Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Igor
Snow fell against the window, just like that Christmas five years ago.
But this time everything was different. I stood in the doorway with the last bag of ornaments in my hand, looking at the huge Christmas tree already standing in the living room.
Fuck — I never imagined I'd be the man to put up a tree, much less enjoy the hell out of it.
"Dad! You bought so many things!" Stella jumped off the couch, her little face flushed with excitement.
"Of course, my little princess." I set the bag down and scooped her up, lifting her high. "This is our first real family Christmas. It has to be perfect."
"I want to help too!" she wriggled in my arms.
"Okay, you hang these." I handed her a box of colored glass balls. "Be careful. Don't drop them."
Elena came out of the kitchen, flour smudging her apron. She was in a simple sweater and jeans, hair tied back in a ponytail, cheeks pink from the oven. Seeing her made my heart skip.
She looked at the pile of decorations and gave a helpless little laugh. "Igor, are you trying to move the whole store into our living room?"
"Pretty much." I kissed her on the forehead. "Smells good. What are you making?"
"Gingerbread." She colored. "Stella said she wanted a gingerbread house."
"Then we'll make the biggest damn gingerbread house there is," I said, dead serious.
She nudged me. "Go help your daughter decorate the tree. Don't mess up my dough."
"When did I ever mess up?" I protested.
"Right now." She stood on tiptoe, pecked my lips quickly, then turned back to the kitchen. "Hands off, Igor Vorontsov. The dough isn't done."
That woman always knew exactly how to make my pulse race.
I watched Stella tiptoe to reach the higher branches. "Hold on, Stella. Let Dad do the high stuff."
For the next two hours, it was just the two of us. I handled the top ornaments; she took the lower branches. After each one, she'd step back, cock her head, then announce, "Perfect," or "Move it a bit to the left."
"Dad, this star goes on the top, right?" She held up a gold star.
"Yeah, baby." I took it. "The star's the most important. It stands for hope and light."
"Like my name?" Her sky-blue eyes flicked to Elena; she looked so much like her mother.
"Just like you." I crouched and looked at her properly. "You're Mom and Dad's star. You light up our lives."
She giggled and dove into my arms. "Dad, you're so cheesy."
"You'll get used to it." I lifted her so she could place the star on the top. "I'll get cheesier."
When the star was in place, I switched on the lights. The tree burst into color, and Stella whooped like she'd seen real magic.
"Mom! Come look!"
Elena poked her head out of the kitchen. The sight of the lit tree made her face bloom into that soft smile I knew so well. A familiar tightness settled in my chest — this was what happiness felt like.
God, five years ago, I almost tore all this apart.
"It's beautiful." Elena came and stood beside me. "You two did well."
"No doubt." I wrapped an arm around her waist. "My daughter and I make a great team."
She leaned into me, relaxed. "Proud," she said, smiling.
The fire crackled in the fireplace, throwing warm light across the room. I'd stacked wood earlier so the flames would last. The air smelled like gingerbread and hot cocoa, pine and warm wood — everything a Christmas should smell like.
After dinner, the three of us curled up on the couch for a holiday movie. Stella sat between us; Elena and I flanked her. We put on Home Alone, and she laughed until she snorted.
"That kid's so smart!" she said.
"He is." I smiled. "But if bad guys came, you wouldn't have to booby-trap the house like he did. You'd call Dad, and I'd sort it."
She nodded solemnly. "Because Dad would protect Mom and me."
"Always." I squeezed her small hand. "Dad will always protect you."
Elena's hand covered mine — warm and soft. We shared a look that said everything we didn't have to say.
When the movie ended, it was time for what Stella had been waiting for: presents. She ran to the tree in a little red dress I'd bought — velvet with white lace — and looked every bit the little princess I called her.
She grabbed a medium box and tore off the paper, squealing when she saw a doll. "It's Lily! A talking Lily!"
"You like it?"
"Love it!" She spun, hugging the doll. "Thanks, Dad!"
Seeing her grin warmed something in me.
"Here's another." I handed her one more box.
She opened it carefully. A kid's jewelry kit smiled back at her, and her eyes lit up. "Now I can make pretty things like Mom!"
"Be careful with the tools," Elena warned. "Some are sharp."
"I'll be careful!" Stella promised.
Then she lunged at a giant pink box, undoing the ribbon like it was a race. She lifted the lid and squealed at a massive teddy bear. "This bear will sleep with me every night! It's bigger than me!"
The bear was all soft brown fur and kind button eyes. Stella buried her face into its belly and then — I saw it — she blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.
"Mom, there's something in here."
My hands started to shake. I'd never been this nervous — not in a shootout, not in a negotiation. Now my chest hammered and my palms sweated.
"Let me see." Elena reached in, found a zipper on the bear's belly, and unzipped it. She pulled out a velvet box, and her mouth fell open. The room went quiet except for the fire.
