Epilogue I
GABBY
Three years later…
“Alittle help, maybe?”
I’m wrestling a double stroller through the front door of a café in River North, and I swear the thing weighs more than the twins combined.
And the job isn’t made any easier by Lena banging her boots against the footrest and Nikolai choosing this exact moment to figure out how to unhook the shoulder straps.
Thankfully, the café host puts down his phone and hurries over to help.
“Thanks,” I say. “You’d think I’d have developed the upper-body strength to haul this thing around by now.”
Together, he and I hoist the stroller over the threshold and into the café.
“Alright. Where is she?”
The place is gorgeous, all blond wood, curved glass, and soft jazz. Not exactly the most kid-friendly place in the world, but that’s fine—not everywhere has to be Chuck-E-Cheese.
No sign of Angie. Stylishly late, as usual. Thankfully, the kids have calmed down a bit. I swoop down and stare at their cherubic faces.
God, they’re both gorgeous. I can’t get over it.
Nikolai’s all dark—his curls matching his eyes, those same obsidian pools as his father’s.
Lena’s more like her mommy, with thick blonde hair and gray-blue eyes hidden behind the favorite sunglasses she loves to wear, like she’s constantly hiding from the toddler paparazzi.
“Alright, kiddos,” I say, flicking my eyes from one gorgeous face to the other. “Daddy’s going to be here soon. And Uncle Johan and Grandpa Peter.”
“Daddy’s here?” Nikolai asks, his dark eyes widening with excitement.
“Almost,” I say. “So, how about this—we get a couple of chocolate croissants and sit near the window. And then—”
An excited squeal blasts through the air. I stand up and see Angie by the entrance, her fists balled up below her face, total excitement on her features.
“There she is!” She rushes over, throwing her arms around me and squeezing so hard I think my eyes might pop out of my head.
“Good to see you too, bestie,” I say, hugging her right back.
She plants a kiss on my cheek, complete with loud mwah, then hurries around to the front of the stroller. “And there they are!” She opens the straps and scoops Lena out, giving the little lady a big hug. Lena laughs so hard her sunglasses fall off. “My favorite twins in Chicago!”
“Aunt Angie!” Nikolai sticks his little arms out, eager for a hug of his own.
Angie gently sets down Lena, then turns her attention to Nikki. “And there’s my little man!” She brushes his dark curls out of his eyes and gives him a once-over. “I swear, you’re getting too handsome for your own good.”
Minutes later, we’re seated at a corner table.
The view’s perfect, giving us a great view of the spring day unfolding around us.
We order coffee and croissants and start the catching-up process.
The kids are totally happy, chomping on their croissants and people-watching.
But I can tell they’re both beyond eager for Daddy to show up.
“God, how long has it been since our last coffee date?” she asks, shaking her head. “Like, four weeks?”
“Way too long. But that’s life when you’re a CFO with two children. The days are just this insane blur. How’s marketing at Dandelion going?”
“Never a dull moment,” she says, tossing her hair a bit. “Johan and Sasha have been talking about expanding into Scandinavia and taking over North Sea oil logistics.”
“I’ve heard. God, it’s been barely a year since the UK expansion, and they’re already talking about the next move.”
“That’s how these Bratva guys work—it’s always war in one way or another.”
“But this is the kind of war I’m fine with, where the only battles are in boardrooms.”
Thankfully, I can talk about the other kind of war like it’s a faint concept.
It’s been three years since the end of the Orlov-Morozov war, and a little less than that since the beginning of the alliance between the two Bratvas.
Peter had joined our little Dandelion-AngelCorp merger, bringing everything above board.
Not since that day with Ruth has a single shot been fired. I pray every damn day that that doesn’t change.
It’s beyond nice being able to sit and catch up with Angie. But when the bell above the entry chimes, my heart skips in the same way it always does when my husband’s nearby.
Sasha walks in, tall, crisp, and almost unfairly sexy.
His coat hangs open, dark suit immaculate underneath, tie loosened enough to suggest he’s already had a morning.
Behind him, Bogdan stalks in like a half-domesticated grizzly bear.
Just like every time Sasha walks into a room, people around him just sort of stop and stare.
Bogdan does his typical scan of the room, then nods in my direction.
Sasha walks toward us, a smile on his face. “Morning, my love.” He leans down and kisses me—quick but warm, his thumb sweeping over my jawline, like I love. Then he turns to our children, who erupt into squeals at the sight of him, like they always do.
