Kacper in his bouncer, then leans against the counter, watching me with a knowing smile.
“So,” she says at last, folding her arms. “How was it?”
Heat prickles up my neck. I smooth Zosia’s hair, stalling. “How was what?”
Aga laughs, low and sly. “Don’t play innocent with me. I can see it all over your face. Cheeks rosy, that glow.” She sips her coffee slowly, eyes glinting. “Your brother gets the same look, after. I know what it means.”
Zosia sings to herself, oblivious. My throat tightens with embarrassment and warmth. “It was… good,” I admit softly. “Better than good.”
Aga’s smile gentles, voice lowering so Zosia won’t catch. “He needs someone like you. Someone steady. I’m glad it’s you. He’s a good man, a good father. He’ll treat you right.”
Her words land like a blessing, one I'm not sure I even deserve. Zosia thrusts her drawing into my hands, milk drying on her chin.
“For you!” she says, beaming.
“Dzi?kuj?, kochanie, (Thank you, sweetheart) " I whisper, hugging her close.
The garage is open, morning air spilling in with the smell of oil and steel.
I make my way in, silently enough to overhear as much of Piotr interrogating Dominik as I can before they both discover my espionage.
I watch them through the crack between the hinges, the hood of an old Opel lifted like a curtain on their conversation.
Dominik takes time rolling up his sleeves, setting the tool box between them, an orchestra of man-code, then slaps Piotr on the back. “I’m here to pay my toll.”
Piotr doesn’t look up. “Which one’s that?”
“The one for dating your siostrzyczka, (little sister)” Dominik says, leaning against the wall with a grin. “I was told it costs sweat and humility.”
That gets Piotr’s attention. He turns his head, rag tossed over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Humility? From you?”
Dominik laughs, crossing to the toolbox. “Come on, I was never that bad. Besides, you know how I feel about Kasia.”
Piotr studies him for a second, then nods.
“I know you’ve always wanted her, those fucking puppy eyes whenever she was around.
Always thought it was a crush, or some fantasy cooked up from too much porn and not enough sense.
” He wipes his hands on the rag, looks up, voice steady.
“This time, I helped you with her, because I trust you. I watched you after Lena left, watched you raise Zosia on your own. You grew up. I put my neck out for you, brat. So don’t let me down.
Be serious about it, don’t hurt her. Or I'll have to be her big brother over yours.”
Dominik doesn’t flinch. He just nods once, firm. “We didn’t get less serious last night, Piotr, we got more. If it's anything to go by, I'll sign us up for Pre-Cana today.”
“No we?! (Come on!)” Piotr groans, throwing up his hands. “She's still my siostrzyczka, I don’t need the details. Keep it to yourself.”
Dominik bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he hands him a wrench he never asked for, “Deal.”
Piotr smirks, grabbing the other end of the wrench. “Good. Now grab the jack. You’re not leaving without grease on your hands.”
Dominik chuckles, crouches to grab the jack, then joins beside him as the clang of tools and sound of the radio fill the space again, two men working shoulder to shoulder, testing and proving, the weight behind their easy banter unspoken but understood.
When he steps out to grab another tool Piotr sends him for, he catches me eavesdropping. I freeze, spin around, leaning against the car like it was all part of the plan. He huffs a laugh. “Satisfied? Heard enough?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, all innocence. “I just came to say good morning to my brother.”
He keeps his eyes on me, but calls out, “Piotr, doktorka’s here to give her morning greetings.”
Piotr doesn’t even look up from the engine. “She was never good at listening through my door as a kid either, as graceful as a buffalo. If she’s done spying, she can fix something or let the men get back to work.”
Dominik cracks up, and I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Good morning to you too, brother!”
“Dzień dobry, siostra. Daj mi piwo, (Good morning, sister. Grab me a beer)" Piotr shoots back.
Dominik just shrugs, gives me a quick peck before turning back toward the car. I sigh, muttering under my breath as I march off toward the fridge. It's too early for beer. Too early for his teasing.
When I bring the beers, they’re laughing, hands streaked with oil, radio still playing that same old ballad. I stand back a moment, watching them, the morning sun catching in Dominik’s hair, on Piotr’s grin, and for a moment it feels like the world’s exactly as it should be.
When lunchtime rolls around, everyone crowds the kitchen.
Aga calls from the stove, Kacper perched on her hip again, watching her cook contentedly.
The aroma of roasted meat and dill waft through the house.
