Epilogue II
Anya
Having the freedom to choose my own destiny has certainly made room for many dreams coming true. Alex just turned five, and I’m celebrating my first art show after completing my New York Institute of Fine Arts degree.
“Momma, this is really nice,” little Alex says as we stand in front of one of my larger exhibition pieces.
“You like it, eh?” I ask my son.
He looks up at me, giving me a toothy, ridiculously cute grin. His hair is dark and rich, like his fathers’, but his eyes are very much mine, and he has pink cheeks and a debonair smile that reminds me of his uncle just a little. Aleks would be swooning right now.
“I love it. Why didn’t we buy it? Daddy Nico says we could.”
“We want someone else to enjoy it,” I tell my son.
“Can you make me one?” Alex replies with a soft frown.
“You want a piece like this for your room?”
“Yeah.”
I crouch so I can be at his eye level, cup my son’s round, plump face, then plant a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll make you one then, just for you,” I tell him. “And you get to pick the colors I use, too. Isn’t that cool?”
“Just so you know,” Chance says as he and his brothers find us on the other side of the art gallery. “Alex got each of us to promise we’d ask you to make some art for him. This isn’t the only piece he wants you to reproduce.”
“Oh, really?” I laugh lightly.
Alex giggles as Booker scoops him up and holds him close. “I like your art, Momma!”
“My biggest fan, right here,” I say, overflowing with love as I watch Alex shove his tiny hands into Booker’s trimmed beard.
My men flank me, and I take a moment to admire precisely how dashing they look in their matching black tuxedos
“The show is looking great,” Nico tells me. “Though most of the guests are focused on the east wing of the exhibit, but you and Alex seem to enjoy hiding out here.”
I motion around us, pointing at some other guests. “We’re not exactly hiding. Look. People.”
“You can take the girl off the mountain, but you can’t take the mountain out of the girl,” Chance chuckles, coming closer to kiss my cheek.
“Technically speaking, I’m as New York as they come,” I say.
“True, but you took to Seeley Lake faster than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Chance replies.
Zoya finds us, taking slow sips of champagne in Evgeny’s tempered company. “Anya never liked the big crowds, not even when she was little, and her mother was throwing those extravagant weekend parties. I can’t blame her. I was never a fan either.”
“Grandma,” I part from Chance so I can give her a hug. “Hello, Evgeny.”
“Good to see you again,” Evgeny tells me. “And congratulations on this event. It’s an immense success!”
“Thank you,” I reply, smiling at him.
The Asimov gene is strong in Evgeny. I recognize parts of us in his face. He has the same cheekbones as Aleks, the same nose as my father. But he has my and Zoya’s eyes. It’s amazing what bloodlines can paint across entire generations.
“And thank you for coming,” I add. “It’s an honor to have you both here.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it, darling,” Zoya replies. “I’m so proud of you. And I know your father, your mother, and your brother would say the same thing.”
“I hear you’ve sold some pieces already,” Evgeny cuts in. He already knows how painful the subject of my family is, and he is considerate enough to steer the conversation into a much brighter direction. That’s another thing about him I have come to like. Yes, Zoya did right to pick him for our seat at the Bratva council table.
“There are some pretty heavy players present tonight. I recognize some of them from business summits across the East Coast.”
“I’m honestly surprised,” I say. “I mean, I knew it was going to be a big event. The Institute’s board of trustees take care of their own, but I didn’t expect this turnout.”
Nico smiles softly. “The prospect of donating to charity does carry an appeal of its own, especially since some of these people are aware of your history.”
“Right, because tragedy is a bestseller.” I can’t help but sigh.
Zoya, however, doesn’t seem to mind. “Whatever works to help others, in my humble opinion. But I should add, we didn’t come alone.”
“You brought guests, I presume.”
“Buyers,” she says.
“Oh?” I glance past her and Evgeny, quickly analyzing the swelling crowd on the east side of the gallery. I’ve got a good view from here, and I recognize a few familiar faces. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Nico follows my gaze, while Chance and Booker take turns keeping our son busy before they go visit the dinner buffet.
“Is that…” Nico’s voice fades. “Lev Fedorov?”
“And Ivan. And Tatyana,” I gasp. “You brought the Bratva council to my art show? Seriously?”