“Papa!” Lena yells, throwing open her arms for the hug she knows she’s going to get. Nikolai’s already squirming across the booth, going in for a hug of his own. He’s closer, so he gets scooped up first. Sasha plants a kiss on his forehead, then ruffles his curls with his huge hand.
“My little prince,” he says.
Lena’s next, practically leaping into her daddy’s arms. He’s strong enough to hold them both with ease. A big grin, the grin I only see when he’s with the twins, spreads across his face.
“And my little princess,” he says. “My favorite pair.”
“Hey, I’m pretty cute, too.” Angie smirks.
“I suppose so,” Sasha says with a wry smile, giving the twins one more big kiss apiece before sliding them back into the booth. He leans over and takes Angie’s hand, lifting it toward him and placing his lips gently on top. “Always a pleasure, Angela.”
“And you too, Sasha. You could always call me Angie, you know. We’ve been acquainted for a while now.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” I say. “I’ve been trying for years to get this guy to call me Gabby.”
“I prefer the dignity of the full name,” Sasha replies as he slips out of his coat and eases into the booth next to the twins.
Bogdan, as per usual, stands near the table like a sentinel. I lean over and give him a quick side hug.
“How’s it hanging?”
“It hangs, Gabby. Good to see you.”
“Uncle Bogs!” the kids shout in unison.
“Hello, little ones,” he says, reaching over and tousling their hair. “Your Uncle Bogs is on duty, so I can’t play.” To their disappointed groans, he says, “Later, later. Back at the apartment.”
“You know, Bogdan,” I say, “considering the way things are going, you might be aiming toward an early retirement.”
“Don’t say the R-word around him,” Sasha says, his arms draped over the back of the booth. “You’ll give him a heart attack.”
“I’m not even thinking about that,” Bogdan says. “Danger has a tendency of returning the moment you—”
Another chime at the entry way cuts him off. Two men enter. A hush rolls through the room.
Johan steps in first with his usual perfect, confident posture—the kind of handsome that makes people assume he’s a senator or CEO or both. Behind him, Peter. Older, sterner, still carrying a certain gravitas.
My stomach tenses. Things between us and Peter have been okay. The alliance has held, and so far, he’s stuck with the terms. He was even a guest at our wedding last year. But I still don’t quite trust him fully.
“There’s my gorgeous boss,” Angie says as she stands and throws her arms around Johan’s neck, going in for a deep kiss.
Peter shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly not quite sure what to do with himself. The twins watch him carefully. He’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy grandpa type.
“Good to see everyone,” he says.
Thankfully, Sasha steps up. “Likewise, Peter.” They shake hands, and Peter turns to me.
“It’s good to see you, especially, my daughter.”
“It’s good to see you, Peter.”
He purses his lips, like he always does. “Papa would never be unwelcome.” I open my mouth to speak, but he raises his palms. “But I will put no pressure on you, as always.”
His statement sits well with me. The tension is still there, but we’ve learned, as a weird little family, how to navigate it all.
A look between Johan and me, a nudge from Sasha under the table—all standard when there’s a little reunion like this.
It’s the delicate choreography of people determined not to burn down the peace so many have already died for.
We all slide into our seats. The kids are still staring.
“No hellos for your dedushka?” Peter asks with as warm a smile as he’s capable of. The kids look at me, and I nod. Then they wave to Peter.
“So!” Angie says. “Nice and normal and not awkward.”
“More or less,” I say. I sweep my eyes across the table. “But if you ask me, I think we’re all handling it well.”
“So,” Sasha says, “I’m assuming there is a reason this gathering was requested?”
“There is,” Johan says. “First, because it doesn’t happen often enough. I know our family is still a little awkward, but the more we meet like this, the better.”
Peter nods. “I agree, for what it’s worth. We are family. And we can work through anything together.”
“Well said,” Sasha comments, “Father-in-law.”
Peter chuckles, and so do I. It’s still hard to believe we’re all connected by the bonds of family.
Peter’s expression becomes a little sad, as if a longing hit him. I follow his eyes and see he’s looking at Lena.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s just… she looks so much like Louisa, so much.”
His words hang heavy. Peter did what he did. But in moments like that, I can see the man he’s trying to be. And I respect it.
“So!” Angie says, trying to break the tension. “The reason we called this meeting.” She glances in my direction. “Do you remember years ago when all the insanity was still going on, that we promised never to keep secrets from one another?”
“I sure do. And I’ve stuck to it.”
“You did,” Johan says. “But we’ve been lying to you all.”
“Keeping a very big secret,” Angie adds. She places her hand on her belly.
Tears form in my eyes. “No,” I say. “No way.”
Angie grins. “Way.”