The Ivanov Tower daycare center is bright and airy, all soft light and clean lines, the faint scent of finger paint and crayons lingering in the air.
I sit on a cushioned bench near the play area, sipping my lukewarm tea, watching two toddlers waddle determinedly after a rubber ball.
My toddlers.
My heart still does a little flip when I think about it.
We named our boy Jack, full name Jackson Alexei Ivanov. He has his father’s stormy grey eyes and a tuft of dark hair that never wants to lie flat, no matter what I do. His smile is miniature trouble. Our daughter’s name is Mila, short for Milena Astrid Ivanova. She’s the quieter one, with wide hazel eyes that study the world. She’s delicate and fierce, thoughtful and stubborn.
They’re both perfect. Half me, half Yuri, and somehow entirely themselves.
I glance at the clock. Lunch break is ticking away, and there’s a spreadsheet on my desktop upstairs that refuses to reconcile, but I can’t bring myself to leave.
It’s dizzying how fast the past year has gone by. I swear Mila was just blinking up at me from her bassinet, and now she’s plotting how to climb over the foam turtle in the corner. Jack, of course, is egging her on with a grin.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, watching them, letting everything else fade into the background. The meetings, the project proposals, the budget projections—they can all wait. I love my job. I really do. Assistant Director of Financial Operations isn’t just a mouthful, it’s a role I’ve earned, running my team with precision and keeping Ivanov Holdings’ ledgers cleaner than most Fortune 500s.
But here, in this moment, none of it matters as much as the way Jack’s face lights up when Mila finally topples the turtle. She gives him a triumphant squeal and he claps, delighted by her happiness.
God, I love them so much it hurts.
“Figured I’d find you here.”
I turn at the sound of his voice, a smile already tugging at my lips. Yuri. He settles beside me and holds out a steaming paper cup.
“Fresh tea,” he says with a small smile.
I take it, laughing. “You’re getting alarmingly good at knowing exactly when I’m ready for a new one.”
Yuri plucks the old cup from my hand and walks it to the nearby trash bin. “One of the best parts of my life is learning a little more about you every day,” he says, coming back. Then he nods toward the kids, who are now building some kind of block tower with another little boy. “And those two over there? The other best parts.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just watches them.
And I watch him.
I love the look in his eyes. It’s unguarded in a way Yuri rarely is. Soft, reverent, full of something bigger than pride. I used to think men like him didn’t have softness like this. But now I know it was never that he didn’t have it. He just needed the right people to bring it out.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the cup.
I have something to tell him. Something big. But not yet. He’s happy. They’re happy. I want to hold onto it a little longer.
Yuri shifts beside me, clearing his throat. “So, I’ve been thinking about LA.”
I blink. “LA?”
He nods. “I’m flying out later this month to scout locations for a second Ivanov HQ—somewhere clean, discreet. Nothing too flashy. It’s time we started growing west.”
I smile. Always expanding. That’s my husband.
“Originally I was thinking of going alone,” he adds, “but then I thought maybe it’s time for a family trip. We can rent a house on the beach. Let the twins eat sand and scream at seagulls. You, me, a few days of sun. Just us.”
The thought hits me like a burst of warm sunshine. “That sounds incredible,” I say, grinning. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen the ocean?”
“Was it when you were flying over it when we first met?” he asks. “If that’s the case, I might’ve been keeping you a little occupied.” He winks and I laugh.
“I think you’re right. I was too occupied to appreciate the view. Or, I should say, I had a better view to appreciate.”
He leans in, brushing his lips over mine in a kiss that tastes like peppermint and coffee. “Then it’s settled.”
