She wiped the paint off her fingers before she picked up the small pink jumper her daughter had left there on the floor. When she came into the lounge, however, she saw that it was superfluous. Mikolas was already turning from his desk to scoop their three-year-old into his lap.
Callia stood on his thigh to curl her arms around his neck before bending her knees and snuggling into his chest, light brown curls tucked trustingly against his shoulder. “I love you,” she told him in her high, doll-like voice.
“I love you, too,” Mikolas said with the deep timbre of sincerity that absolutely undid Viveka every time she heard it.
“I love Leo, too,” she said in a poignant little tone, mentioning her cousin, Trina’s newborn son. She had cried when they’d had to come home. She looked up at Mikolas. “Do you love Leo?”
“He spit up on my new shirt,” Mikolas reminded drily, then magnanimously added, “But yes, I do.”
Callia giggled, then began turning it into a game. “Do you love Theítsa Trina?”
“I’ve grown very fond of her, yes.”
“Do you love Theíos Stephanos?”
“I consider him a good friend.”
“Did you love Pappoús?” She pointed at the photo on his desk.
“I did love him, very much.”
Callia didn’t remember her great-grandfather, but he had held her swaddled form, saying to Viveka, She has your eyes, and proclaiming Mikolas to be a very lucky man.
Mikolas had agreed wholeheartedly.
Losing Erebus had been hard for him. For both of them, really. Fortunately, they’d had a newborn to distract them. Falling pregnant had been a complete surprise to both of them, but the shock had quickly turned to excitement and they were so enamored with family life, they were talking of expanding it even more.
“Do you love Mama?” Callia asked.
Mikolas’s head came up and he looked across at Viveka, telling her he’d been aware of her the whole time. His love for her shone like a beacon across the space between them.
“My love for your mother is the strongest thing in me.”
* * * * *