Leveled: A Novella (Saints of Denver #0.5)(92)

Under the unforeseen circumstances, Sasha decided to close the club up until the following Thursday, re-opening next Friday, giving us all time with our little Lidi bear.

She had adjusted well, if the shrieking giggles were anything to go by. We all fought for her attention, but the place she seemed most comfortable was in Lev’s arms, just watching the world from way up high.

The change in Lev was incredible.

He was smiling more, laughing more, and not even just at Lidiya, at everyone. My sweet man was trying hard to be the daddy Lidiya deserved, but Lev was Lev. He was special that way, and one day, I knew Lidiya would see him for the man he was.

Bunches of flowers started to arrive at the house. Letters of condolences followed. Igor Alkaev politely asked Lev to attend Irina’s funeral, but Lev respectfully declined. He told the man, “I’m sorry for your loss, Igor, but let’s not pretend here. Irina made my life hell in any way she could. I’m sorry she’s dead, but I won’t be coming to her funeral. Neither will Lidiya.”

It was a sad moment, but I was proud of him.

Igor asked Lev if he and his wife would be able to see Lidiya on occasion, and Lev told him he would need to think about it. We spoke about it at length, and Lev called Igor back to tell him that if they wanted to see Lidiya, they would have to come to the house and do so under Lev’s supervision. The old man was offended at the offer and hung up on Lev.

Two hours later, his wife called back and accepted the offer.

We understood they were grieving, but after all the shit they pulled, they were lucky Lev was offering even that. Igor Alkaev did not deserve to see Lidiya, but we both understood they genuinely loved Lidiya, and she should not be punished because their families didn’t get along. The fact Lev was giving them an opportunity to see her at all was a miracle, in my opinion.

I walked into the living room, smiling wide at the sound of Lidiya’s wild laughter. I found her on the floor, kicking through her laughter, with Sasha noisily pretending to eat her belly. “Stop, Asha!” she cried through her mirth. “No mo! No mo!”

It was hilarious to see a man in a suit reduced to this.

Sasha lifted his head. “No more? Are you sure? Because I’m still hungry.”

Another peal of giggles. “No mo. No. Asha pay a me?” she asked as she stood up and ran to the corner, where I set up her tea set.

Sasha checked his watch. “Baby, I would love to play with you, but I need to go.” He walked over to her. “Come here.”

Lidiya was already holding her arms up. I watched from the door as Sasha lifted her and cuddled her tight, holding a hand at the back of her head tenderly. “I love you,” he told her quietly.

She pulled back, puckering her pouty lips. “Kiss?”

Sasha smiled, smacking a loud kiss to her lips before putting her down. “Bye, princess. Be good.”

She sat on the carpet, waving in that way an almost three-year old did, up and down and super floppy. I smiled at Sasha as he went past. He jerked his chin at me and let himself out.

I walked into the room and sat by Mirella. “How are you doing?” I asked quietly.

She let out a long sigh. “I’m doing okay.” She was clearly lying.

“You need a break,” I told her honestly. “You’re exhausted.”

She shook her head, but her mouth betrayed her by yawning. “I’m fine.”

I stood, pulling her up by her arm. “Go. Shoo. Get some sleep. And don’t you dare come down until tomorrow morning. You’re off duty.”

She smiled, blinking tiredly. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” I uttered, gently pushing her out the door. “Now scoot.”

Mirella shuffled down the hall to her room and closed the door behind her. It was nice having her around, but the poor woman needed a break every now and again. It was only natural that she was bound to succumb to fatigue.

Lidiya pulled on my hand, and smiling, I reached down to pick up my chubby bubby. “Hey, you,” I said, smacking a kiss to the plump cheek. “You want to play with me?”

“Pay a me, Eena.” She kicked her little legs, trying to get down. I chuckled and let her feet touch the ground. She ran to the tea set and I followed. She poured pretend tea and we ate pretend cookies, and she said the same thing she’d been saying for a whole week.

“Mama sweeping.”

It broke my heart every damn time. My expression sad, I repeated gently, “Yes, baby. Mama’s sleeping.”

How did you explain to a two-year-old that her mother was dead?

You didn’t. It was distressing enough as it was that she would be permanently separated from Irina, and regardless of how many times I had been told Irina was a bad mother, I was sure Lidiya didn’t see it that way. I liked to believe Lidiya loved her mother. Children were funny that way. When they gave an emotion, they gave it all. I wanted to believe that even Irina was not immune to her daughter’s love.

Lidiya soon got sick of playing and grabbed her blankie, throwing her thumb into her mouth. She approached me like it was no big deal to come on over and curl up on my lap, her legs dangling and her head resting on my chest.

I loved these moments, where it was just me and Lidi, where she gave that love so freely, almost as if she knew I needed it. I knew she wasn’t my daughter by blood, but she was the daughter of my heart.