Then the rice starts flying. It comes from every direction at once, little white grains pelting us from friends and family and people I don't even recognize yet, and I'm laughing so hard I can barely see where I'm going. Fyodor pulls me down the steps toward the waiting car, shielding my face with his free hand while rice bounces off his shoulders and gets caught in my veil and sticks to every inch of my dress.
"Run," he says, grinning wildly. I've never seen him like this before, so free and happy. "They're not going to stop until we're gone."
We make it to the car and tumble into the back seat together, breathless and covered in rice and laughing like children, and as the driver pulls away from the cathedral, I look through therear window at everyone still waving and cheering behind us. Sasha is jumping up and down next to Inessa, who's holding her swollen belly with one hand and dabbing at her eyes with the other, and Yuri's laughing at something Lazar said, his arm around his wife.
They're my family now—all of them.
Fyodor brushes rice out of my hair with gentle fingers as he picks out grain after grain.
"You have it everywhere," he says with a soft laugh.
"So do you." I pick a grain off his collar and flick it at his face. "We're going to be finding rice in our hair for weeks."
"Worth every single grain," he says as he kisses me slowly. I sink into him and let myself feel the reality of it all. I'm married to the man of my dreams, as odd as that sounds, but it's absolutely true. Fyodor is perfect in every way, though he's still human and still makes mistakes. But his heart is solid gold. He only wants the best for me and Sasha, and in the grand scheme of things, that's what really matters.
The reception is held in the gardens of Yuri's estate, white tents strung with lights that will look magical once the sun sets, and tables covered in flowers and more food than any group of people could possibly eat. By the time our car arrives, the guests have already made their way over from the cathedral and the party's in full swing, music playing and children running between the tables and laughter rising up into the afternoon air.
I spot Lazar near the bar looking deeply uncomfortable in his formal suit, nursing a drink and talking to Lev. When he catches me looking, he raises his glass in a silent toast that feels oddlysignificant, but Fyodor's hand rides the small of my back and anchors me.
"Are you checking my brother out?" he asks with a hint of humor.
"No, just wondering why he's so serious… What are they talking about?" I ask him, nodding at the two, but Fyodor shrugs it off.
"Probably business, but he wanted to be here for the wedding." There's something in Fyodor's tone that suggests a longer story, but before I can ask about it, Sasha comes running across the lawn and crashes into both of us with enough force to nearly knock me off my heels.
"You're here! Can I have cake now?"
"After the toasts," I tell him.
"But that's forever from now."
"Maybe twenty minutes," I chide. "You can wait."
He groans like I've sentenced him to hard labor and runs off to find Mitzi, who's chasing butterflies near the rose bushes. I watch him go and feel Fyodor's arm slide around my waist.
"He's happy," Fyodor says quietly, watching his son disappear into the garden.
"We all are."
"I never thought I could have this." His arm tightens around me. "Any of it."
"Well, you do. So get used to it…" I smile at him, rising up on my tiptoes to kiss him softly, and he twirls me around as the quartet begins playing a song. We dance for a moment, still waiting forthe caterers to finish the meal, but I'm lost in his arms and time passes without consent.
When a waiter approaches with champagne, I shake my head. Fyodor doesn't know it yet, but I have a special gift for him today.
"Sparkling grape juice, please," I say, pushing the drink away. But my cheeks burn with excitement as much as nerves.
Fyodor frowns. "Since when don't you drink champagne?"
"Since now," I say sheepishly, and I take his hand and press it to my stomach.
"Are you feeling alright?" His frown deepens for a moment, confusion clouding his face, and then I watch understanding dawn. His eyes go wide. His mouth opens. He looks at my belly, then my face, then my belly again.
"Are you telling me…?"
"I'm going to give you a son or daughter in about seven and a half months. I found out last week, but I wanted to wait until today."
He doesn't say anything for a long moment. He stares at me with wonder and joy and terror all tangled together. His arms are crushing when he pulls me against his body, and I have to wriggle to remind him how strong he is and how fragile I am.
