Page 102 of The Russian Retribution

“A girl!” I gasp, gazing up at Erik. “A girl.”

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, then he falls silent as the doctor brings the baby closer and gently eases her into my arms. She’s the smallest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, with red skin and a wrinkly face and a wide mouth showing off her impressive lungs as she cries.

“My baby,” I cry, cradling her as gently as I dare. “Oh, my God. Oh, myGod.”

“You did amazing, Mama,” the doctor says, and she vanishes from view to clean me up.

Nothing else matters to me, though. This tiny human in my arms suddenly becomes my world, and a new strength surges through me with every tired beat of my heart. “Hey,” I whisper down at her. “Hey, baby. Hey.”

Then I look up at Erik who is staring down with utter wonder in his eyes.

“Marry me.”

“What?” He blinks owlishly and tears his gaze away from our baby.

“Marry me,” I repeat breathlessly.

My darling daughter, Clara, sleeps soundly in the cradle next to my bed. Drugs keep the pain of delivery at bay and warmth closes around my hand as Erik runs his thumb over my knuckles and chuckles softly.

“Morning.”

“Is it morning?” I croak softly, turning my head to face him. “How long was I asleep?”

Erik glances at his watch and then back at me. “Only a few hours. The nurse will be here soon to help you with breastfeeding but for now, our daughter sleeps as soundly as you.”

Our daughter.

It’s surreal to hear those words, and even more surreal to look beside my bed and see a small bundle of baby sleeping.

“Is it weird that I can’t wrap my head around how that came out of me?”

“Isn’t nature beautiful?”

“No, it’s weird.” I chuckle softly. “An entire person grew inside me and then popped out of my vagina.”

“Pretty amazing.”

“Stop.” I groan softly, a smile playing on my lips. “You’re just saying that.”

“Given everything we’ve been through, our baby is the least weird thing about this past year,” Erik replies, keeping his voice low. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head, turning my hand in his grip to lace our fingers together. “I have everything I need.”

“Please remember that when your nipples are raw from breastfeeding and you’re so tired that my own breathing makes you want to commit murder.”

“I’ll remember.” My heart swells and my smile widens. “We really did it.”

“Yes.” Erik slowly licks his lips. “Did you mean it?”

I frown softly, meeting his eyes. “Mean what?”

“When you asked me to marry you.”

Oh.

I’d briefly forgotten about that in the chaos of delivering my baby, but the memory surges through my thoughts in a rush.

“Yes, I meant it,” I say softly. “I… I’ve spent the past year, maybe my entire life, being days away from disaster. Walking on eggshells, fighting for respect and worth, and focusing on everything that isn’t me. But this?” I glance over at my sleeping baby. “This is mine. Ours. I want to be selfish. I want something for myself. I want you.”

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