Chapter 24Jenny
CHAPTER 24
JENNY
T he warm glow of Christmas lights bathes our living room in a soft, festive ambiance. The scent of roasting turkey and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the fresh pine aroma of our decorated tree. I stand in the kitchen doorway, watching Ivan as he meticulously bastes the turkey, his strong hands moving with surprising gentleness. He’s still a little stiff, healing from his cracked ribs, but he’s moving with confidence in the kitchen.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I ask, fidgeting with the hem of my red sweater dress.
He glances up with a small smile. “I’ve got this under control, solnishko . Why don’t you set the table?”
I nod, grateful for a task to occupy my nervous energy. I arrange the fine China and polish the silverware, finishing just as the doorbell chimes, sending a jolt through me. “They’re here,” I call out to Ivan, smoothing my dress one last time before heading to the door.
I open it to reveal my parents, both bundled up against the Atlanta chill. Mom’s arms are laden with gift bags, while Dad juggles a casserole dish.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” says Mom, her eyes crinkling with joy as she pulls me into a one-armed hug. I reciprocate before turning to my father.
“Let me take that, Dad,” I say, reaching for the casserole. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
As they shed their coats, I catch the moment their gazes land on Ivan, who’s emerged from the kitchen. He cuts an impressive figure in his crisp white shirt and dark slacks, a festive red tie adding a touch of holiday cheer.
“Mom, Dad, this is Ivan,” I introduce, my voice faltering slightly with nerves. “Ivan, these are my parents, Mabel and Jacob Graham.”
Ivan steps forward, his smile warm and charming. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both. Jenny’s told me so much about you.”
Dad shakes Ivan’s hand firmly. “Likewise, son. We’ve been looking forward to meeting the man who’s made our Jenny so happy.”
Mom, never one for formalities, pulls Ivan into a hug. “Oh, you’re even more handsome than Jenny described, and something smells absolutely divine.”
He chuckles. “That would be the turkey. I hope you’re hungry.”
We move to the living room, and I watch with a mixture of relief and amusement as my parents settle in. Dad immediately gravitates toward Ivan’s impressive book collection, while Mom fusses over the Christmas decorations.
“This tree is gorgeous, Jenny.” She admires the twinkling lights and ornaments. “Did you decorate it yourself?”
I nod. “Yes.” I remember the day I found everything in his closet and sent Daniil out for the fake tree.
She nods. “He can handle the cooking, and you can do the decorating. It’s a perfect match.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. If they knew the full extent of who Ivan really is, they might not be so approving, but for tonight, ignorance is bliss.
The timer in the kitchen dings, and Ivan excuses himself to tend to the turkey. I follow, ostensibly to help, but really to steal a moment alone with him. “They seem to like you,” I murmur, leaning against the counter as he carefully transfers the golden-brown bird to a serving platter.
He looks up at me, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Did you expect otherwise?”
I shrug. “I just... I know this isn’t your usual scene. Playing happy families, I mean.”
His expression softens. He sets down the carving knife and pulls me close, encircling my waist. “This is exactly where I want to be. With you. With your family. Building our family.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my heart swell. I stretch up on my toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too, solnishko , but we should feed your parents before they start to wonder what we’re up to in here.”
Dinner is a lively affair. The food is delicious, and the conversation flows easily. My parents share stories from their youth, and Ivan charms them with tales of his travels. I watch, my heart full, as the most important people in my life bond over shared laughter and good food.
As we finish our meal, Dad leans back in his chair, patting his stomach contentedly. “Ivan, my boy, that was a feast fit for kings. Where did you learn to cook like that?”
A shadow flickers across Ivan’s face, so brief I almost miss it. “My…adoptive mother taught me,” he says, his voice soft with memory. “She believed good food was the foundation of a happy home.”
Mom reaches out, patting Ivan’s hand. “She sounds like a wise woman, and she clearly taught you well.”
