Epilogue
Leah
The two little ones in my arms had just finished eating and were propped against my shoulders, working up their burps.
Alexander Volkov and Camille Volkov. Three-month-old twins.
Cut from the same cloth as their dad—black hair, black eyes, born with a scowl on their faces. First time Roman held him, he said the kid would grow up to be a ruthless little bastard. I kicked him without hesitation.
Camille was completely different. Round cheeks, big dark eyes, corners of her mouth always tilted up—looked like she was born to be a doll.
Right now, Alexander's little head rested against my left collarbone, a trace of milk still on his lips, eyelids drooping. He'd be out any second.
Camille was nestled in the crook of my right arm, eyes wide open, staring up at the stained glass in the church dome, mouth slightly parted like the whole world fascinated her.
One hand under Alexander's bottom, the other around Camille's back, I leaned into Roman's broad shoulder.
Waiting for the moment I'd been counting down to for three months.
Ever since Harper told me she and Nick were together, I'd been marking off the days.
The church doors opened slowly to the music.
The second Harper appeared in the doorway, my eyes burned.
She wore an A-line white dress, simple off-the-shoulder neckline, no extra lace or crystal, clean and sharp—exactly her style. Hair pulled up, showing off her defined jaw and neck, small pearl studs in her ears.
Her bouquet was lily of the valley mixed with white roses—I'd picked it myself. I'd worried it was too plain, but Harper confirmed it the second she saw it.
The flowers looked incredible in her hands.
Harper walked down the aisle one step at a time, every step carrying that confidence of hers. Harper never bowed her head to anyone, not even at her own wedding. Chin slightly raised, hint of a smile playing at her lips.
I looked toward the end of the aisle at the man waiting for her. Nick.
He looked insanely handsome today, though his expression was still that cold mask.
But the way he looked at Harper was fevered.
Those perpetually cold eyes hadn't blinked since Harper stepped onto the red carpet, pupils reflecting the light through the stained glass, holding a tenderness I'd never seen on his face before.
Different from Roman's gaze. Nick's love was steady, quiet, never proclaimed loudly, but deeply reassuring.
Everyone in the church fell silent. Since Nick's ex walked out on him, he hadn't dated anyone, practically sealed his heart shut. Now that he'd found love again, all his colleagues were happy for him. One of the enforcers I recognized was even secretly wiping his eyes until someone elbowed him.
Watching this, I couldn't help turning to Roman, found him gazing at me with the same tenderness.
This was the most beautiful thing I could imagine—being with the man I loved, watching my best friend find happiness.
Harper reached Nick quickly. Didn't wait for the priest to speak. Just stuck out her hand, bold as ever.
Nick didn't hesitate either. Slipped the ring on fast. The priest looked exasperated. Harper laughed quietly. Nick watched his bride, corner of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly.
For Nick's level of expression control, that was basically beaming.
Harper rushed through her vows, so fast the priest tried to interrupt several times and couldn't. She was never sentimental, but every word was crisp and decisive, love flowing naturally through them.
Nick's vows were one sentence. But they instantly made Harper's eyes red.
I sat too far away to hear, but I saw Harper's expression change, saw her bite her lip trying to hold back tears, saw her finally fail—eyes red, laughing as she cursed something at him.
"Hey, what did Nick say?" I asked Roman beside me.
Roman kept stroking my hand, lifting it to kiss.
"I'll protect you forever. You're my second life."
Hearing that vow, I teared up too. Especially coming from Nick—I didn't doubt his resolve for a second.
"You may kiss your bride."
Nick cupped the back of Harper's head with one hand, other arm around her waist. He kissed her the same way he did everything—direct, precise, no nonsense. Harper's bouquet got crushed between them, petals drifting down to the carpet.
Applause and whistles filled the church.
My tears finally fell.
One after another, hitting Alexander's blanket, dark spots spreading. I tried wiping them with the back of my hand but couldn't keep up—tears just kept coming. Camille shifted from the movement, letting out an unhappy whimper.
Roman glanced at me, then pulled out a handkerchief, gently wiping the tears from my right cheek.
"You're crying harder than the bride."
"Shut up."
After the ceremony, the church atmosphere relaxed. Guests stood in small groups, chatting as they headed out. Sunlight poured through the open doors, coating the whole church in warm gold.
Harper lifted her dress and came down from the altar, heading straight for me.
Her makeup was smudged, mascara smeared at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't care. She stopped in front of me, took a deep breath.
"Leah Volkova. I'm married! Did you see that?"
"I saw it. I'm a mess, you brat." I pressed the handkerchief Roman gave me to my face—already soaked with tears and snot.
"Thank you for sticking with me all these years. Thank you for being at my wedding." Harper threw her arms around me.
