Hours pass.
Anya doesn’t wake again.
Just before midnight, with a final breath that sounds more like a sigh, she slips away.
Katya makes a soft, animalistic sound.
I wrap my arms around her. My heart feels cleaved open.
I loved this woman. She was a mother to me when mine was gone. I’d clung to her when my parents passed away and in the early years of my marriage. She always gave me the best advice, always found time for me, and never made me feel like I was an orphan.
Aiden kneels beside us, wrapping his arms around both Katya and me.
“She’s with Ivan now,” Aiden tells Katya, who bobs her head as she weeps. “They’re together. He’ll take care of her.”
The nurse confirms the time of death. Aiden thanks her, which is a good thing because we’re both crumpled, broken.
“Do you think she knew we were here?” Katya whimpers.
“She knew you were here,” Aiden assures her gently.
We stay until they take Anya’s body away. Katya insists on following her mother. Aiden goes with her.
I sit alone in the quiet room for a moment, the ghost of lavender oil and old roses lingering in the air.
When he comes back, he kneels in front of me again, takes my hands in his.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Not great. She’s in the chapel. She wanted some time alone.”
I nod, and give out a watery laugh. “She isn’t even religious.”
“This isn’t about religion,” he murmurs. “It’s about faith.”
“There’s so much to do now, and….” Tears stream down my face. I can’t stop them.Oh, God, but this hurts. Even though we knew it was coming, the wound it struck is deep, bleeding, painful.
“You don’t have to do a thing,” he promises. “I’ll take care of everything.”
CHAPTER 36
Aiden
The house is quiet in that hollow way it is after a funeral—clean, still, like even the walls are holding their breath out of respect.
I’ve been home for an hour, tie loosened, jacket draped over the arm of the couch, staring at nothing.
I should be exhausted, but instead, I’m wired. Grief buzzes just beneath my skin, mixing with awe—because I watched Mia today. Holding Katya up. Holding herself up.
My wife is a strong woman, and she loves hard.
Katya thanked me after the funeral. “It’s just what Mama would’ve wanted.” She kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”
“Hey, I helped, too,” Cristiano complained in good humor.
“I know. Thank you.” She sniffled. “I…Mia and I couldn’t have done this on our own.”
“Oh, yes, you could have,” I assuredher. “You two together can do pretty much anything you want. But you don’t have to doeverything.”
