Page 74 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
“I know. But you don’t have to. Not now. I’ve got good people in place. And more importantly, I’ve got something worth staying alive for.”
A lump rises in my throat, and I glance back out to where Anya has collapsed in the grass, laughing up at the sky. The sun catches her face, her dimples, the little gap between her front teeth.
She’s pure magic.
“I never thought I’d be this person,” I admit quietly. “I used to think I had to choose between a life I loved and being a mother.”
“You don’t have to choose,” he says simply. “You’re both. You’re incredible at both.”
After Anya was born, I stayed home, soaking up every second of motherhood. But over time, I found myself missing the work I loved, helping people, offering care, and making a difference. Sergei helped me launch a home-care service that lets me do both.
I visit patients in their homes now, mostly elderly or recovering patients who need a nurse and a warm presence. It’s fulfilling, and it fits into the life we’ve built. Anya stays with her grandmother when I’m out. Liliya’s health has completely rebounded, and she’s become the most doting, protectivebabushkain the world.
Sergei and I host Sunday dinners now. Every week, no matter what. His family, my family, Mia, and her new boyfriend, who works in finance and blushes every time she flirts with him in front of us. We cook together, laugh, drink wine, and sit around the long table in our dining room. The house hums with warmth and joy.
“You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have,” I whisper. “Not just the house or the business or even Anya and Nikolai. You gave me the freedom to be myself. The safety to have a life I never could have even dreamed of.”
Sergei turns toward me, cupping my cheek with one large, warm hand. “You deserve it all, Nicole. And you’ve worked hard to achieve it. I just got lucky enough to be the man who gets to see it every day.”
My heart swells, and I lean into his touch. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He smiles. “More every day.”
Anya runs back over to us and climbs into my lap, still giggling as she wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Mama! I made a bubble this big!” She spreads her arms wide, her eyes huge with excitement.
“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” I say, kissing her head.
“Papa, did you see?”
“I saw, my dove,” Sergei says, lifting her from my lap and cradling her against his chest. “I think that was a world record.”
Anya beams, always pleased to be the center of Sergei’s attention. Sergei looks at me over her head, something soft and wonderstruck in his gaze.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve any of this,” he murmurs.
I rest my hand over his. “Whatever it was, I’m glad you did.”
We sit there for a while longer, the three of us tangled together under the fading sun, our world small and perfect. But the peace doesn’t last very long. We hear the back door open, and footsteps on the patio.
“The rest of the family will be here soon,” Liliya calls out, Nikolai cooing in her arms. “You’d all better get washed up for dinner.”
Sergei turns to her, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Of course, Mom,” he responds, ever the dutiful son. “We’ll just go get ready and be right down.”
She narrows her eyes, immediately suspicious. “You better be. I didn’t spend two hours making dinner for nothing.”
“Promise,” he says innocently.
Anya jumps off our laps and runs to Liliya. “I don’t need to get ready, Grandma. I’m ready for dinner!” She kisses Nikolai’s little feet. “Come on, Niki, let’s go getyouready for dinner!”
“We’d better wash those hands, just to be safe,” Liliya says, guiding Anya inside.
We watch the three disappear inside, then Sergei turns to me and lowers his voice.
“Does my wife have a spare second to accompany me to our bedroom? I have some unfinished business from last night.”
I flush instantly, smacking his chest lightly. “Sergei.”
