“Morning sickness?” I call, not wanting to bother her.
“Yeah,” she groans. “It’ll pass, I’m sure.”
“You should wear one of your normal maternity dresses to my mother’s house,” I say. “They’re pretty and simple, and she won’t think you’re trying to overdo anything.”
I hear the basin running, and then she comes out after a while. “Overdo anything? You make your mom sound like a monster. Are you sure you’re not overreacting because Luka says your mother is a saint?”
“Remember, Luka is the baby of the family and didn’t have to go through what we went through. My mother clicked that Luka was her last baby, and man, has she treated him like it all thirty-five years that boy’s been alive.” I take her hands. “Please just don’t try to be polite and get your feelings hurt. If you want to go, just nudge me under the table.”
She nods and bites her lips. “Last night…”
“And this morning…” I smile. “Was amazing.”
She is still biting her lip, but this time, I think she is trying to suppress a smile.
I kiss her forehead. “Everything will be fine.”
I pester her the rest of the day to give her tips about how to deal with my mother. She isn’t an easy person to deal with, and I don’t want Penny to get hurt. There’s nothing I can do about my mother, really.
Penny eventually gets tired of my pestering and sends me off to find something to do while she gets ready. I go to my office and sit there for a moment, having a cigar. This is a power play by my mother. I know it’s because of something Danil has said. I need to take back the power.
A thought pops into my head, and I get up, hurrying to the vault in my room. I find the small box I’m looking for and tuck it into my slacks pocket.
I walk out as Penny exits her bedroom in a gorgeous maternity dress. “How do I look?” she asks, twirling around.
“Like my gorgeous pregnant fiance,” I growl.
She doesn’t blush, and I pout. “I prefer it when you blush.”
“You’ll have to find new ways,” she says with a cheeky smile. She kisses me softly.
I smack her on the butt as she walks away, and she glances behind to look at me. This time, she blushes.
I smirk. “It isn’t so hard.”
I decide to drive to my mother in my own car instead of having a driver take us. Every time I try to say something to Penny, she just says. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
It makes me more worried because she’s not the most confident person. I want to believe she’ll be fine, but I also know my mother is very possessive of her children. I fear for the day Luka settles for someone.
I take Penny’s hand as we approach my mother's house. Penny is holding a bottle of non-alcoholic wine in her free hand.
I open the door and let her in, following behind her. “Mama?” I call out.
“In the living room,” Luka calls back.
“Your brother is here?” she asks me curiously.
“They’re probably all here to witness this,” I murmur. “Just play it cool.”
Penny squeezes my hand, and we walk into the living room. “Mama, this is Penny. Penny, this is…”
My mother stands and moves forward, holding her hand out. “Call me Mama Milov.” She takes Penny’s hands. “Such small hands. How will you keep up with the baby?”
“I’ll be fine. Kervyn likes my small hands,” Penny says with a grin. “I brought some non-alcoholic wine. It tastes nice.”
“I will not drink it. People baby their children too much. I drank while I was pregnant, and they all turned out alright. Or do you disagree?” she asks.
“Mama,” I say tersely.
Danil comes in just then and smiles. “Hello, Kervyn. Penny.”
“Is Penny short for something?” my mother asks suddenly.
“Penelope, though people who like me call me Penny.”
“Penelope is the name you were given. I will call you that.” My mother waves her hands about. “Let’s go eat before the food gets cold. Danil, take this strange drink from her and pour her some.”
Penny and I follow her to her dining room. She’s prepared a feast of Russian dishes, nothing Penny will be familiar with.
I want to say something, but Danil gives me a look, and I look at Penny, who is smiling. “This all looks absolutely delicious. Surely you didn’t make this all yourself?”
It’s a dig at my mother. We all know it is. My mother nods. “I used to, but now I have someone who does it for me. Surprisingly good for an American.”
“Americans are good with food,” Penny says.
“I can tell from your size,” my mother sneers.
“Mama,” I hiss.
