Chapter 64
NIKOLAI
I know it’s in here somewhere.
Digging through the drawers of my desk, I pull out piles of papers and stack them all across the top.
Nope. Not it. That either.
Shit. I know I got a passport for Elena, it’s just in one of these folders.
Maybe it’s nerves making me fly through the files so quickly? Mila and Elena are busy packing, I have my stuff ready, I just need to find this one last thing.
Well, here’s her birth certificate.
And, some pictures?
Fuck. I feel like I’ve been hit with a brick.
Katerina, still sweaty from labor, cuddling Elena as a newborn. Her smile shows the elation and absolute love that she felt for our daughter.
Another of Elena’s first bath, fresh from the hospital.
Damn. “I’m sorry, Kat. I never thought I’d ever be able to move on.” My throat tightens holding the flimsy photo.
I hate how it’s fading on the edges.
“You should see Elena. She’s a firecracker, just like you.” Clenching my jaw, I fight back the swell of emotion. “I can still catch glimpses of you, in her. That crooked grin, the cocky hip when she’s mad.”
My fist tightens on my thigh as the pain surges through my chest. “I wish you were here.” My voice cracks. “But, you’d like Mila. She killed for Elena, just like I know you would have.”
Flipping through the few glimpses of memories, I find the one of Elena dropping the rose into the ocean for Katerina’s funeral.
Elena was barely two.
There wasn’t a body to bury, so we went to the sea, Katerina’s favorite place to visit.
The red of the flower is a contrast to the deep blue of the water.
But it blurs as a tear sneaks out and falls onto the print.
Dammit.
Sniffling, I push down the grief.
I know the pain will never go away, but it doesn’t stab as sharply.
Healing always leaves a scar, but it makes the skin tougher.
I’m just glad I didn’t get so armored that I never let Mila in.
“Daddy!” Elena yells from down the hall. “I can’t reach my fairy wings!”
“I’ll be right there,” I call back.
Beneath the last snapshot, her passport sits next to a folded scrap of notebook paper.
I recognize Katerina’s flowery script as soon as I open it.
A message I forgot existed, like it’s coming from the past to remind me.
Be happy she scrawled with a small smiley face doodle.
“Thank you, Kat. I am.”