“You okay?” he asks, coming up behind me.
“No,” I admit, then amend. “Yes. Both.” My hand finds his.
He turns me gently, thumb brushing away the dampness at my eye. The bandage over his shoulder peeks out from under his sweater, reminding me he’s human, breakable. “We can take what we want and leave the rest,” he says. “Start fresh.”
The movers roll past with a box labeled: STUDY—FRAGILE. Everything’s being packed up with swift efficiency.
I set my rosemary plant into an open tote, swaddle our framed ultrasound print in tissue, and tuck it beside the plant. When the last lamp is wrapped and the final box sealed, the foreman nods at us.
“We’ll meet you at the new address, Mr. Angeloff.”
“Thank you,” Vlad says, then to me, softer, “Ready?”
I look around once more. “Let’s go home.”
We leave the city, heading east on the highway to Long Island. Vlad drives. I press my forehead to the cold glass and watch the skyline shrink behind us before softening into trees, then opening up into long winter fields. He won’t give me any details, just squeezes my hand and smiles when I ask.
The gates swing open to a drive that curves up through bare oaks toward a hillside villa. Stucco the color of cream, wide stone steps, iron balconies strung with soft lighting. It sits close enough to the city that the skyline is a silver line on the horizon, but far enough that the air smells like cedar and nature instead of exhaust.
“Vladimir,” I whisper.
He parks underneath a portico. An invisible staff has already salted the stone. Candles are glowing in the windows, giving the house a pulsating warmth. When he opens my door, my heart kicks hard against my ribs.
He offers his hand. “Welcome home,kotenok.”
We climb the steps, boots crunching on snow-covered marble. Inside, the foyer opens into a sweep of gorgeous walnut floors and a wall of glass framing a long blue dusk over the water. A fire crackles in a carved stone fireplace.
“I wanted you to see it bare,” he says. “Before Dmitri installs cameras and a security system, before the movers bring our belongings. Before the real world returns, I wanted it to be just us.”
“Just us,” I echo, turning in the warm light.
Vlad steps closer, a softness in his eyes, and says quietly, “There’s one more surprise.” His hands find mine, warm and steady, his thumbs rubbing my fingers.
“Teresa Winslow,” he says, voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “My life hasn’t been the same since you walked into it, and before I realized it, you became the center of my world. You’ve loved me when I didn’t deserve it. You’ve argued with me when I did. You made me believe I could have more than blood and business; you made me believe I could have a future that mattered. And now you’re giving me,us, a child.”
His smile tilts, boyish for just a breath. “I want to be your safe haven. I want to make you tea at three in the morning. I want to read ridiculous baby-name lists with you. I want every morning and every tomorrow with you.”
A laugh hiccups out of me as he produces a small box. Inside is an oval diamond set low in platinum, two tiny emeralds tucked on either side like delicate armor.
“Marry me,” he says simply.
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. The word spills out true and whole. “Yes.”
He exhales and slides the ring onto my finger. The fit is perfect. For a second we just stare at it together as if we both need proof that the moment is real.
He kisses me, full of promise. When he lifts his head, the look on his face is so genuine and raw, I have to touch his cheek, because having that transparency pointed at me feels like holding a star with my bare hands.
“Now,” he says, mischief curling the edges of his mouth before he scoops me into his arms. “Traditions.”
“You’re not supposed to carry me over a threshold until after a ceremony,” I protest, looping my arms around his neck.
He starts up the stairs, an easy feat despite the shoulder, because of course he’s stronger than gravity when he wants to be. “My house, my thresholds, my traditions,” he murmurs. “And our rules, from now on.”
“Bossy.”
“Happy,” he counters.
The master suite overlooks the view—the river a satin ribbon below, the city visible in the distance beyond. He nudges the door with his foot and it swings open to a room already oursin a way that makes my chest ache. Cream linens. A plush rug begging bare feet.
