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“I don’t have your number,” I say, still a little dazed.
A ghost of a smirk touches his mouth. “Oh, you do. Search for ‘Future Husband’ in your contacts.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, open it, and sure enough, there it is. Saved under “Future Husband.”
I look up at him, incredulous. “How?”
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting higher. “You make it too easy. 1234 backwards as your password? Really?”
I roll my eyes, heat creeping up my neck as I make a mental note to change my password immediately. What else did he go through in my phone? I don’t have any nudes or anything embarrassing, but still… the thought of him casually scrolling through my messages and photos makes my stomach flip.
I stand up and follow him out of the closet, trailing him into the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
The second the words leave my mouth, I mentally kick myself. Why do I even care where he’s going?
Andrei pauses at the door and turns back to me, that dangerous, knowing smile spreading across his face.
“Missing me already?” he asks, voice low and teasing.
“No,” I answer way too quickly.
He smirks, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re a terrible liar, Rosie.”
With that, he walks out of the bedroom.
I stare at the closed door for a long moment, then look down at my phone again, at the ridiculous contact name he saved himself under. Future Husband. I shake my head, fighting the small, stupid smile trying to break free.
Anya is completely in love with her new bedroom. The soft pink walls, fairy lights, and mountain of stuffed animals have turned her into the happiest little girl I’ve ever seen. She keeps running in and out of the room just to touch everything again.
The last few days have been a strange kind of tug-of-war between Andrei and me. I keep trying to bring up going back to New Jersey, and he keeps shutting it down with calm, firm responses that somehow always leave me without a good argument.
He introduced us to his dogs on the second day, Bruce and Bruno, two massive Caucasian Shepherds. They’re huge, intimidating beasts with thick coats and deep barks that could scare grown men. Andrei had been right; at first, they weren’t friendly at all. They watched me with suspicious eyes and growled low in their throats whenever I got too close.
But now they’ve completely taken to us, especially to Anya. The dogs are now allowed back inside the house, and they follow Anya everywhere like two giant, fluffy bodyguards. She giggles nonstop as they trot after her. Anya adores them.
And she adores Andrei too.
These past few days, I’ve seen a completely different side of him. He makes time for her. He gets down on the floor to play, listens to her endless stories about her toys, and even lets her climb all over him without complaint.
This morning I walked into the living room intending to have the New Jersey conversation again, but the sight stopped me cold. Andrei was sprawled out on the rug, long legs stretched out, while Anya sat beside him chattering away about her favorite cartoon.
He was actually listening, nodding, asking questions, smiling at her dramatic storytelling. The big, dangerous Bratva devil looked completely at peace with my three-year-old using his chest as a pillow.
I couldn’t bring myself to say a single word about leaving. Anya looked so happy. I couldn’t take that away from her.
We just got back from the kiddie park Andrei took us to. Mostly for Anya, I just tagged along. We stopped for ice cream afterward, and now Anya is skipping into the house, her small hand swallowed up in Andrei’s much larger one.
Daria comes to greet us at the door with a warm smile. Anya immediately launches into an excited ramble, telling her every single thing that happened at the park, while skipping off toward the kitchen with her.
I turn to Andrei, my voice soft. “Thank you.”
He looks down at me, brow slightly furrowed. “What for?”
“For today. For all of it.” I glance in the direction Anya disappeared. “She’s so happy.”
Andrei’s expression doesn’t change much, but his voice is steady when he replies, “Anya is my daughter too.”