Page 80 of Tattooed Heart

I press a hand to my stomach, trying to imagine another life growing there. Another baby. Another child with Dimitri's eyes and my stubborn streak, or my nose and his determination.

“I should probably take a test,” I say weakly.

“I may have picked one up yesterday,” Talia says, smiling from ear to ear. “Just in case. It's upstairs in my bathroom.”

The next twenty minutes feel like 20 hours. The test. The waiting. The deep breathing while Talia paces in front of me. And then...two pink lines.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, staring at the plastic stick in my trembling hands. “Oh my God, Talia.”

“I knew it!” She exclaims, throwing her arms around me, careful not to squeeze too tight. “You're having another baby!”

The news is overwhelming, thrilling, yet terrifying. We’ll have another child to love, worry about, and raise in this complicated world we chose. But as the initial shock fades, excitement begins to bloom in my chest.

“I have to tell Dimitri,” I state, imagining his reaction. Will he be surprised? Happy? Worried about having two babies so close in age?

“You don't have to tell him right this second,” Talia says gently. “Take some time to process it yourself first.”

But I shake my head. Dimitri and I promised each other complete honesty after everything we’ve been through. No secrets, no matter how well-intentioned.

“No, I want to tell him. Today. Here, with everyone celebrating.” I look out the window at the party, which is still in full swing below. “It feels right.”

We return to the garden, and I feel like I’m walking on clouds. Everything looks different now, brighter, more vivid, and full of possibilities I didn’t consider an hour ago.

Dimitri is exactly where I left him, with Mikhail and Angelina nearby. Our son is awake and content in his father’s arms. At the same time, Angelina convinced her “Uncle Dima” to wearone of her flower crowns. The sight of my intimidating husband with a ring of pink roses on his head, completely unbothered by the feminine accessory, makes me fall in love with him all over again.

“There you are,” he purrs as I approach. “Angelina was just telling me about her plans to teach Mikhail to dance.”

“First he has to learn to walk,” the three-year-old says seriously. “Then dancing. Then we can be partners for the princess ball.”

“Of course,” Dimitri agrees solemnly.

I sit down beside him, my heart racing with the secret I carry. How do you tell your husband you’re pregnant? Especially when your first baby is still so young?

“Dimitri,” I start, then falter. The words feel too big for my mouth.

He immediately focuses on me, those perceptive eyes taking in every detail of my expression. “What is it? Are you feeling alright?”

“I'm fine. Better than fine, actually.” I take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

Angelina chooses this moment to lose interest in our conversation and skip off to find her parents. Mikhail gurgles softly in Dimitri’s arms as if sensing the moment's importance.

“Malyshka, you're making me nervous,” Dimitri says quietly. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. At least, I don't think anything's wrong. I hope nothing's wrong.” I’m rambling. I force myself to stop and meet his eyes. “Dimitri, I'm pregnant.

He goes completely still. Not just quiet, but still. Like time has frozen around him. His dark eyes search my face as if looking for signs that I’m joking, or he misheard me.

“Pregnant,” he repeats slowly. “Again.”

“Again,” I confirm, my voice low.

I watch as the news sinks in. I see the moment it truly hits him. His free hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek with infinite tenderness.

“Are you happy about this?”

The question is so purely him, not assuming my feelings, but asking, making sure I’m okay with whatever comes next.

“Yes,” I reply, and saying it out loud makes it even more real. “Yes, I'm happy. Are you?”

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