Page 106 of Born into Chaos

“It’s so cute, Dad,” Sveta tells him, kissing his cheek before she comes to sit down next to me. “Remember when you got me reindeer slippers that one year? Man, I loved those things.” She turns to me and says, “The red noses lit up and they played music when you squeezed the ears.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t annoying at all,” Val says. “Not even when she’d push the damn button over and over again.”

Sveta laughs. “You loved it, and you know it.”

“Maybe the first few times, but definitely not by the hundredth,” he says.

They continue sharing memories while we eat, and I can’t help but think about all the times I was left standing on the outside looking in during these moments. Reaching under the table, I squeeze her thigh, needing the reminder that I’ll never be on the outside again. My place is beside her now, and nothing will ever change that. She threads her fingers through mine and laughs at something her mom says. I’m so happy she had a better childhood than I did. My brother and I made the most of things, but we were never surrounded by this kind of love. Maybe Seryozha would still be alive if we had been. As soon as I startthinking it, I know it’s a mistake. I’ve been down this road before, thewhat ifcycle that never does any good and only ends up sending me into a depressed state that I have no desire to ever be in again.

Sensing my mood change, Sveta turns her head and meets my eyes, searching my face and reading me so easily. Leaning in closer so only I can hear, she whispers, “We’re going to make our own memories, Vitya, and we’ll tell Samantha all about the uncle who would’ve adored her.”

“Have I told you yet today how perfect you are?” I whisper back.

“Maybe once or twice.”

“You need to hear it again. You’re perfect, Sveta, and I love you.”

“I love you too.” She kisses my cheek, but before she pulls away, she says, “And you’re perfect too.”

I smile at how sweet she is and pick my fork back up. By the time the meal is over, I’m convinced I can’t eat another bite, but then Katya brings out the homemade apple pie and ice cream.

Vitaly smiles and wraps his arms around her from behind, leaning down so he can kiss her cheek. “You’ve turned into such an American,ptichka—roast and apple pie.”

“I made borsch last week,” she reminds him.

“And it was delicious,” he says with a grin. Grabbing one of the plates, he starts cutting off slices of pie and scooping out ice cream before passing them around the table. When Samantha squeals, he gives her a wink and says, “Just you wait, baby girl, you’re going to love this when you’re older.”

“Way older,” I say, because her little butt is going to be slowly eased onto food when she’s ready for it. I don’t ever want to hear her screaming like she did the first night at the farmhouse. She hasn’t done it since, and I’m willing to do anything to avoid her having that kind of stomach pain again.

“I do know how this parenting thing works, you know,” he tells me while handing me a plate with enough sugar on it to knock an elephant out.

If I’m being honest, it looks really fucking delicious. And those cupcakes that Sveta loves so much that I love to bitch about? JesusChrist, I could eat the whole damn box myself, but it doesn’t make it right. Good health is a choice, even if it is sometimes completely devoid of fun and flavor. Some battles aren’t worth fighting, though, and as much as I’d love to put my fork aside and climb on up to the moral high ground, I know how hard Katya worked on this meal, and I’m not about to be disrespectful in their home, so I grab my fork and take a big bite. It’s still hot from the oven, and she’s put just the right amount of cinnamon in it. A soft moan escapes before I can stop it, and everyone at the table stops what they’re doing to gape at me. I try like hell to cover it with a cough.

Vitaly points his fork at me. “No one’s buying that pathetic attempt of a cover-up.”

Sveta looks way too proud of herself when she nudges my shoulder, so I give her as innocent of a look as I can muster and say, “I don’t know why you’re gloating.”

“Because you’re enjoying this,” she says, “like really enjoying it. You’re not just taking a few bites to be polite, you moaned around that mouthful of sugar.” She wiggles her brows at me. “Welcome to the dark side.”

“I won’t let you corrupt me,” I tell her.

She just laughs while Val says, “Too late.”

I give up and look across the table at Katya. “This really is delicious, Katya.”

She smiles and tries to make me feel better by saying, “You did eat a big salad with your meal, so it wasn’t all junk.”

“True enough,” I admit, but even though I know nothing could really counteract all this sugar, I still can’t resist eating a bit more. I’m only human, and evidently my sweetpcholkahas corrupted me on a deep level.

I finally put my fork down after eating more than half of it when we hear the elevator doors give a soft ding right before Danil calls out a hello.

“Come in and get some food,” Vitaly shouts out to them.

Danil and Niki come walking in, both with a worn, leathermessenger bag slung across their chests, and the family resemblance has never been more noticeable.

“Thanks, Aunt Katya,” Niki says, taking the plate of pie and ice cream that she’s already filled for him. He gives Samantha’s head a soft pat as he walks by and takes the seat next to Val.

“This looks amazing,” Danil says, taking the next plate and sitting down in between me and Vitaly. “Damn, that’s good.” He smiles at Katya and loads his fork up again.

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