Page 10 of P.S. I'm With You
“Dominik,” I breathe out in shock. His weathered face crinkles as he gives me his signature smile.
“It’s been fifty-five years since I’ve heard that name. It’s been Kasapin, and when I left, it was Alek.” He steps forward and I take a step back.
“Left? When did you leave?”
“About twenty years ago,” he admits, and I feel my heart break all over again.
“Twenty years?” I repeat weakly. “Twenty years and you never thought to come find me? How’s that for true love.” I scoff while shoving past him.
“Nika! Wait!” he calls, and I hear the clicking of his cane as he rushes to me. “I couldn’t come here. I was in prison.”
“Prison,” I repeat, not believing him.
“Yes! Prison! Did you forget what we were trading in over there? I got out because I got caught. I took a deal that put away some really bad people, but the one person they wanted to put away, I couldn’t help them with. So,Iwent to prison. I got out three years ago and have been making my way here. You know, it’s not easy for an old criminal to get into different countries.”
“Nice try. Kasapin doesn’t get caught, and definitely isn’t a rat.”
“I’m not you, Nika!” he barks out. “I did get caught. I had a heart attack and was in a weakened state. They were able to figure things out. And absolutely, I ratted each of those fuckers out to lessen my sentence. Why? Because I knew, with every year I had taken off, it gave me a larger sliver of a chance to get to see you again one day. There was only one name I couldn’t give—the one who would’ve had me walking free.”
“Who?” I ask softly, and I shudder as he tucks a strand of fallen hair behind my ear.
“Nika ‘Kasapin’ Galic.”
“You spent fifteen years in prison to spare me? A woman you haven’t seen in a lifetime.”
“No,” he states firmly. “I spent seventeen years in prison, and ratted out the entire criminal enterprise over there to spare the woman I’ve loved since I was a child from having to lose her freedom. And I would do it over again, just as I sent you on that train and returned to the throne, taking the title as Kasapin and removing any who questioned it.”
“Why?” It’s a weak question, and I hate that I feel my eyes welling with unshed tears.
“Because.” He releases a breath. “It was the only way I could stay with you. I had to get you away. I never planned to see you again. I figured you would marry, have more kids, and put us in a box, so I did the same—I put you in a box that I would visit far too often. I’d write you letters, telling you I saw you moved to Louisiana, then here. You opening the bakery. Our Zora becoming a mama. I wrote to you constantly, and upon my death, you were to receive the box full of the letters, the few mementos I had of us and my money.”
“But you’re not dead.”
“Dominik Kovac is indeed dead. I told you, I go by Alek, see?” He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a passport. His name: Aleksandar Broz.
“That is a stupid name,” I spit, causing him to burst out laughing.
“Well, I apologize I couldn’t consult you first, but it was the only identity my friend could get me on such short notice.”
“Well, yeah! Because no one would want that name! Now, why is Dominik dead? Seems awfully dramatic. Isn’t your wife going to be upset?”
“You know...” He chuckles lightly. “She’s not nearly as upset as I thought she’d be. She seems more pissed off than anything. In fact, she may hit me.” Five decades later and he still brings a blush to my cheeks and a flutter to my belly.
“Ah, no one dumb enough to become Mrs. Kovac?” His amused smile remains firmly planted on his face.
“There was already one dumb enough and I never looked after her.” I snort at his response.
“Never, not even by accident?”
“How do you accidentally find yourself in that position?” I give him a shrug.
“You’d be surprised what I hear kids say these days. So, what now? You’re here, and I’m supposed to leap into your arms and run away?”
He laughs loudly, his blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight. “My love, I fear my days of lifting you are behind us.”
Giving him a shrug, I walk closer and wink. “It’s overrated. I’d much rather someone stand beside me than carry me. You know I was never one to be a damsel in distress.” His hand shakes as it goes to my face, his thumb running over my cheek.
“Fifty years and you still manage to take my breath away.”
