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Maybe we are. Maybe that’s the part bothering me.

I look at Anya, curled between us, warm and trusting and completely unaware.

“We can’t tell her,” I whisper.

“No.”

“For obvious reasons.”

“Yes.”

“So, what does that make me?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. I wish he would. I wish he would say something easy, even if it is a lie.

Instead, he looks at Anya too, and his face becomes harder to read. “It makes this complicated,” he says.

I give a small laugh. “That’s your answer? Very romantic.”

“I wasn’t trying to be romantic.”

“Clearly.”

His hand appears on the blanket behind Anya, palm up, close enough for me to take if I want to. He doesn’t reach for me.

That annoys me too. Everything he does annoys me right now, including the parts I like.

I turn back to the movie. “Watch the princess.”

“I am watching.”

“You’re not.”

“I can hear it.”

“That doesn’t count.”

Anya stirs. “Why are you whispering?”

I freeze.

Nikolai says, perfectly calm, “Because you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I’m not asleep.”

“No?”

“No. I’m watching.” Her eyes are half closed.

I brush her hair back from her cheek. “Very convincing.”

She smiles without opening her eyes properly, then looks at the screen. “Why is she called Ella if the movie is called Elle Enchanted?”

“Because her name is Ella,” I say. “Elle is just shorter.”

“Like yours?”

My hand stills in her hair. Nikolai’s hand remains where it is on the blanket.