Caring for the Bratva (Steamy Standalone Instalove)

Katya is in here with me, standing at the island as she carefully chops onions, doing it just like I showed her. Her hair has grown long and black, the same color as father’s before it turned moon silver, and she’s got the brightest, most adorable eyes.

She smiles at me, sniffling.

“I’m not going to do it,” she says for the tenth time.

I giggle, holding my hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Mommy, I refuse to cry,” she laughs. “A silly little onion isn’t going to make me cry.”

I move over to the stove, stirring the sauce, and then duck my head to glance into the oven. This is easier said than done because Lucky, Lucy, and Lucifer are staring at the meat like any second they’re all going to pounce on it.

Lucky’s beard has turned proud and white as the years have gone by, and Lucifer and Lucy – the twin Jack Russel terriers – are his little disciples, following him wherever he goes and getting into whatever trouble he starts.

I stroke them each in turn after I’ve managed to steal a glance, seeing it still needs a few minutes.

“You’re nothing if not patient,” I tell them, and they smile.

I can hear Mikey and Liam laughing like mad, our two sons probably wrestling in the hallway, and Eliza is further in the house… at least, I think she’s the one playing pop music, probably dancing around and having a private party. Or maybe she’s dragged her cousins into it like she so often does.

Tiffany’s baby monitor is quiet, telling me she’s sleeping soundly, which is a relief. Of all my babies, Tiffany has been the most wonderfully expressive.

My heart sings when I silently say their names.

Katya, Eliza, Liam, Mikey, Tiffany.

The five children we talked about all that time ago, the life we always dreamed of, we’ve got them, it’s come true.

“What are you doing, Mommy?” Katya asks, calling me out of my reverie.

I smile, letting out a short laugh when I realize I’m just stood in the middle of the kitchen like I’ve forgotten something.

But there’s nothing to forget because everything I could ever want or need is right here.

“Believe it or not, little munchkin, I’m thinking about how much I love you all.”

I know some ten year olds would say gross to this, but Katya has always been a kind hearted soul, even when she was a little kid.

“I love you too, Mommy,” she says, going back to her chopping.

“What about your silly old dad?” Dom smiles, swaggering into the kitchen.

Even after all this time, my heart flutters when I drink in the sight of my husband, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show his bulging forearms, a light dusting of silver dusts across his jaw, his eyes as alert and sharp as ever.

“Yes, Dad,” Katya giggles with an eye roll. “I love you too.”

“But not as much as Mommy.”

Katya laughs again. “Maybe nearly as much.”

My heart sings at this exchange, the way it always does, the inside joke they’ve shared since Katya was a toddler and we told her that Mommy was her first word.

Dom walks over to me, laying a heavenly tingling kiss on my forehead.

“How’re things on your end, Dreamer?”

I smile up at him, letting my hand move over his strong face, feeling his facial hair prick me tantalizingly. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Um, guys,” Katya laughs. “Get a room.”

“We have one,” Dom grins.

Now she says, “Gross.”

We all laugh together, and then Dom walks over to Katya and nods down at the onions. “So how’s it going? You cried yet?”

“Nah uh, Daddy,” she says. “And I’m not going to, not for some silly little onions.”

“That’s right,” Dom says, squeezing her shoulder lovingly as he gazes meaningfully across at me. “There are plenty more reasons to cry around here.”

He’s right.

There’s the fact his business has gone wholly legitimate.

There’s the fact my dog sanctuary has tripled in size and staff over the years.

There’s our family and our joy and our sweet belonging.

In fact, I feel my eyes pricking now.

I sniff, turning back to the stove.

I blame the onions.

Not.