Page 29 of Sinful Union

She gives me a small smile before slipping out, her heels clicking with quiet finality.

Ana seems to forget all about the picture. It falls to the floor as she comes over for another hug.

“I really miss you, Mama.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, hating how much time I’ve lost.

“I miss you too, baby,” I whisper, tightening my hold on her.

“I don’t want you to leave again.”

I don’t know what to say. I can’t promise her that I’m coming back anytime soon.As long as Pavel lives, as long asherfatherlives, I have to be apart from her.

Ana lets go, stepping back. “Mommy, can you make me lunch?”

“I’d love to.”

For the next hour, I lose myself in the comfort of her presence. We makepelmenitogether, her favorite. The dough is messy, and she gets more flour on herself than in the bowl, but I don’t care.She chatters the entire time, telling me stories about her lessons, her little fingers working carefully as I show her how to fold the dumplings properly.

When the food is ready, we sit down together at the kitchen table. She digs in with a happy sigh, her little feet swinging beneath her chair.

“I’m learning French,” she announces proudly between bites, stuffing anotherpelmeniinto her mouth.

I smile, gently brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “I know, baby. How’s it going?”

Ana scowls. “Camille won’t let me speak Russian during lessons.”

I chuckle. “She’s trying to get you to focus on French during that time, my love.”

“But sometimes I forget the words. And she makes me look them up. It’s mean.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “It’s not mean. It’s how you learn.”

She sighs dramatically, then quickly brightens. “I know some words now! Do you want to hear?”

“Of course.”

She sits up straighter, her little face turning serious. “Je m’appelleAna,” she says carefully, then grins. “That means, my name is Ana.”

I smile. “Très bien, mon amour.”

Ana giggles, then scrunches up her face in concentration. “Je t’aime ma maman!”

My heart melts. “And what does that mean?”

I already know the answer, I just want to hear her say it.

She beams at me. “I love my mama.”

I pull her into my arms, kissing her forehead. “I love you too, my sweet girl. More than anything.”

She hums happily, snuggling against me. “You say it now, Mama.”

I whisper the words in French against her hair, holding her close, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of her. She loves to learn, to prove she’s capable, just like me when I was younger. The tenderness of the moment fills me; a rare peace settling within my chest. That is, until the door opens and footsteps approach from behind. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. The tension in the air tells me before I even see him.

“Uncle Piotr!” Ana exclaims, her face beaming.

“There’s my little muffin!” Piotr strides over, scooping my daughter into his arms. With his free hand, he grabs apelmeniand pops it into his mouth. I stay quiet, and he doesn’t fail to notice.

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