"She has your eyes." I'd noticed it in the hospital, the way her eyes—when she bothered to open them—were the same pale blue as her father's. "And your stubborn chin."
He laughs quietly. "God help us if she has my temper."
"Or mine."
We sit in comfortable silence, just watching her breathe. It feels like the most miraculous thing I've ever seen.
"The results came back," Kazimir says suddenly, his voice careful. "From the paternity test."
My stomach tightens. "And?" I ask, my heart beating hard. I tell myself that it won’t matter, that I want to know, but a part of me doesn’t. A part of me doesn’t want to see the truth if she isn’t Kazimir’s biologically, even though I know he’ll love her just the same.
I don’t want those monsters to be any part of my child.
Kazimir pulls out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before handing it to me. I read the results, and the relief that washes through me makes me feel faint.
99.9% probability of paternity.
She's his. Officially, legally, scientifically his.
"I never doubted," he says quietly. "Not for a second. But now it’s in black and white. She's mine. You're mine. And no one can ever question that again."
I hand the phone back, my throat tight. "What did Ilya say?" He came to the hospital to speak with Kazimir, although heavoided me, and the meeting was brief. I’m aware of what else he told Kazimir that night—that Kazimir is no longer his enforcer. That, too, brought me some relief, even though I know it means changing everything about his life. I just wish the rest of the price hadn’t been quite so high.
I’m grateful to Ilya for coming to save me. But I’ll never entirely forgive him for what he did to Kazimir.
"He said..." Kazimir pauses, choosing his words carefully. "He said that family is family. That I gave him years of loyal service, and he hasn’t forgotten that. He's setting up a trust fund for her. And he's made it clear to everyone in the organization that you and Anya are under his protection. Anyone who threatens you answers to him. The same goes for any other children we might have, of course."
I laugh, the sound watery. "More children? I just pushed a human out of my body three days ago. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Fair point." He kisses my temple. "But someday, maybe. When you're ready. If you want."
"Maybe," I agree. "Someday."
Anya stirs in her car seat, making a small sound of protest. Kazimir is on his feet immediately, carefully lifting her out and cradling her against his chest. She settles instantly, her tiny hand curling around his finger—the middle one on his right hand, since the index finger is gone.
He doesn't seem to care. All his attention is on her, on this tiny person who has completely stolen his heart.
"Hello, printsessa," he murmurs, his voice soft and full of love. "Did you have a good sleep? Are you hungry?"
As if in answer, Anya's face scrunches up, and she lets out a wail that seems impossibly loud for such a small person. "I think that's a yes," I laugh, already unbuttoning my shirt. "Bring her here."
Kazimir settles beside me, carefully transferring Anya into my arms. She latches on immediately, and the room falls quiet again except for the soft sounds of her feeding.
Kazimir watches us, his expression unreadable. Then he says, so quietly I almost miss it, "Thank you."
"For what?" I look at him curiously.
"For this. For her. For giving me a family when I didn't deserve one." His voice cracks slightly. "For loving me even when I didn't deserve that either."
I reach out with my free hand, cupping his face. "You deserve it now. You've earned it. Every day, you earn it."
He leans into my touch, his eyes closing. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret choosing me."
"I know." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone. "I know you will."
Anya finishes feeding and promptly falls back asleep, milk-drunk and content. Kazimir takes her, burping her before laying her in the bassinet we've set up in the living room. Then he returns to the couch, pulling me against him. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"We did it," I whisper. "We actually did it."