The moment passes, and soon, we’re clearing the table. As I load the dishwasher, I overhear snippets of conversation from the living room. My parents’ voices are warm with approval, and Ivan’s deep laugh rumbles in response. The sweet normality of it all is almost overwhelming.
Later, when we say our goodbyes, Mom pulls me into a tight hug. “He’s wonderful, Jenny,” she whispers. “I’m so happy for you.”
Dad’s hug is equally fierce. “You’ve done well, kiddo. He’s a good man.”
As the door closes behind my parents, Ivan turns to me, his eyes glowing with an emotion I can’t quite name. “Come with me,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the Christmas tree.
The lights twinkle merrily, casting a soft glow over Ivan’s features. He looks younger somehow, the hard edges of the Bratva leader softened by the festive atmosphere. “I have something for you,” he says.
He pulls out a small velvet box, and I open it, revealing a delicate silver bracelet. The intricate design matches the locket he gave me before—the one that belonged to his mother. My fingers tremble as I touch the cool metal. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, overcome with emotion.
Ivan gently clasps it around my wrist, his touch sending shivers down my spine. “Now you have a matching set,” he says softly. “With matching chips,” he adds with a wink.
I look up at him, blinking back tears. I haven’t stopped wearing the locket since that night I made the superficial choice to go with a ruby necklace for the Christmas party dress. If I’d had the tracking device, he would have found me much faster, and there’s something reassuring about wearing it now, especially with being pregnant. Having a backup makes me feel even more secure. “I have something for you too.”
I hurry to retrieve the gifts I’ve hidden, my heart leaping with anticipation. When I return, I hand Ivan the first carefully wrapped package. “Open it.”
He unwraps it slowly, revealing the white-gold watch. His eyes widen as he reads the engraving: “You’re unforgettable.”
For a moment, I’m filled with regret that it doesn’t better express my emotions for him, but I chose it before I was certain about everything. Perhaps I’ll slip it away sometime and add to the engraving.
“Jenny...” He traces his finger over the words, clearly moved. “I love it.”
“There’s more,” I say, handing him the small, leather-bound album.
Ivan opens it, his expression changing from curiosity to shock. The pages are filled with photographs of a young Ivan, sometimes brooding or sad, and sometimes, smiling and carefree. In each one, he wears the small locket he later gave to me. “How did you...?” he trails off, his fingers tracing the images.
“Marcus helped me gather the information. I wanted you to have a piece of your past.”
He flips through the pages, his usual stoic demeanor softening even more. The room fills with a nostalgic air as he shares some of the memories the images clearly bring to the forefront.
He pauses to stare at the picture of him at two, sitting on the stairs while holding the locket. The picture on the opposite page is one Marcus’s contact tracked down of a younger Eugenie Markov, about fifteen, in a school uniform. There appear to be no surviving pictures of him with his mother, which saddens me.
“I’ve never seen her picture before.” He traces his finger over the contours of her face, and their resemblance is striking. “I wish I remembered her.” There’s a wistful note to his voice.
I put my arm through his and give him a side hug. “I can see why the locket means so much to you, and I’m glad you have some kind of connection with her.”
His eyes mist for a moment, but then he grins, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “It didn’t have a tracking device back then,” he teases, but I can still see the depth of emotion in his eyes.
I laugh softly, relieved by his reaction. “No, just a lot of love and care.”
Ivan closes the album and pulls me close, enveloping me in his strong arms. “Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair. “This means more than I can express in any language.”
We stand there for a moment, basking in the warmth of our embrace. Then he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense.
“I’m looking forward to being a father,” he says gently. “To having our family and being part of a family.”
My heart soars at his words. “I feel the same way,” I say after coughing to clear the lump in my throat. “We’re going to be amazing parents.”
Ivan’s lips curve into a rare, genuine smile. He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate. It’s a perfect moment, and the perfect way to end our first Christmas Eve together.