He smiles. “Here isn’t our home.”
As the afternoon stretches on,we leave Alemont City behind, city thinning into nothing but sky and land. It’s just the two of us in the car, plus a bunch of guards following us in another. We haven’t stopped yet, but I have a feeling I know where he’s taking me.
The salty, humid air hums against my skin through the open window, like an old friend who hasn’t forgotten me. The ocean comes into view on my right, churning and endless, my soul flickering in recognition. I close my eyes, breathing it in, a flood of happy memories from when my mother was alive hitting me. This scent…I never realized just how much I missed it.
Opening my eyes again, I turn to look at my husband in the driver’s seat, his gaze already on me, on the emotion I’m undoubtedly displaying on my face. He would stare and stare, I realize, if he didn’t have to continue driving. I would gladly let him. He knew exactly what bringing me here would mean to me.
And when he pulls out in front of a white beach house, I cock my head, smiling.
“You did not…” I say.
He throws me a knowing look, getting out of the car and rounding it to open the door for me. I take his hand and step onto the front walk that winds to the property. It’s windy and a little cold, but I’m too enamored by the view to feel any kind of discomfort: the sky, clear of any clouds, the horizon meshing with the endless mass of water, and my husband, who stands with his back to the ocean, handsome and tall like a god who always watches over me. It looks like a postcard, this image, from a home that’s been waiting for me.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Mikhail murmurs, wrapping me in his arms. “You know what that does to me.”
I laugh, because my tears aren’t violent or sad—right now, there’s only gratitude in my heart.
“Want to go inside?” he asks.
I nod, and he leads us to the front door, unlocking it with a brand new set of keys. Then, he steps aside.
I enter first, slowly, swirling as I walk to take it all in. The decor is light, breezy, in shades of sandy neutrals and whitewashed tones, the furniture heavy with a timeless cottagecharm. There’s nothing flashy and outrageous about it, but it screams quiet luxury, cozy and welcoming. There’s so much light…so much air.
My fingers brush the hard walls and the soft upholstery, my body buzzing with enthusiasm.
“Five rooms, excluding the living room. A large study where we can put your piano. 400 feet of private beach. And a 210-degree view so you can watch the sunset and the sunrise from the same deck,” my husband says.
“Bring my…piano?” I ask. Does that mean…he wants us to live here permanently?
He plops down in a fluffy armchair, pulling me into his lap, my legs straightening over the armrest. Behind him, a large window offers an expansive view of the ocean. The thought of being able to wake up to this every morning makes my heart skip a beat.
Running a hand through my hair, he says, “I know how much you missed this and what a big part it has played in your life. I wanted you to have that again. If you like it, we’ll stay.”
“What about your work? I thought you’d said yes to Wolfgang about being hissovietnik.”
“It’s only two hours from Alemont City, so I can easily go back and forth when I’m needed. You don’t need to worry about that. But if you’d rather just use this place as a vacation spot, we can do that too. Just tell me what you want. It’s ours either way.”
Ours. I like the sound of that.
I look around, breathing in the fresh air, imagining what it’ll look like once we make it our home.
Me, playing the piano with the windows open, curtains flapping in the breeze and the sun skittering through. Him, sun-kissed and playful as we go swimming in the morning before he takes me on every surface. Us, living here together, unbothered. Happy. I find myself touching my belly without thinking.
“What about Wolf and Victoria? When would I see them again?” I ask, realizing I probably won’t be seeing my friend as much if we’re here.
“They’re moving out of the estate as well. Wolf says the house holds too many bad memories and wants Victoria as far away from our parents as possible.”
I nod, the decision settled. I don’t want Mikhail forced to live near his parents either when they return from Moscow. The things he told me about them weren’t pretty.
“Five rooms…” I muse, looking around the space. “Yes, that will be enough. One for us…one for guests…then one for the baby.” I look up, my breath halting as I search for a reaction in his eyes.
We haven’t been using any sort of protection since our first night together. I found out I was pregnant only this morning and haven’t had the time to process it. Do I even want a baby? I have never even considered it, but now, the idea of starting a family together sounds dreamy.
A wide smile stares back at me as he leans his head against the backrest, looking serene.
“You don’t seem surprised,” I say, biting my lower lip.
He takes my hand and kisses my palm. “You were late. Again. And I’ve been hoping?—”
