“Aww,” Fiona gushes, looking over at me with a grin.
Even Aleksei dips his chin, which from him is practically enthusiasm.
“You look beautiful,” Emilia whisper-shouts just as Sloane passes, gripping Konstantin’s arm.
He kisses the top of her head, and the way he loves her…I hope I can be half the husband he is.
As soon as Sloane stops before me, my chest splits open. I’ve never felt this level of emotion in my goddamn life except when Lev was born. It’s as though the world narrows until it’s just the two of us standing here beneath the sky.
I take her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re beautiful. I don’t deserve you.”
She smiles up at me, her eyes warm. “You deserve more than you realize, Kirill Marinov.”
I don’t have time to argue about how wrong she is, and when her fingers tighten around mine, she moves to stand at my side.
Father Pasha clears his throat just as Milo moves toward Lev.
“We are gathered here today under the eyes of God to witness the union of this man and this woman.”
His Russian accent wraps around every word, but I only catch half of what he says. The rest drifts past me because allI can focus on is her, looking like the future I never let myself imagine.
Her eyes. Her smile. The quiet trust in the way she holds my hand.
All I want to do is kiss her.
Finally, Father Pasha turns to me. “Do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do.” The answer leaves me without hesitation.
“And do you take this man to be your husband?”
“I do.”
“Then by the power given to me by God, you may now kiss the bride.”
The words barely leave him before I pull her in, my lips capturing hers.
Right now, everything feels perfect. But even with her in my arms, I know what comes next. Tomorrow, I send her and the boys away, and I’ll hate every blyadsky second of it.
But this is my family now, and I will protect them. No matter what it takes.
SLOANE
I hate goodbyes. Even the ones that are supposed to be short. Because sometimes you don’t know how short they’ll really be.
Mist still hangs over the lawn when we step outside, the grass damp beneath my shoes while the cars idle at the end of the driveway.
Four men are already waiting, two inside the SUV that will follow us and two standing beside the one we’ll be riding in.
Kirill pulls me into his arms, one heavy hand settling at the back of my head as he presses a kiss to my forehead. His mouth lingers there, and I can feel in the way he holds me that this hurts him just as much as it hurts me.
“This will be over soon,” he says. “Then we’ll be together with our boys.”
I lift my face and kiss him, my fingers twisting into the front of his jacket. The kiss deepens almost instantly, desperate and nowhere near long enough, and when he finally pulls back, I already miss him.
Then he crouches in front of the boys, who are standing there hand in hand, waiting for us.
“You two behave.” A small smile touches his mouth as he glances between them. “And listen to Mom. Okay?”
