Roman
“I made you something.”
I look up from my desk and find Nina’s head peeking around the door. “Did you burn it?”
“It’s morozhenoe.” She beams, comes to stand between my legs, and fills a spoon with the ice cream from the bowl she’s holding.
I watch her raise the spoon to my mouth, then lean in and let her feed it to me.
“Igor has been teaching me some Russian,” she declares.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear what you’ve learned.”
“We covered govno, chort vozmi, and skotina so far. Those are his favorites.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I reach for my phone and dial Varya, who answers after the second ring. “Igor has been teaching Nina to curse. Does he have a death wish again?”
“Roman!” Nina grabs my shirt and reaches for the phone, but I move my hand away and kiss her instead.
“No o