"Open it, Mom!" Stella urged, bouncing with excitement.
Elena's fingers trembled as she lifted the lid and inhaled when she saw the ring.
It sat on a platinum band: a flawless, sky-blue diamond, cut perfectly and surrounded by tiny stones like stars around a moon. It caught the light and made the whole room glow.
"Igor?" Her voice shook.
My breath caught. I went down on one knee and gripped her hand. I'd stood in front of gun muzzles and run operations, but right now I felt like a kid.
Stella watched us with wide eyes.
"Elena." I held her hand and looked into her blue eyes. "Five years ago at Christmas, I hurt you with lies."
Her eyes filled.
"I made the stupidest, cruellest choices.
I almost lost you, almost lost our daughter — lost everything.
" My voice came out rough. "Every day since I've lived with pain and regret.
I went mad trying to find you, using every way I had.
I should have been there for you — through your pregnancy, at Stella's birth, watching her grow.
I missed everything because I was a coward. "
"Igor," she said, shaking her head, voice breaking. "You've done well now."
"That should have been my responsibility," I said. "And I left you to carry it alone. When I finally found you and saw how strong and beautiful you'd become, I felt proud — and I felt broken that you had to bear it alone."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I know I hurt you. I know I was a bastard. But Elena, you were my only. My salvation. My whole world. Without you, I was nothing. With you, I'm alive."
My hands trembled as I opened the box and took out the ring.
"Tonight, five years later, in front of our daughter, I want to tell you I love you, Elena Jensen. I love your kindness, your strength, your stubbornness — everything. I love you to my bones, to my soul. I would rather die than lose you."
Her tears fell like beads.
"Marry me. Let me spend the rest of my life loving you, making up for what I took. Let me be your husband. Let us be a real family. Elena, will you marry me?"
She looked at me — tearful, tender, moved — and didn't speak. My heart thudded against my throat.
"Mom!" Stella burst out. "Say yes! Say yes!"
She clapped, eyes shining.
Elena looked at our daughter, then back at me. Her tears kept falling, but the corner of her mouth curved into the gentlest smile.
She held out her left hand and, voice choked but steady, said, "Yes. I will."
My world stopped. Then everything flowed in — joy, relief, gratitude, love. My hands shook as I slid the ring onto her finger. It fit like it belonged there.
"Fuck, Elena." My voice came out raw. "You don't know what this means to me."
"I do." She cupped my face. "It matters to me too."
I stood and pulled her into a fierce hug. She hugged me back; I felt our heartbeats sync.
"I love you," I whispered in her ear. "I will always love you, Elena."
"I love you too," she said. "Always."
"I want a hug too!" Stella shoved between us.
We broke apart and looked at her. She opened her arms, face alight.
"Come here." I knelt down.
She dove into my arms and I wrapped one arm around her, the other around Elena. My whole world was in my arms.
"My queen and my princess." I kissed Stella's forehead, then Elena's lips. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Daddy!" Stella cheered.
"Merry Christmas," Elena said, smiling.
We sat under the tree, lights painting us, the fire warming the room. Snow began to fall outside, softening the world into white.
"Dad, will we have this every Christmas?" Stella asked from my lap.
"Of course." I kissed her forehead. "Every Christmas."
She tilted her head, thinking. "Next Christmas, can I have a baby brother or sister?"
Elena flushed, and I laughed out loud.
"What's wrong?" Stella asked, puzzled. "The teacher said Santa can make wishes come true."
"That one's up to your mother." I gave Elena a mischievous look.
"Igor!" she glared.
"What?" I feigned innocence. "It's our daughter's wish. We should consider it."
Elena didn't argue. Her cheeks were still pink, and her eyes were smiling.
"So is that a yes?" Stella asked, bouncing.
Elena and I exchanged a look full of hope.
"Maybe," I said. "But it'll take time."
"Okay, I'll write Santa tonight and tell him to hurry!" Stella wiggled to get down.
"It's late," Elena said. "Tomorrow. Bath, then bed, okay?"
"Okay." Stella stopped struggling. "Daddy, tell me a story before I sleep."
"One story," I said. "Then lights out."
"Deal."
I gave her a bath, put her in pajamas, and told the bedtime story like a pro.
When I described the princess and prince living happily ever after, Stella asked softly, "Dad, will you and Mom stay together forever?"
My chest tightened. "Yes, baby. Dad would never leave you or Mom."
"Good." She closed her eyes contentedly. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, my Stella." I kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams."
She fell asleep quickly, peaceful under the dim lamp. I stood by her bed a long time, feeling a wash of tenderness and guilt.
If I'd done the right thing five years ago, she wouldn't have grown up without her father. Marco had looked after them, but it should have been my responsibility. I owed them everything.
Thank God I was given a second chance. Everything started again this Christmas night. I had love, a family, and a future worth fighting for.