9
Sadie
My heart thudded as I pulled into the driveway of my mom’s house at six on the dot. My sous chef had actually seemed relieved when I told her I was leaving early — well, what was supposed to be on time for me. It was hard to let go of the feeling that I wanted to be there to supervise everything and make sure service was as perfect as possible, but Mikhail had a point. I worked too many hours for what I was getting paid.
I would’ve loved to have heard the conversation he’d had with the dean of Tides, who was a notorious tightwad.
Another car pulled in behind me. I recognized it as the vehicle that had taken me to dinner in Seattle — and I supposed the car that ferried Mikhail around whenever he wasn’t driving himself in the Tesla.
I waved at the driver and went in to tell my mom that her ride was here.
“I was so surprised when Misha told me to be ready for this,” she remarked as I walked into the house. She was in the middle of winding a scarf around her neck as the triplets cavorted around the house. They loved any sort of change in routine, embracing the chaos as well as causing it. “He doesn’t really take ‘no’ for an answer, does he?”
“He doesn’t,” I agreed, shucking my coat off and hanging it up on the rack next to the door. “I’m glad he suggested it, though. You deserve a night off.” Something crashed in the kitchen and one of the triplets — Tristan, I was certain — started to scream. “You deserve all the nights off.”
“I can stay.” My mom paused what she was doing. “You’re tired. You just got off work.”
“No way,” I said, pushing her lightly out the door. “They’re my kids. I can handle them. Go. Get all the massages and peels and waxes. Enjoy yourself. Relax.”
“All right,” my mom grumbled reluctantly. “You enjoy yourself too. Misha said he was bringing dinner and entertainment. Not sure what he meant by that.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I agreed. “Now get out of here before these little monsters figure out you’re not taking them anywhere.”
I hurried to the kitchen to see if anything — or anyone — had been broken, mentally kissing my plans for a quick shower and change of clothes before Mikhail got here goodbye. The kids just had too much energy to allow me a moment to compose myself.
“Did Grandma tell you that we’re having a guest tonight?” I asked, bouncing a sullen Tristan on my hip as I tried to corral Cooper and Fern into the living room.
“Yes,” Fern said primly. “His name is Mush and he’s an old friend.”
“Misha,” I corrected her, trying not to giggle. My daughter was going through an odd phase where she would go crazy with rage if someone laughed at her mistakes. I really hoped she got over it before kindergarten.
“Why is he coming?” Tristan asked, rubbing his eyes. He was more irritable than hurt by the fact that he’d sent a bunch of plastic bowls crashing from the countertop to the ground.
“He’s going to eat some dinner with us,” I said brightly. He’s your dad, kiddos! I could’ve laid that one on them, but I didn’t. There was no way I was telling the triplets who their father was before he even knew. Thankfully, none of them were very curious about the subject.
“Sounds boring,” Tristan muttered.
“Well, maybe if you ask nicely, he might want to play,” I said. “What games do you think we should play with him, Coop?”
Cooper just watched me with his big blue eyes. God, he looked just like Mikhail.
“Twister,” Fern volunteered, piping up for her brother. Cooper was the quiet one of the three. Sometimes, I was thankful for it. Tristan and Fern were handfuls all on their own. Other times, I worried. Cooper was perfectly content to sit back and relax and let his siblings chatter and make decisions for him. I wished he would come out of his shell more often. There just wasn’t a ton of time to work with him one-on-one when I was working full-time — and had the other two demanding attention.
Just one of many things I felt guilty about while trying to raise my children.
The doorbell sounded and all three of them — Cooper included — exploded into action. Tristan kicked his way out of my arms and they all galloped to the door to see who it was. Oh, to bottle that infinite energy. I’d never have to sleep again.
Mikhail grinned as I opened the door, lifting several bags out of reach as the kids attacked him.
“What’s in the bag?” Tristan demanded. “Is it a present? Is it for me?”
“Something smells!” Fern observed shrilly. “I don’t like mustard. Is there mustard? I won’t eat it!”
And Cooper — precious, precious Cooper — reached his little arms skyward in an attempt to be held. Even though Mikhail’s arms were full.
“This is Misha, everyone,” I said. “Let’s all back up and give him a little room so he can come in the house without dropping anything. Misha, you’ve met the kids. Tristan, Fern, and Cooper — Coop’s the one you somehow told to freeze as you were coming in.”
Mikhail briskly transferred his bags to one hand and easily hoisted Cooper up with his other arm. “Hello! Thank you so much for letting me come to your house. Are you hungry?”