“No, I brought guests who have expressed interest in buying your artwork,” Zoya says with a devilish smirk. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. I’m just surprised.”
“And a little impressed; admit it.” Evgeny chuckles lightly.
“Okay, you got me. Yes, I’m impressed. I never pegged the Bratva for being partial to up-and-coming artists.”
“They’re not, but they have money to burn, and your entire exhibit has been described as ‘an ode to the euphoric dance between opulence and abject poverty,’” Evgeny says. “The Institute’s marketing department is really good, I’ll give them that. They know how to draw out the city’s big spenders.”
Zoya shrugs and sips champagne. “Besides, Ivan and the crew know I would never forgive them if they didn’t show up to support you and represent the family.”
“Represent?” Chance replies, his brow furrowed.
“Of course. People should know we’re not all gun-wielding goons or nicely dressed traffickers. or whatever it is the tabloids spew about us,” Zoya says. “Sure, we’re not saints, but having an Asimov on display here as a rising artist who is already making some huge sales does clean our image up a little bit.”
“Ah, so you’re all here to protect your reputation,” I jokingly retort.
She comes closer, her gaze softening. “I’m here to enjoy every moment of your victory as though it were mine,” she says in a low voice, as if she only wants me to hear it. “You survived hell, and you came out of it stronger and happier than ever. You’re not just a survivor, you are a fighter with an artist’s heart, and that makes you so precious. You don’t even know it. What you accomplished here tonight is incredible. And I cannot describe how proud and honored I am to call myself your grandmother.”
“Zoya, stop it, you’re going to make me cry,” I mutter, blinking back tears.
As the evening progresses, we retreat to the lounge area as Zoya and Evgeny make their rounds, politely bullying others into placing bids on some of my paintings. The pieces I knew would draw attention have already been marked sold and will be shipped out tomorrow.
Zoya was right.
It is a dream come true. I worked hard, and I fought hard to be here.
“How are you feeling?” Chance asks me as we sit at one of the glass tables.
Alex is fast asleep in Booker’s arms, and the sight of them makes me melt a little.
“Tired but happy,” I tell Chance. “It’s pretty much how I feel every day, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Nico comes over with a glass of champagne. “To take off what’s left of the edge. I haven’t seen you drink anything tonight.”
“Thank you, baby,” I smile and set the glass aside.
To say I am nervous would be an understatement, but I promised myself I would tell them tonight. They’re going to catch on soon enough, anyway.
“What’s wrong?” Nico asks, his brow slightly furrowed. “The event is a resounding success. Your agent mentioned something about an art show in Paris in the spring.”
“Nothing wrong,” I reply.
“It’s your favorite champagne. You love that pink glitter stuff,” Chance says.
“I can’t drink that pink glitter stuff anymore. Not for a while, anyway,” I say.
“Why not?” Booker asks, briefly glancing down to see if Alex is still asleep.
Nico already knows. I can see it from the glint in his eyes as they widen with the realization. Chance is the second to catch on, as his gaze drops to my stomach.
“No way,” he gasps.
I’m tearing up again. There’s been so much joy in my life lately, it’s hard to process sometimes.
“What?” Booker asks.
“Alex is about to get a baby brother or sister,” Nico laughs and rushes over to hug me.
We kiss, and for a sweet moment, the rest of the world disappears once more.
“Holy smokes,” Booker manages. “We’re going to be dads again.”
“This is wonderful news,” Chance tells me. “Assuming you feel ready for what comes next?”
“Were we ready the first time around?” I ask and laugh lightly.
“No, but we still knocked it out of the park,” Nico quips. “I mean, Alex is turning out alright, isn’t he?”
“And then some. But we’re presented with a challenge,” I say.
“What’s that?” he asks.
And now, my men’s eyes are on me again, their souls bursting with anticipation.
I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the ultrasound screen.
“We’re having twins,” I reply.
“Shut the front door!” Nico laughs. His eyes flood with tears of happiness.
And it is all I could hope for, all I could dream of. To witness the realization, the joy, and excitement unraveling as my husbands understand that our family is about to get even bigger, even weirder, and even more beautiful.
This right here…
It’s the best kind of history repeating itself.
I hope you loved Mountain Men’s Curvy Obsession.