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“I’m not good at posing,” he mutters. “Or smiling.”
I know that’s not true, but a picture isworth a thousand words.
So I plop our two-month-old in his arms. Instantly, Nina fists her chubby hands in his shirt and gives her Papa a gummy grin. And just as instantly, Arsen’s face transforms. His eyes shimmer, and he smiles down at her.
Ever the professional, Zak acts fast, snapping photos of the two of them. As much as I can’t wait to shove these pictures in Arsen’s face later as proof that he’s the dreamiest of dreamboats, I also just can’t wait to have them and treasure them.
Mom slides to the edge of her seat and pushes herself to standing, using the walker Evelyn bought for her. “I think we should get a few of just the young family.”
“Marie, you’re part of the family,” Arsen argues.
She just shakes her head. “You need pictures to capture you all as you are right now—the three of you.”
My heart catches on the idea.
When Arsen stood in Nina’s nursery and told me he’d always be there for us, I didn’t know if I could believe him. But he’s kept his promise for the last seven weeks. Enough that, for the first time, I can imagine a future for us. A world where we create a family in this house.
“How many more pictures do I need to be in?” he mutters grumpily.
I turn to him, cradling the stubbled edge of his jaw until he looks down at me. “Thank you.”
He seems genuinely bewildered. “For what?”
“For organizing this. For helping me preserve this moment—our family, my mother—together.”
“You’re happy?”
I blink back tears. “So happy.”
I barely register the shutter clicking in the background, and then Zak declares that we’re done. While I’m busy thanking Zak, I notice Mom and Arsen talking in low voices that aren’t quite low enough.
“… meant so much to her. And to me.” Mom clasps Arsen’s arm. “I can die in peace knowing my daughter and granddaughter will be well looked after.”
My heart cracks and crumbles. As happy as I’ve been since Nina was born, I haven’t been able to let myself think about losing my mom.
Arsen gives her a genuine smile—one worthy of a photograph.
“You can count on me, Marie.”
“Is something wrong?”
Arsen is next to Nina’s bassinet—a common sight these days. He’s become a regular baby whisperer. Nina even prefers him some nights, which I will never admit out loud, but is nonetheless precious.
Bedtime has become my favorite part of the day. The shadowy blues of dusk when the world goes quiet and it’s just Nina, Arsen, and me in the comfort of our room.
I blink at him, lost in thought and the way the lamplight casts the planes of his bare chest in stark relief. “What?”
“You’re staring.”
I should look away. Or maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t really know.
There have been unspoken lines drawn in the sand. We sleep next to each other at night, but we haven’t actually had sex since before Nina was born. Arsen was in the room when the doctor cleared me to resume all normal activities and then added a not-so-secretive wink in case I missed his meaning.
But Arsen didn’t try anything that night. Or the next.
Now, it’s been two weeks, and still—nothing.
I appreciated it at first. He was being a gentleman, respecting my boundaries and giving me space. Now, I don’t want boundaries or space.
