Page 13 of Plaintive Vow


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As soon as we step through the door, we’re wrapped in the scent of freshly baked pastries and a warmth that can only come from having the oven running for hours on end. Every time we come over, it’s the same, but I’ve never gotten used to it.

I’ve tried to suggest that Mila open her own bakery before, but she’s brushed me off like I’m nothing but a fly buzzing around her head.

Mila looks over her shoulder at us, eyeing me like an intruder before she’s able to wipe her face clear of any expression. It only lasts a moment before she’s back to smiling, patting Daniil on his cheek with a soft hand.

“Privyet,Moma,” he mumbles, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else. I pinch his arm as subtly as I can, and he pulls away, dropping my arm like a hot potato. Mila doesn’t hesitate to speak to him, spitting out Russian so fast that not a single word of it means anything to me.

When she runs out of steam, I smile weakly.

“Hi, Mila.”

She doesn’t even spare me a glance, just loops her arm through Daniil’s and herds him toward the kitchen, urging him to sit next to Niko at the table. I lean against the wall, watching as she pushes plates of pastries in front of them, speaking as enthusiastically as she does quickly.

Niko laughs at something she says, responding much slower.

His Russian will never be as good as theirs, but Mila has made a point to only speak to him in her native tongue since the day he was born. I’m sure she’s furious that Daniil doesn’t do the same, but he had to draw the line somewhere.

Thank god.

If he hadn’t, I probably would have had no choice but to ask for a divorce and make him deal with the consequences. Regardless of the state of our relationship, I like to think he’d rather have me around than be left to raise our son on his own.

Daniil’s phone lights up, and he makes a dismissive sound before he picks it up and walks out of the room. Apparently, all my practice is paying off, because he passes me in a way that lets me know that I’m nailing my impression of wallpaper.

I’m invisible and not worth paying attention to, just another decoration cluttering up his childhood home.

Mila watches for a moment, looking upset before she redirects all her attention back onto Niko, who’s laughing as he munches on the handmade bear claw on his plate.

My mouth waters, but I bite my tongue. She is incredible in the kitchen, but I know the only way I’m going to get my hands on one of Mila’s creations is if either Niko or Daniil ask to take some home. And considering how little Daniil wants to be here and the bottomless pit that is my son, the odds aren’t looking great.

Maybe I’ll drive around town this afternoon and find a bakery so I can get one for myself. It’ll be terrible in comparison to the masterpieces that Mila makes, but at least I won’t have to hand over my pride on a silver platter to get it.

For the life of me, I can’t remember why I insisted on coming along today.

I’ve long since given up any hope of Mila learning to like me, much less considering me family. I don’t like it, but I’ve learned to bite my tongue and take it for what it is.

“Right, Mama?” Niko asks, snapping me back to reality.

Rather than committing to something I can’t promise, I shrug. Mila shakes her head like I’ve given the wrong answer, but it also causes enough of a lull in their conversation that I feel like I can jump in.

“Mila, I’ve been meaning to ask. Would you like to come over for dinner next week? Maybe on Tuesday?”

She might do a great job of pretending she only speaks Russian when I’m around, but I know better. Her English is perfectly fine. Mila learned alongside Daniil when their family immigrated to the States when he was young, helping him with his homework every chance she had.

She looks like she’s investigating me for some hidden motive for my question, eyes narrowed and a line forming between her brows.

“It would be nice to spend time with you, and I know Daniil feels the same way.”

He certainly doesn’t, but a little white lie can’t hurt, right?

She’s the only family he has outside of Niko and me, and even if he doesn’t like it, I don’t want to watch him throw away his relationship with her.

Mila and Daniil are both stubborn assholes, but so am I, and I refuse to let them one-up me.

Her lips are pursed, and for a moment I let myself hope that she’s actually contemplating it. Mila will do just about anything to spend time with her boys, and I’m hoping that my presence isn’t enough to deter her. Then she turns her back, returning her attention to whatever it is she has in the oven.

My blood boils, and I look at Niko and tell myself to bite my tongue.

If it weren’t for him, I’d snap at her. I’d let her know every awful thing I think, and then I’d remind her that the only reason she ever sees her son is because I have to physically drag him here, just to rub salt in the wound.