Epilogue I
AMALIE
Eleven months later…
The kitchen smells divine—like vanilla and butter.
“Babe, you might want to flip that one.”
“I know what I’m doing. Not my first pancake breakfast, you know.”
Roman stands at the stove in nothing but my favorite gray sweatpants, the ones that cling to his hips just so and hug his ass just right.
Our son Theodore—Theo, as we all call him—is nestled in my chest carrier, his hands gripping the straps as he watches with his big, gorgeous eyes. Sasha is seated nearby, offering cooking advice.
“Papa,” he says, pointing toward the pan. “That one is too brown.”
“It is well-done,” Roman replies over his shoulder. “And I happen to prefer them that way.”
The sight of him cooking with no shirt on is enough to make me want to feast on something other than pancakes.
I can’t resist sidling over to him and stealing a quick kiss, one he smiles into without missing a beat.
I reach past him for the bowl, stick my finger in, and pop the dripping batter into my mouth.
“You are a menace,” he says, shaking his head. “Flouting the rules of my kitchen.”
“I guess that means you’ll have to give me a spanking,” I reply with a wink.
“The way you’re looking at me now, my dear, makes me think that would not be a punishment at all.”
“One way to find out.”
He chuckles, planting one more kiss on my lips before turning his attention back to the pancakes.
I glance down at my watch, a gorgeous Jaeger-Lecoultre Roman gave me as a birthday gift, my eyes widening when I see the time.
“Shit,” I exclaim. “We’re going to be late.”
“You know,” Roman says, “when you’re the star of the show, you are never late—everyone else is early.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. Roman flips the last pancake onto the plate and hands it over.
“Eat. There is more than enough time.”
I glance down at his pants, my eyes lingering on the way they show off those gorgeous notches of his hips.
“You still have to change. Unless you’re planning on going in those.”
He winks. “You should be so lucky.”
Another kiss. And just like that, the nerves about the day ahead melt away.
Roman’s kind of magic like that.
The gallery at the Art Institute practically hums.
Ivory walls. Warm light. People talking in soft, hushed tones the way they do when art is involved. There’s nothing quite like the vibe of a crowded museum.
But there is one little detail that makes this exhibit different from all the others I’ve been to, and that’s the placard at the entrance with my name on it. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at once.
TAKING UP SPACE
Amalie Barinova
Featuring works by young artists
Mixed media installation
2026
Inside, my pieces line the walls—paintings, sculptures, art I’ve made since before I met Roman, which feels like a million years ago.
Sasha’s art hangs there too—winter landscapes from our first weeks together, animals from the zoo, buildings from downtown.
Even the sketch of Andrei that impressed me during the first interview with Roman is there.
The art from kids with autism, sensory processing difficulties, ADHD also hangs on the wall. That’s what this is about. Taking up space. Art from those who society at times makes feel like they should stay out of sight, take up less space.
Not today. Today we’re here, and without apology.
I spot Sasha, looking so grown-up in his suit, speaking with surprising confidence to a trio of guests as he explains his art.
Kyle’s here too, standing near the back with Theo strapped into his baby carrier. He looks so good with Theo, so natural, like he’s already been a dad a few times over. I’m planning on putting the pressure on him to settle down, but right now, he’s where he needs to be.
Mom even flew in from California, finally able to travel after her hip replacement. She’s all smiles, barely able to take her eyes off Theo.
A large hand settles gently on my shoulder. I smile, not needing to turn to know who it is.
“How do you like being the center of attention?” Roman moves to my side, planting a soft kiss on my cheek, one that sends a wonderful surge of calm through me.
“I’m liking it. Maybe a little too much.”
“Oh no,” Roman says with a small, sardonic smile. “Have I created a monster?”
I wink. “Only time will tell.”
A small chime sounds. My stomach clenches. I watch as guests take their last glances at the art before heading out to the courtyard.
“Are you ready?” Roman asks. “I could delay them for a bit if you need a minute or two.”
“Nope. No delays. Ready now.”
“Good. Now, go knock them dead.”
One more kiss, and I’m on my own.
I take a steeling breath before heading out to the courtyard. It’s a gorgeous late spring day, as perfect as you could hope for in Chicago. A crowd is gathered in front of the podium.
Kyle gives me a thumbs-up, and Sasha beams happily up at me. Roman nods encouragingly.
Here we go.
“Thank you,” I begin, voice steady in spite of how crazily my heart is pounding. “Thank you all for coming.” I look out at the crowd. “This exhibit exists because of the idea that children don’t need to be fixed to be seen. They need space. Resources. Encouragement. And a little love.”
I glance at Sasha and smile, who smiles right back at me. “This,” I say, gesturing to the exhibit behind me through the tall, glass walls, “is what happens when you let kids take up space.”
Applause, warm and genuine, interrupts, and I smile.
“And today,” I go on, “it’s my great pleasure to announce the groundbreaking for The Callahan Studio for Young Artists—a permanent space in partnership with the Art Institute, dedicated to children whose voices are too often unheard.”
The crowd erupts.
The ceremony goes on, Callahan and I performing the first honorary shovels of dirt moments, cameras flashing all around us.
“Looking forward to working with you, Amalie. And don’t forget to check the front page of the Tribune tomorrow—our smiling faces will be front and center.”
From a girl who stressed about next month’s rent to the front page of the Chicago Tribune… not bad, if I do say so myself.
When it’s all over, my family finds me.
“Congrats, sis,” Kyle says, giving me a hug that makes sure to leave space for the giggling little guy on his chest.
“Thanks, bro.”
“Well-earned,” Andrei says, offering me a hug as well.
“Hugs?” I say in a playful tone.
“They’re not common, but they do happen,” he replies with a wink.
“Oh, my little girl!” Mom exclaims, throwing her arms around me. “I always knew one day you’d be giving big speeches and telling people what to do.”
“Are you calling me bossy?” I ask with a playful smirk.
“Not at all. More like assertive in the best way possible.”
I hug her back, so grateful to see her.
Sasha says nothing, instead rushing over and wrapping his arms around my legs.
“Love you, little guy.”
“Love you too.”
Roman leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. “You did this,” he says. “You earned it.”
“We did this,” I reply.
Together, we watch the crowd mingle, the kids play. Sasha joins them without hesitation.
There’s much more work to be done.
I can’t wait to get started.