“I should have known you weren’t going to give up on us. I’m sorry I did,” I tell him, pulling back enough to look into his eyes.
“You didn’t give up on us. You saved us. You just didn’t know it.”
And then he kisses me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Three months later…
KATERINA
Opening night smells like velvet curtains and nerves, but the good kind.
The kind I thought I’d never feel again.
Three months ago, I was packing suitcases and moving out of a penthouse I didn’t want to leave, preparing to leave the manI loved. Now I’m in the wings of the newly renovated Seattle Performing Arts Theater, as the principal dancers warm up around me.
My home.
The stage manager taps my shoulder.
“Five minutes, Katerina.”
I nod and take one slow breath before peeking past the wing curtain.
And then I freeze.
The front row… the entire front row, is filled.
Not with donors or critics, or even Popovich security.
But with the Hawkeyes family that Luka and Scottie brought me into.
Every single one of them.
Hunter, JP, Olsen, Trey, Hunter, Aleksi, and yes… even Luka, sitting like he owns the place, arms crossed, smirk already loaded. The amazing woman who put up with our boys all beside them, dressed in glittering evening outfits, waving like they’re trying not to scream. Someone is holding popcorn. I can see a few of them snuck in flasks, and they all look so excited to be here to watch me. But not more excited than I am to see them.
And then there’s Scottie.
My husband.
He sits in the center seat as if it was carved for him, a bouquet of tulips—yellow, my favorite—resting against his knee. He’s wearing a suit that should be illegal, his shoulders filling it out in a way that makes my pulse flutter. His hair is neat…ish. Enough to make him look like a man who tried, then gave up, then decided I’d love him anyway.
He’s scanning the stage, looking for me.
And when he finds me, when our eyes lock—He smiles.
A slow, soft, completely devastating smile that reaches every inch of him. The kind of smile a man wears when he shows upon purpose. When he wants the whole world to know who he belongs to. He belongs to me and I belong to him.
My throat goes tight.
Behind him, Hillary fans herself with the program as Arnold leans forward in his seat, already tearing up, probably before the opening number even starts. My chosen family, my real family, filling the theater like it’s their arena.
Arny and Hillary leave in two weeks to start his trial therapy, but they didn’t want to pass up being here, and I know the sacrifices they made to be sitting in those seats.
My grandmother fills her usual luxury box with her bodyguards. She’s made Seattle more than just a stopover. She’s now living part of the year here in Seattle to be close to Luka and me. She wants to be a part of our life, and I’m grateful for that.
We meet once a week with her when Luka is in town, and we drag Scottie to it when we can, though he’s having a hard time getting a flavor for my grandmother's taste in tea. It’s alright, he tries, like he always does, and my grandmother is starting to have a special blend brewed just for him. A little something fruitier and easier on his sensitive palate. She rolls her eyes whenever he adds more than one sugar cube and practically scoffs out loud when he adds milk, but ultimately she finds Scottie’s taste in tea highly amusing, though she won’t admit it.
