Epilogue
In which there is family first, always.
Alexsey…
By the time Liria and I have managed to clean ourselves up and put on clothes, everyone is already gathered around the fifteen-foot dining table that Mother imported from St. Petersburg a couple years ago.
The broker claimed it was owned by Tsar Nicholas II.
Any Russian artifact older than a hundred years is always claimed to be passed down from one Tsar or another.
The table is beautiful, a long, shining expanse of carved walnut, crowded with all kinds of dishes.
There are my Russian favorites like stroganoff and pelmeni’s, as well as a huge platter of sushi, an enormous seafood pasta dish, several salads, chicken stir fry and dozens of raw oysters, although I suspect they're primarily for Father.
"I didn't know what you'd be hungry for," Mother says, guiding us to the table. "So, I got a little of everything."
"That you did," Liria says, staring wide-eyed at the banquet.
Dmitri is bouncing baby Lev, who is screaming with delight and grabbing at his nose while Ava takes a moment to put together plates for them.
Violet's two sisters are huddled together, whispering and giggling as they stare at the guards making the rounds in the house.
Violet is on Roman's lap, even though Mother raised a pointed eyebrow and he's feeding her a piece of sushi with deftly handled chopsticks.
I grin when Liria makes a small, pained sound as she sits down. Leaning close, I whisper, "Oh baby, I'm sorry. Maybe I was rougher than I should've been."
Her pretty face is flaming and she glares at me. "Don't pretend you feel bad about it," she hisses. "You are radiating smug right now like a toxic cloud." Still, she lets me kiss her, and then I make her a plate.
"I remembered the Byrek," Mother says happily, handing over another serving dish piled high with flaky pastries.
"That's so thoughtful of you," Liria says. "This is one of the few authentic Albanian dishes that I know and love."
"I'm glad it brings back good memories for you," Mother says. "I know your heritage must feel emotionally complex right now, but hopefully you'll have more room to enjoy it. I know it became more important to Maksim and me when we had the boys."
The doorbell rings and more people join the table; Aunt Tania and Uncle Yuri, who leans over to slap me on the back in the universal, unspoken gesture of, “You did well.” Aunt Tania kisses Liria's cheek and holds her hands, asking how she's feeling and if there's any morning sickness yet.
Nikandr and even Andrey are here. Andrey is still in one of his three-piece suits that he wears to court, I suspect he sleeps in it. Hell, we've discussed if he's had it grafted to his skin to save time. Their little sister Dasha has settled in between the twins and they're sharing gossip.
It's the Golden Hour, the perfect period of light before the sunset, stretching over the brownstone and throwing a last radiant glow over all the faces at the table, laughing and talking. For once, we are allowed to let our guard down and just be.
After a moment, I stand up, holding my glass of vodka. "I would like to propose a toast." I smile at the table full of the people I love, handing Liria a glass of sparkling water. "First, to family."
"To family," everyone echoes and takes a quick sip.
"Second, to my bride." Liria is looking up at me, her cheeks flushed pink, a shy smile on her face. "It is quite clear that I don't deserve you," I say.
"That's true," Violet says somewhat loudly from the other end of the table, I choose to ignore her.
"I am so fortunate that you are mine, that we are starting our family. I am grateful for forgiveness and for starting again."
"Za nas, hear, hear," everyone says quietly, taking another sip.
"And third," I say, raising my glass for a final time. "May the surgeon's hands be deft and quick, and may this new neural implant work, because I can't imagine anything better than finally being able to flip off Roman and Dmitri again."
"Yes!" The family shouts, taking the final gulp of vodka or draining their glass of wine.
"You are going to do it, then?" Father asks, leaning over with a smile. He grips my shoulder and I'm shocked to see the warmth in his eyes, always an icy blue but tonight, there's a bit of a thaw in his gaze.
"Yes, Father."
"I am glad," he says, swallowing his unseemly emotion before continuing. "I have been so proud of your work in recovering and I refuse to believe that your art is gone. It may just take a different form now."
Liria looks at me meaningfully and I shrug. "I might've tried out a few things, a different style."
Mother lights up. "Really? Can you show us? How about an exhibition?"
I put up my hand, laughing. "Let's wait for a while, can we?
It's not my biggest priority right now." I put my arm around Liria.
Her eyes are glittering silver in the light of the setting sun with a sheen of tears.
"You," I say, my hand sliding gently down to touch her stomach.
"Our family. You will always be my first priority. I love you."
There's a scatter of "awww's" around the table and some muted applause as she leans closer.
"To forgiveness," she whispers. "Thank you for forgiving me for the sins of my family."
"They were never yours to carry," I say. "I'm just sorry it took me this long to realize it." We kiss until the is it good-natured taunting gets annoying, and I reach over to slap Roman on the back of the head.
"What the hell, brother?" he says, rubbing his head. "I was your back up today, remember? This is how you treat the man who flash-banged the shit out of your entire loft?"
"Yeah, about that, I say. "I think it's time for Liria and I to look for a new place together."
"Oh, that's such a good idea," Ava says happily leaning closer, as does Violet.
"There's a really beautiful house that just went up for sale on our street," Violet volunteers. "Then we could be neighbors."
Ava frowns slightly. "Yeah, but there's an amazing series of penthouses that the Morozov Real Estate division just opened up. Liria and Alexsey could have one with an enormous garden and trees…"
"What do you think?" I murmur to Liria.
She rests her head against my shoulder. "It might take a while," she says, "for the Morozov family deliberation to slow down and then, they might allow for the slight possibility of letting us choose. But for now, it's nice to listen to a family who loves each other so much."
"Oh, you're going to be sorry," I warn. "They're nosy as fuck, they never stop offering opinions, and there will never be a quiet moment."
"That doesn't sound so bad," she says, wrapping her arm around my neck and kissing me.
Uncle Yuri stands with another full shot glass of vodka. "To family first!" he says, and everyone laughs, raising their glasses high.
"Always!"