“Why? Did she want to eat them all by herself?”
Varya turns to me, and there is this mischievous satisfied look in her eyes, like a cat who got the cream. “No, Roman. She was mad because they didn’t leave any for you.”
At that moment Nina raises her head, our gazes connect, and she smiles at me. It’s like the sun had suddenly broken through the dark clouds, hitting me with its warmth, and I find myself wishing that this was real and not just an act. Her heels click on the floor as she is approaches, echoing in the big space.
“They ate your piroshki,” she says and puts her hands on her hips.
She is so bloody cute when she is mad. I lean forward, grab her around her waist with one arm and under her knees with the other. Lifting her, I deposit her onto my lap.
She squeaks and wraps
