“Take her to the hospital.” When my suggestion lands on deaf ears, I shout, “Now, Andrik!”
He’s not accustomed to being snapped at, but he takes it in stride. “We’re not home. We’re at an onsite cabin at Zelenolsk.” When I gasp, annoyed, he pushes out, “Zoya wouldn’t leave until she was confident I didn’t fuck this up for you.”
“This?”
I’m interrupted by a woman in pain. Zoya’s groan sounds terrifying, and it has my stomach churning like I vomit in sympathy.
“Breathe,?????.” Andrik’s voice is more controlled now, more in charge. He knows how to take care of his woman. He’s just shit fucking scared about not being able to accept her pain on her behalf. I know this because I face the same issues with Emerson.
I sigh in gratitude when Emerson proves she has supersonic hearing. “Take her to this hospital.” She twists a tablet around to face me. “It has one of the best obstetrics units in the country. They will be able to help her.”
I recite the information on the screen of the tablet we use to order stock to Andrik before telling him we will meet him at Vlotz Private. He grunts his approval of my suggestion half a second before the line goes dead.
Chapter 39
Emerson
Despite being born exactly six weeks early, Zoya and Andrik’s daughter weighs a healthy six pounds one ounce. She has a head of adorable dark-blonde locks, a slight cleft chin, and ten perfect little fingers and toes.
I swear I’ve not seen a child as adorable as her in almost a decade. Wynne was smaller at five pounds two ounces, but she had the same fight as Amaliya. They survived the odds, and I am hopeful Amaliya will be the glue that keeps the Dokovics together like Wynne was for me.
I felt like I was drowning those first few weeks of our breakup. Chaperoning my mother to medical appointments and weekly scans gave my life purpose.
As Amaliya wiggles in my arms, I can’t help but marvel at the miracle of life. Her delicate features, her tiny fingers, and the way she nestles into my embrace are all so perfect.
When I glance at Mikhail, my lungs stop accepting air. His loving glance as he watches me hold his niece speaks volumes. It is a look of pride, love, and a hint of longing.
I can’t wait to make him a father someday. The thought fills me with hope and excitement. He will be an amazing father, just as he has been an amazing spouse, uncle, and brother.
“Come, meet your niece,” I say to Mikhail when our eyes lock and hold.
As I gently hand Amaliya, swaddled in soft blankets, to a man who will protect her until his dying breath, a sense of peace washes over me. This tiny miracle is another symbol of hope and healing for Mikhail’s family. Considering how things were not that long ago, it is incredible to see the joy and unity this new life has brought.
Only months ago, Zoya would have disappeared off the face of the planet within a minute of finding out she had conceived a daughter. If she were fortunate to have conceived a son, she would have been granted a maximum of five years.
It is insane to consider how many changes Andrik has made to his family’s bigamist ways in the past six months, and it has me hopeful Mikhail will have more understanding for the reason he made the mistake he did.
As I drink in the image of my man of great strength and power swaddling a newborn, I slip my hand into Mikhail’s spare one. He squeezes my hand gently before tilting closer, the miracle of this day not lost on him either.
He only learned of Zoya’s existence last year, so he’s never held a newborn baby girl, much less one related to him by blood.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper, my praise both for Amaliya and her parents watching our interaction with eagle eyes. I am aware of the cause of their gawk, but Mikhail is clueless. That doesn’t mean he will hide what I mean to him, though.
He nods, his eyes never leaving Amaliya. “She is.” The world’s axis tilts when he lifts his eyes to mine and whispers, “And so are you.”
This is the perfect time to tell him what’s been gnawing at me for the past week, to soothe any possible troubled waters while his niece slumbers peacefully in his arms, but I can’t do it.
Amaliya and her big brother are the bridge that will keep his family connected, but a story can only be written one word at a time. Mikhail will learn the truth one day. It just won’t be during a moment that he’s meant to cherish for eternity.
As we walk toward the exit of Vlotz maternity suite, a smile tugs at my lips. The last time I walked these steps, I did so with my baby sister in a baby carrier, and my first true smile in months spread across my face.
Mikhail’s hand is warm in mine, and I can feel the slight tremor of his grip.
I’m about to ask him what’s got him so nervous, when he blurts out, “Do you want kids, Emmy?” He twists to face me, almost walking backward. “It was on our list for a long time, but it was the only thing we didn’t place a timer on.”
“Because I was a hog.” When he peers at me with crinkled brows, I laugh. “I wanted you to myself. I didn’t want to share.” He stops waggling his brows when I add, “But yeah, I think one day I’d like to have kids.” I graze my lower lip with my teeth, keeping the tension high. “You?”
“With you…” I could kill him for the delay. “Yep.” My heart pounds furiously when he says, “I’ve never had an interest with anyone else, though.”
