Solnyshko’s.
Like our rings.
“I also got your name tattooed on me.”
“How…” I swallow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you would’ve noticed it by now.”
“I didn’t know it was a word.”
“You do now.”
I lean over and kiss the tattoo, but more the scar from the bullet. “No one will be able to hurt you anymore. I promise.”
“I should be the one who says that, wife.”
“Well, I’m capable of protecting you, too, husband.”
“For now, worry about protecting yourself.” He sits me down on the sofa, then lifts my feet and removes my flats. “See? I told you the swelling had gotten worse.”
Like every day, he places my feet on his lap and rubs them with slow, soothing circles.
I release a contented sigh and lean my head back to enjoy the sensation.
“How many times do I have to tell you that whenever you feel them getting more swollen, let me know, Sasha? If I don’t check regularly, you become like this.”
“It’s okay. They don’t hurt that much.”
He shakes his head and continues with his task for more than fifteen minutes. Once he’s done, he helps me stand up, and I freeze as I feel something wet splashing down my thighs and then onto Kirill’s shoes.
We share a look.
It seems like our little boy is looking forward to seeing us as much as we’re looking forward to seeing him.
We smile as the realization hits us.
We’re officially going to be parents today.
EPILOGUE 2 — KIRILL
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
I’m annoyed, and it has everything to do with all the people crowding my house.
Remember when I said I hate Christmas?
Now, I’m willing to take the Grinch’s position and turn into the number one plotter of sabotage.
Last year, we spent it at Anton and Maksim’s new mansion in Russia, but this year, they came over, accompanied by this little shit Mike, who won’t leave Sasha’s side.
Am I jealous of a nine-year-old? Possibly.
Turns out, he’s the one she was talking to on the phone years ago and telling him that she missed him. And here I thought he was a lover who I’ve been planning to assassinate for years.
That idea is still plausible if he keeps stealing my wife’s time as if he’s entitled to it. Not only do I have to put up with his presence twice a year, but he also calls her daily.
She gets worried when she doesn’t receive a call from him or Maksim.
Another asshole who’s at the top of my shit list. How dare he have a crush on her when she was dressing as a man?
And no, the fact that he’s gay is irrelevant. He still looked at what’s mine, and I’m not a fan.
Thankfully, Anton isn’t a fan either, and we share the same level of pettiness.
It’s the one thing that’s allowed us to get close over time.
That, and the fact that our respective partners are still best friends, despite our best efforts.
I share a look with him from across the room, and we shake our heads at the scene in front of us. Sasha and Maksim are helping Mike assemble some new toy she got him for Christmas.
My brother and his wife are reading the instructions, a bit too focused on the mundane task.
Karina, however, is chasing her nephew and niece as they squeal and break into a fit of giggles.
My son, Vaughn, is obviously the smartest one, because he leads his aunt in circles and then breaks her rhythm. Lidya, however, is just a little ray of sunshine and stupidity, because she gets caught easily.
Although she does have her moments of toddler intelligence, because whenever she gets frustrated, she hides behind Vaughn for protection and even makes faces at Kara.
My son and my niece look nothing alike. While he has dark hair and his mother’s chameleon eyes, she’s a platinum blonde with her mother’s features. The only thing she got from Kosta is her eyes.
Lidya was born exactly two weeks after Vaughn, but unlike him, she likes to behave like a child.
Sasha always reminds me that they are children and that I can’t roll my eyes just because they act like an irrational drama king and queen.
The two people who are in love with these children the most are Anna, who’s the ambassador of their healthy diets and habits, and Karina. She’s spoiling them rotten as expected, but what wasn’t expected is how much they’ve helped her regain control of her life.
She’s no longer scared of the outside world, and the blasphemous little shit even asked me to give her Viktor now.
No kidding. My sister actually stood there and said, with a straight face, I might add, “Hey, Kirya. I want Viktor, so give him to me.”
For the past couple of years, she’s been openly flirting with him while he’s been trying to pretend she doesn’t exist.
I did tell him that he’ll lose his dick the moment he touches her, to which Sasha laughed and said that wouldn’t be happening.
She’s encouraging bad habits that I won’t be standing for. Of course, no one will know that I’d rather Karina be with him instead of an outsider. He’s the only one I can call a friend. He’s never doubted me, never shied away from calling me on my shit, and he’s responsible. Sometimes, too much so.
The problem in this equation is really Viktor. He thinks Karina is too spoiled and high maintenance, not to mention the fact that she’s my sister, so he refuses to touch her, even with a ten-foot pole.
Now, he’s helping Anna with opening presents and not giving Karina one sliver of his attention. Which is wise, considering I’m around.
Vaughn gets bored with his aunt’s antics and runs in my direction. I crouch to catch him, and he wraps his tiny arms around my neck.
“Papa!”
“Hi, little one. Who won?”
“Me!” He points a thumb at himself and sighs. “Kara too slow.”
“I’m not slow, you little demon!” She tries to catch Lidya, who squeals and runs to her mother.
“She is slow,” I whisper to him, and he grins.
“I heard that!” Kara glares but continues on her mission with her niece.
“Mama, Mama.” He opens and closes his palms in her direction.
“Seems your mama doesn’t have time for us today,” I grumble loud enough for her to hear.
She lifts her head, and I’m trapped by how beautiful she looks. Her long blonde hair falls freely down her back, and she’s sexy as fuck, even while wearing hideous Christmas pajamas. Everyone but Anton, Viktor, and me are wearing those ugly things.
Kosta is included in the happy go lucky crowd. He was so easy to convince when his wife got him a matching set.
Sasha gives Anton the piece of the game she was holding and walks toward us.
“Did you need me?” she asks in a soft voice.
I adjust my glasses. “No, we’re mad at you.”
“Mad at you,” my son repeats like a good sidekick and even crosses his arms.
“You say he’s a drama king, but I wonder who taught him?” She nudges me with her shoulder. “I’m certainly not petty and I don’t keep glaring at everyone so they’ll leave.”
“I’m ready for this whole week to be over so I can have you to myself.”