Shocked.
Over the moon and so excited.
“It’s not like we’ve slacked off in the process of how they’re made.”
I laughed, hugging her closely, feeling so blessed that I’d never take a second of her love for granted. “So, maybe we should use Maisie’s reasoning and have this wedding as soon as possible.”
She huffed a laugh as we watched her dance and celebrate with the wildness only a child could have. “What’s her reason to have the wedding as soon as possible?”
“To get a pretty dress, taste test the cake, get her hair done, and have lots of flowers there.”
“She’s my sweet princess.”
“You’re my sweet baby mama,” I teased her before kissing her again.
“Maybe. I’ll take the test tonight.” She arched one brow. “But whatever the results are, maybe we can keep this news out of Maisie’s reach for a while.”
I nodded, willing to go along with whatever she wanted.
I always would. It was the least I could do for the love she gave me.
40
NATALIE
Six weeks later…
Claire smiled as Mikhail returned to our table in the massive ballroom. He looked like he’d gotten a few more gray hairs in the last week, but I doubted it was from the stress of getting this wedding put together.
More than anything, it likely had to do with Owen cluster feeding and going through a fussy spell of not sleeping well.
He sighed as he sat, holding his hands out to his wife for her to hand over their son. No words were necessary.
Owen fussed a bit but settled with a pacifier.
“Do you need to head to the office?” Claire asked.
He shook his head. “No. Andre’s handling it.”
Aha.“More trouble from those… guys?”
Sergei smirked, paying attention to Maisie near the dessert table while he listened to us. He held my hand, possessiveand protective even when there was no threat present. I never wanted to know many details, but I was interested in and invested in my fiancé’s life.
Nope. Scratch that.
I smiled, mentally correcting myself.
As of an hour ago, when Sergei and I shared our vows in this gilded room, he was my husband.
Not my enemy, not my lover.
My man. Forever and always.
“Yeah.Thoseguys,” Mikhail confirmed wryly. “Roberto Giovanni’s good-for-nothing pieces of sh?—”
“Okay. Okay. We’re at a wedding.” Claire cleared her throat. “Children are present.”
“I don’t think Owen will understand,” Sergei said.
