I sigh and follow, doing my best to limit the damage.
He stands on a step stool, scrubbing his hands diligently while I use a washcloth to scrub at the paint that’s drying on my face. He leans forward, trying to scrub at the paint that’s all the way up to his elbows, humming to himself while he nearly faceplants into the sink.
“Careful, little man,” I say, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back to his feet. “We don’t want your mama to think I tried to drown you.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” he giggles. He points at my reflection in the mirror. “You have more paint there.”
“Where? Here?” I ask, swiping the wet cloth against his cheek, smearing more paint. “Or here?” I rub it over his chin. He squeals, pushing my hand way.
“Not me! You!”
“Are you sure? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve got it worse.”
He narrows his eyes and, faster than I can anticipate, turns and rubs his face on my shirt like a cat, turning it into a collage of dirty water and saffron yellow. Then he takes off, giggling ashe runs down the hallway while I turn off the sink and rush to clean off as much of my hands as possible.
“I’ll get you for that!” I shout after him, smiling.
What a little jerk.
I chase after him, knowing that he’s probably making a mess on every corner and wall as he goes. His giggles stop when he ducks behind the door to my office, trying to be sneaky, like he hasn’t just left a trail leading straight to him.
I slow down, deliberately keeping my steps quiet as I approach. If he wants to escape me, he’s going to have to do better than that.
I pull the door open in a rush, picking him up when he falls backward without it to support his weight, tickling him while he screams, and does his best to wiggle free as I cage him against me.
He squirms the whole time I carry him back to the bathroom, only settling when I set him on the counter, determined to get us clean. As clean as we can get, anyway. He doesn’t fight, resigned to his fate. It takes ages, constantly having to stop and rinse off the cloth between attempts, wringing it out before I try again. Despite my best efforts, we’re both soaked by the time we’re clean.
He’s smiling when I help him down, tossing the washcloth into the sink to deal with later.
His tiny arms wrap around me, keeping me from pulling away.
“I love you, Andrei.”
Everything in me stills, unsure how to process that. I’ve been content knowing that he likes having me around, that he seesme as a friend. I figured I’d be able to milk that until he got old enough to start lashing out at me, and I was willing to cross the bridge when we got there.
Him telling me he loves me? I kind of want to cry.
“I love you too, Niko.” My voice is thick, but he doesn’t notice and just slips past me, like nothing out of the ordinary happened. I look at my reflection, startled when I see Blair standing behind me, a gentle smile on her face while she ruffles Niko’s hair as he passes by.
“Hey.”
“Hi. You mind telling me why the hallway is yellow?”
I shrug. “Niko and I liked the color so much, we thought we should spread it out. Doesn’t it make everything look so cheery?”
I put a hand on her hip, urging her closer to me so that I can hold her, breathing in the floral smell of her shampoo while I try to find more stable ground.
“Take your time,” she murmurs against my chest. “But just so you know, I love you just as much as he does.”
“I love you too,zolotse.”
I kiss her, pouring every ounce of my gratitude into it, hoping that it’ll convey exactly how much she means to me. I will her to understand as my tongue moves against her, only stopping when Niko calls down the hall asking when dinner will get here.
Then we sit on the porch, her hand in mine while we wait next to the open door so that the delivery man doesn’t smear the still-wet paint.
Epilogue 2
Blair