Piotr presses a kiss to her temple, another to the bump under her shirt she’s trying to hide.
“Two down, maybe this one will listen,” he jokes, and she swats him, laughing.
Dominik slides in behind me, his arm brushing mine as I set the table. “Feels like a new tradition starting,” he murmurs, and it does.
After we eat, the men drift back to the garage, arguing about carburetors, while Zosia and I claim the sofa. She curls up against me, my phone in hand as we play a silly game together. Each time she wins, she beams, pointing at the screen. “Auntie Kasia, I won!”
I cheer like she’s conquered the world. “Of course you did, kochanie.”
Aga joins us, settling into Piotr’s chair, feeding Kacper and rocking him until his eyelids flutter closed, the house feels full.
Later, when the men come back smelling like oil and sweat taking turns in the shower, we start dinner together.
Me, Aga, and Zosia, rolling dough and chopping onions, making pierogi the way our mothers and grandmothers did.
Zosia dusts flour across the counter like snow, giggling as she presses each dumpling closed.
When we finally all sit down, it feels easy, peaceful.
Like it’s always been this way. Dominik sits across from me, laughing at something Piotr says, and I realize how rarely I’ve stopped to just take this in, all of it.
Family, laughter, warmth. Maybe I’ve been too busy with work, too tangled in my own head to notice how much this smile, this life, already has its arms open for me.
The drive home is peaceful at first. Zosia’s asleep in the backseat, a drawing crumpled in her small hand.
The streetlights slide across the windshield, soft and golden.
Dominik reaches for the stereo, scrolling through stations until the opening chords of my favorite song by The Riven Altar fill the car.
My stomach drops. I freeze, then reach over quickly to switch it off.
“What?” he asks, glancing over. “I thought you loved them?”
“I do,” I say too fast. “I just… don’t want to wake Zosia.”
He frowns but lets it go, nodding. “Alright. They do say those guys are arrogant. Probably true. Wouldn’t surprise me.”
I force a small smile, a shrug. “Maybe. Obelus was alright when we met.”
He goes still. The kind of stillness where your brain is suddenly sprinting and your body hasn’t caught up yet. His hand hovers over the steering wheel, then tightens.
“You’ve… met him?” His voice is careful. “Met as in met?”
Shit.
I stare straight ahead. The traffic light washes the car in dull red and I feel it in my cheeks.
“I—yeah,” I say lightly, like it’s no big deal. “Met him. Through work.”
Dominik blinks, turns fully toward me at the light. “And this is the first time you’re mentioning it?”
“We met, through work. That's all I can say.” I answer, keeping my tone calm, doctor-mode smooth.
His eyebrows rise. “So he was your patient?”
“I like my license, so I'm going to pretend I didn't hear your question.” He nods, finally understanding what I'm trying to say, without saying it.
He shoots me a sideways grin. “Should I be worried I’m competing with a rock star now?”
I bump my arm lightly into his. “No. You just have to keep my attention.”
That gets him. His expression softens, all stupid warmth and quiet pride, and he reaches for my hand across the console.
“Oh, don’t worry kochana, I can definitely do that.”
Crisis averted for now, but the truth lodges in my throat.
I can’t hear Rafe’s voice, not tonight. Not when the echo of Goodnight, Kasia is still in my bones, still whispers through every silent moment.
He hasn’t sent anything since, and I’ve fought the urge to reach out.
Hearing him now would only complicate things.
Dominik breaks the silence after a while. “You could come back with us tonight,” he says softly. “Zosia would love that.”
“I need actual sleep,” I say, smiling faintly. “Not the kind we wouldn’t be getting at your place." I deepen the hold, twining my fingers with his. “I’ve got charts to close and laundry to do, but I’d rather be with you both.”
He squeezes my hand, eyes soft in the dim light. “Maybe soon, all those things will be under the same roof.”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
When he pulls up in front of my place, he doesn’t move right away. The car idles. Zosia snores softly in the backseat. Then he turns to me, both hands cradling my face.
“I love you,” he says, voice rough. “You know that, right? This isn’t just fun when there’s a babysitter. It’s serious for me.”
“Don’t let Piotr get to you,” I say, smiling.
“It’s not about him,” he says, shaking his head. “It's about you. About us. I mean it, Kasia.”
And then he kisses me, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for doubt. When I finally pull back, breathless, I realize he doesn’t have to say it again. I already know.