Ah, right, this meant they would be moving back in. Back home. As lovely as the flat was that she had with Dmitry and Anya, it wasn't home--arguably more homey, but it was not their home. Maybe she had simply never wanted to accept that it had been likely they would not be coming back to this place again, but either way, this felt much better.
"And the kids, too," she reminded him between kisses. "Anya will be so--happy to see you."
How long since she'd let him see their daughter? Did he know that she talked now, that she asked for him? Dmitry might not be overjoyed by the situation, but the only thing Ophelia wanted to do more than spend the night with her husband right then was to bring her daughter back to her father. There was a lot of lost time for the two of them to make up together.
But it was Ophelia's turn first. She smirked against his lips and tugged at back of his shirt insistently.
Yes, her first.
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