“I’m not having you waste away.” He forks up some eggs with a shrug. “I just wanted to show you again how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me. It means a lot.”
I set my spoon down and put my hands around the tea. “You do remember this arrangement benefits me, too, right? If Santo went and figured out I lied about being engaged, you know he’d never stop hassling me.”
“Still,” Ilya says, “I know how hard all this has been for you.”
He means the physical wedding.
I take a sip of tea.
“So, I want to make sure you know I'm appreciative of you and this.”
He’s the nicest man. I appreciate him, too, especially since he’s just so matter-of-fact.
A hangover means a lot of food to refuel, but he also went out of his way to not just make a spread, but to make me things I like. After I sprinkle in berries and spoon on some yoghurt and a little cinnamon, I take another bite of probably the most delicious granola I’ve ever had.
As good as Magda’s anyway.
“I appreciate you, too.”
We eat a little more, the companionable silence lovely, a thing I’ve always liked in the morning as it sometimes takes me time to wake fully.
Max was very much a revved-to-the-nines-in-the-morning person, and he’d be up and ready, fully loaded for the day with a whole lot to say.
But he learned to temper it, just as I learned to talk more.
So this… This is nice.
A throwback to when I was a kid.
When we’re done, he starts to clean the plates. I go to help him, but he just gives me a look, so I sit and drink my coffee.
“Are you going to go back to the shelter?”
“I think so.” I stop. This isn’t Demyan or my father. This is Ilya. “Yes. I loved it, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had…purpose. A place to breathe and be.”
And it’s true. When I was there, the sadness in me wasn’t for me, it was for the poor animals. It was nice to do something for them, something proactive, even if it was just petting them.
For a moment, Ilya looks surprised, but then he shakes his head.
“I can be useful.”
“I know. I just…for a moment, I was thinking, here’s this girl who doesn’t have to do anything, but then I remembered it’s you,malyshka. A woman who likes to be helpful, someone with a good heart.”
“Oh, please, I’m no saint.”
He laughs. “Thank goodness. But you’re an amazing, compassionate woman who has always had a soft spot for animals.”
“How do you know?” I demand.
He rolls his eyes. “’Daddy, can I have a pet?’”
He points the dishcloth at me, and though I could remind him there are two dishwashers in here, I think he takes pride in doing them himself.
For a moment, I marvel at that. A new pakhan, strong, powerful, with a lot to prove to the testosterone-filled men and soldiers surrounding him, and he’s wearing a frilly apron and washing dishes.
To me, it’s more masculine than running around barking orders.
To me, it’s perfectly Ilya.
