Page 135 of Pack Baby for the Bratva
Ivan was already at the counter with Mila balanced on his hip, examining the menu board with the intensity of a man who has declared that he is now a coffee connoisseur.
Mila was eighteen months old and stubborn, much more than her older brother, but not nearly as bossy. Artem was with Mac looking through the bookshelf, smiling as Mac grumbled that Lena needed more picture books.
Gregor, who was now standing near the door with Fergus in his arms conducting passive surveillance on a café full of university students.
"Does the lavender latte contain actual lavender or is it a conceptual lavender?" Ivan asked the girl behind the till.
She blinked. "It's... a syrup?"
"Acceptable." He turned to Mila. "We’ll try the lavender latte."
"She's eighteen months old," I said. "She doesn't need espresso."
"It's for me. She's worn me out and I needed her to smell the lavender and fall asleep."
"Defeated by a toddler?"
Mila was staring at the scones, her hands making a grabby motion.
“You’re not having anything sticky,” Ivan said.
“Cake,” Mila said, eyes locking onto a cream filled muffin.
“I’m never going to look good anymore,” Ivan groaned.
Artem laughed. “She softens you.”
I bit my lip because Artem was right. But the children softened all of them, not just Ivan. Ivan just always happened to be holding Mila when she had food covered hands. Gregor had some magical sixth sense, and avoided the mess like he knew the future.
“Papa, look at this book.” Mac ran his finger over the picture of a train. At almost three, he had Artem's dark hair and my eyes and a gravity that made elderly women on the tube tell me he was "an old soul."
Artem sat with Mac at a table, taking the book and opening it to the first page and began to read.
Mac frowned. "Can I have a train, Papa."
"It could be negotiable and fun."
"Absolutely not negotiable," I said.
Ivan leaned over Mila’s curls. "Your mother is very strict because she loves us."
"Your father is very dramatic because no one stopped him young enough."
Gregor, now sitting on the other side of Mac, Fergus still on his lap. "I attempted to stop him."
"And yet here we are about to buy a train because your son mentioned wanting one."
Mac showed his teeth like a tiny king.
Near the front window, an old woman sat with a golden retriever at her feet and a scone she'd barely touched. Mila turned and spotted the dog immediately and began tugging at Ivan's collar.
"Down," she announced. "Doggy."
"Ask nicely."
"Doggy, please."
Ivan set her down, took her hand and they approached the woman. Ivan stopped her at a respectful distance. “Ask nicely.”
