Page 73 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
He kisses me again, then pulls back slightly and places his hand over my stomach. The soft curve that’s beginning to form is still small, but his fingers splay out like he’s already protecting something sacred.
The monitor behind us goes dim as the tech returns, smiling as she knocks lightly on the doorframe. “All good in here?”
Sergei and I glance at each other, still holding hands, still wrapped up in this new, shared world.
“All good,” I say, smiling softly.
More than good. We’re absolutely perfect.
EPILOGUE
NICOLE
Five Years Later
The late afternoon sun spills golden light across the backyard, warm and lazy as it stretches over the tops of the trees. A soft breeze rustles the leaves above us, and the scent of fresh-cut grass lingers in the air. I sink deeper into my lounge chair, resting my head against Sergei’s shoulder as the sound of our daughter’s laughter rings out over the lawn.
She tears across the grass, bubble wand aloft, a string of shimmering orbs catching the light in her wake. Her chubby legs pump as fast as they can, dark curls bouncing with every stride and a joy so pure it threatens to split me wide open.
Our daughter, Anya, is only four, but she’s already fearless and dramatic, and she knows exactly how to wrap her father around her little finger.
“She’s going to sleep hard tonight,” I murmur, smiling as she squeals after the last of her bubbles.
Sergei chuckles beside me, low and fond.
“I don’t know about that.” He sighs. “She’s got your energy.”
“And she’s got your stubbornness,” I concede. “Maybe we’ll let Grandma put her to bed tonight.”
He hums in agreement and presses a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering there a second longer than necessary. “You okay?”
I nod, a sigh slipping out as contentment settles deep in my bones. “More than okay. I’m happy.”
And I mean it. Completely, wholly, undeniably happy.
We’ve built something rare and precious with our little family. Anya is happy and healthy, and our son, Nikolai, has just turned one. Liliya is woven into their days, and Semion has stayed blessedly silent. I couldn’t ask for more.
Sergei shifts slightly and wraps his arm tighter around my shoulders, his fingers gently rubbing along my arm.
I smile, tipping my head up to look at him. “You? The great and powerfulpakhanis surprised by domestic bliss?”
He smirks. “Careful. That sounds dangerously close to teasing your husband.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, yet the warmth in his expression softens every hard edge. It reminds me of the day we got married.
It’s been three years since we stood on the Amalfi Coast, surrounded by our families, the ocean behind us and a lifetime ahead. The sun slid toward the horizon as we spoke our vows, gilding the water until it gleamed like blown glass. My dress blewin the breeze, and Sergei looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
It’s one of my favorite memories. That day marked the beginning of a new chapter, not just as husband and wife, but as partners, truly and fully. He promised me forever, and every single day since, he’s kept that promise.
“Any updates on work?” I ask gently, even though I already know the answer. He’s still thepakhan,and I’ve long since made peace with that. I never asked him to change for me. I just asked for honesty. And he gave me exactly that—every unvarnished piece of himself.
“It’s been another quiet week,” he says, his voice calm. “Deals have successfully been closed. Everyone’s staying in their lane.”
“Good.” I pause. “You know I always worry.”
He nods, brushing his knuckles along my jaw.
