She grins, catching my expression.
“I didn’t say it wasn’tweird.” She swats my arm. “Just that our family is all tangled and connected. The main focus is that our baby’s grandmother held me when I was tiny.” Her hand drifts to her stomach, that unconscious, protective gesture she’s been doing since she found out. “It’s like she knew, somehow that I'd be part of her family.”
I close the journal, setting it aside to pull her fully into my lap. She comes willingly, settling against me with a contented sigh.
“She would have adored you,” I tell her, my voice roughening. “She was a lot like you. Kind. Strong. She would have immediately approved.”
“You think so?”
“I know it.” I press a kiss to her temple. “She would have seen what I see.”
“What do you see?” she asks, tilting her face up to mine.
I look at her;really look at her.The soft curve of her cheek. The way her eyelashes cast shadows in the firelight. The slight upturn at the corners of her mouth when she’s waiting for me to say something that will make her blush.
“Everything,” I say simply. “I see everything I never thought I’d have.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Santo...”
“And now you’re giving me more.” My hand drifts to her stomach, flat beneath her ridiculous Christmas pajamas. “A family. A future.”
She covers my hand with hers, her fingers small and warm against mine.
“Our baby is going to be so loved,” she whispers. “So protected.”
I nod, throat tight. “Nothing will ever touch them.Nothing.”
“I know.” She smiles, soft and sure. “You’re going to be the best father, Santo.”
I don’t answer. Can’t. The weight of those words,of her certainty, presses into my chest like a stone.
The best father.
How can I be what I never had? My own father was cold, distant, brutal. A man who saw his sons as tools, not children. A man who taught me that power was the only thing worth having.
Until her.
Until Vasilisa showed me there was more.
“Thank you, Dea,” I capture her hand, bringing it to my lips. “I’ll do my best.”
She melts against me, her eyes drifting to the Christmas tree. The lights reflect in her eyes, turning them to kaleidoscopes of blue and gold.
“It’s perfect,” she whispers. “Everything. The tree. The proposal. The ring.” She flexes her fingers, watching the silver band catch the light. “I can’t believe you had it all along.”
“I can’t believe you thought you lost it,” I counter. “As if I’d ever let you lose something that important.”
She huffs a laugh against my neck. “You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” She sighs, settling deeper into my arms. “Have you heard from Lila?”
My body tenses before I can stop it. I’ve been avoiding this topic since I got Enzo’s text earlier not wanting to ruin her perfect Christmas eve. But Vasilisa notices everything.
Her eyes search mine, sharp and gentle at the same time.
She always feels it first; any shift in me, any fracture beneath the surface.
