He looks up. “Um, sure?”
“Wanna join us? It looks kinda lonely on your end of the plane.”
“Uh, okay. Sure.”
She sits back down and gives me a cheesy smile. “See? Wasn’t that easy?”
“Everyone was fine with the previous seating arrangements.”
“I wasn’t.” She gives me another smile and reaches for the gingersnap cookie the flight attendant gave her.
“Be nice,” she warns me as Yulian slips into the vacant seat next to Lev.
“So how’d you enjoy London, Yulian?” Jessa asks.
“Loved it.” He gives her an amused grin. “I mean, it had everything. Intrigue, mystery… romance.”
That last one is definitely aimed at Jessa and me. His smile turns mischievous. I wonder if my brother has an off button when it comes to beautiful women.
“Romance, huh?” Jessa asks, taking it in stride. “Is there something you want to tell us, Yulian? Did you meet a special lady in London?”
Lev snorts. “Yulian doesn’t really discriminate between special and not so special. As long as she has a functioning pussy, she’s game."
“Charming,” Jessa drawls.
“Sorry,” Lev replies, though he doesn’t look apologetic whatsoever. “Crude but true. That’s good enough for Yulian.”
“Are you calling me a manwhore behind my back, Lev?” Yulian asks in his mock-hurt voice.
“No, I’m calling you one to your face.”
All three of them laugh, and I realize that there’s a tentative sense of comfort between my two closest Vors and the woman who’s carrying my child. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before.
Marina wasn’t exactly the easiest woman to get along with. Lev avoided her, and Yulian was his usual immature self around her, though he never paid her any special attention.
But Jessa softens them. They banter and smile with her. She seems to know how to engage each of them in unique ways, drawing them out.
I can’t help but wonder if she's done the same thing to me.
At some point, Yulian drifts off to sleep, Lev takes his headphones and laptop out, and Jessa slumps lower in her seat.
She sighs deeply. “I want a thousand more of those cookies.”
I hand her my silver plate. “Here’s two to start with. The other nine hundred and ninety eight will take a bit longer to arrange.”
“I can be patient,” she teases.
“Are your cravings kicking in?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But really, it’s just nice to have an excuse to eat.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Have you needed one in the past?”
“No. But people look at you weird when a hundred-twenty pound female finishes a whole T-bone steak by herself.”
“That’s a sight I’d like to see,” I laugh.
She looks over at me, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “You know something? You’re not as scary as I once thought you were.”