Can you tell Larissa that we live on the beach? She doesn’t believe me. Tati’s blue eyes—so much like Dmitry’s even though he’s biologically her uncle—blink up at me, and I want to cry.
I’ve said nothing to give Tati undue hope, but clearly, she has it anyway. She still considers the beach house our home, and I want to cling to that small glimmer of wishful thinking.
“We live on the beach,” I tell Larissa, bringing Tati’s forehead to my lips. “Our dining room looks out on the water. It’s very beautiful.”
Larissa looks amazed and turns to tell Annika about our home. Annika is much less impressed—in fact, she looks more curious than anything, inspecting me with a raised brow—but she feigns wonder for Larissa’s sake.
Tati and Larissa meet again in the middle of the container, this time wi
