“No, but there were a bunch of cars. That’s when we ran into Elise. She had a gun and shot Alexei before I could call anyone.”
“And from there?”
Marianna looks uncomfortable, her lower lip wobbling. This version of her is so different from the one we know. Nearly every member of the jury is leaning forward in their seats, absolute putty in her hands.
“Take your time,” Willa says, in her sharpest suit for the occasion. It’s not every day you get to represent your sister in court.
Marianna takes a big breath and her voice is a bit shaky when she speaks. “It was awful. Maxim was tied up, really bloody and cuteverywhere. He had to get like 200 stitches after, it was horrible. Colton Tenneson was there with a knife and he was screaming at me about Maxim’s money, saying he was going to sell me—that a lot of men would pay a lot of money for the pregnant wife of Maxim Orlov.” She sniffles and wipes under her eyes before sitting up straighter, the picture of a woman who’s gone through a lot but is being really brave about it. Christ, she’s good at acting.
Her story is mostly true, and it really was very traumatic for her, but sometimes I’m surprised at how well she plays this role.
She’s brilliant.
They go back and forth like this, Marianna explaining in detail the trauma of the night. She looks pale when recounting Tenneson shooting me, and by the end of her story, I am sure the jury’s decision has already been made. Their minds are made up, I think.
“He was on the ground, but he had a gun pointed at me and he looked so. . .full of hate.” She looks off, a haunted expression crossing over her face. “I knew he was going to shoot me. So I shot him first.”
“Have you ever shot a gun before?”
“Yes, my dad used to take me target shooting sometimes. Family time.”
Willa smiles a sad, patient sort of smile, playing her own part.
“I have no further questions, your honor.”
The deliberation is short, and while we wait I wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her into my side, my palm on the side of her pregnant belly, lightly drumming the pads of my fingers on it until I feel the press of one of the baby’s feet against my hand. Our already perfect, tiny boys.
She’s ruled not guilty in the murder of Colton Tenneson and, two days later, Marianna goes into labor.
EPILOGUE
MARY
The Following Summer
I don’t knowwhat variables must come together for two people to fall in love. There’s a myriad of things that have to line up just right, a million coincidences leading people to the exact right place and moment even to have the opportunity for love to grow.
When I consider all of the ways a person can miss it—one different decision, one missed connection—love feels like nothing short of miraculous.
And yet, it happens every day.
It happened to me even, when I least expected it to. And then it happened again when I went through the horrible ordeal of birth, only to be met with the greatest surprise of my life: more love than I could imagine.
Love is still as mysterious to me as it has ever been, even now as I overflow with it.
I’ve been trying to unravel the invisible string through my whole life that led me here, to him, to this life with the two tiny babies that have just started to say “mama.”
I had to work today, just a few rounds with Leo, no violence or promise of violence, and only for a couple hours, but by the time I make it back to the penthouse, I miss my little family so much I can’t imagine being gone a moment longer. When I get inside, I find Sasha and Maxim playing with the boys in the living room. Greta sleeps on the couch, her tail lightly swishing against the cushion. As a rule, she likes to be wherever the babies are.
Sasha bounces Iliya while Maxim helps Enzo roll over on the quilt his mother made for them.
I drop my keys and bag on the counter and my husband turns to me with a smile lighting his face. The wounds from Tenneson have healed into thin white scars that disappear into his short beard. As expected, just as handsome as he’s ever been.
“Is that your mama?” Sasha asks Iliya, already bringing the smiling baby toward me. I will never get over the way his grin takes up his whole, chubby face and how he offers them so easily to anyone who will smile at him, but especially to me. Enzo makes us work harder for them, but Maxim can always get him laughing in a way so infectious and special, I want to hear it every day.
“Hi, tiny.” I take Iliya from Sasha and kiss all over his plump cheeks until he laughs, and then give him another kiss for good measure. Maxim stands, bringing Enzo with him and I repeat the greeting with the both of them, saving an extra long one for Maxim, who looks down at me like I’m the center of the universe when I pull away.
“Any drama today?” he asks.