My nose stung again.
I passed both kids to Roman. He took them like a pro now—Alexander in his left arm, Camille in his right, rocking them naturally.
Then I opened my arms and held Harper tight.
Her dress brushed against my outfit, the remaining lily of the valley crushed between us, sweet fragrance filling the air. Her chin pressed against my shoulder. I felt her body trembling slightly.
"You're the one who's been there for me. I should thank you," I said, voice thick.
Harper sniffed.
"Okay, okay. If we keep going, our makeup's gonna be completely ruined."
We pulled apart, looking at each other's red, swollen eyes, then laughed at the same time.
Nick walked over, Roman behind him. Two tall men standing side by side—one expressionless, one cold-faced—with two three-month-old babies between them. The scene was so bizarre it deserved a photo.
Nick looked down at Alexander, then at Camille.
"Boss, your son's drooling on you."
"I know." Roman's tone was flat.
Harper leaned over, gently touching Camille's cheek. Camille immediately grinned at her, showing her bare gums.
"God, this little girl is too sweet." Harper's voice shot up two octaves.
"Now look at this one." She turned to Alexander. Alexander frowned in his sleep, burped expressionlessly.
"This one's exactly like his dad."
Camille smiled at Harper again, reaching out to grab her finger. The twins' personalities were already showing at three months—Alexander quiet and aloof, Camille warm and lively. I often felt God did it on purpose, stuffing half of Roman's personality into Alexander, half of mine into Camille.
Nick extended one finger, touching Alexander's little fist. The fist opened instinctively in sleep, five tiny fingers gripping Nick's index finger tight.
"Nick." Roman's voice came from beside him.
Nick looked up.
"You have a new assignment."
Roman's gaze moved from the children to Nick's face.
"Have a kid soon. Alexander and Camille need playmates."
Nick's expression didn't change. But he and Harper exchanged a look at the exact same second.
The look was quick—if I hadn't been watching them the whole time, I'd have missed it. But the information packed into that look was massive.
A knowing, secret-holding, smile-suppressing understanding.
Harper looked away first, pretending to arrange her bouquet. Nick's gaze returned to Alexander, face still blank, but his ears turned red.
My brain took two seconds to process.
Something was off.
I looked at Harper.
Harper felt my gaze and slowly, guiltily turned her head.
"Harper!" I yelled.
When I called her name, her shoulders visibly tensed.
"Is there something you haven't told me?"
Harper's lips pressed together. Then she sighed, looking resigned, switching the bouquet to her left hand, right hand unconsciously covering her lower abdomen.
"Fine. I'm pregnant."
"You're pregnant? When? How far along? Why didn't you tell me?"
Harper backed up two steps under my rapid-fire questions, raising both hands in surrender.
"I just found out, okay? Tested last week. Seven weeks. I was planning to tell you after the wedding today. You just had your babies—I didn't want to stress you out."
"Stress me out? I'm stressed out now! Can't you see I'm extremely stressed?"
"That's exactly why I didn't say anything earlier!"
I took two deep breaths, trying to calm down. Then I grabbed Harper's hand, yanking her close, looking her up and down.
"Are you taking folic acid? It's crucial in early pregnancy."
"Yeah, yeah, taking it."
"Nauseous? Is the morning sickness bad?"
"Not too bad so far. Just a little queasy in the morning."
"No more heels. Starting today, switch to flats."
"These are my wedding shoes, for God's sake."
"Wedding shoes don't matter. What if you twist your ankle? You think falling while pregnant is a joke? And your coffee habit has to change. One cup a day max, no more than two shots of espresso, no ice."
"You're more annoying than my mom."
"Because your mom's not in New York, so I have to be."
I thought of another one.
"Also, no hot baths in the first trimester. Water can't be over thirty-eight degrees. Your habit of soaking until you're wrinkled has to stop."
"Are you ever going to stop?"
"Nope. I can keep going till tomorrow morning."
Harper watched me ramble, mouth slowly curving up. She didn't interrupt again, just listened quietly, eyes holding a warm, watery smile.
I kept talking, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" Harper asked.
"When I was pregnant, you did this too," I said.
"Same nagging. Same worrying."
My throat tightened. The feeling was strange—only a year had passed, but it felt like a lifetime.
I'd gone from an unemployed girl who couldn't pay rent to the queen of New York's underworld, holding two babies, standing beside a man who'd taken a bullet for me.
And Harper had gone from a feisty girl cursing out landlords to a hitman's wife, carrying the next generation.
Harper picked up softly.
"Just one year. Remember what we were doing a year ago? Crammed in that leaky apartment, you calling the landlord a bloodsucker, me sending out resumes. We didn't even know where next month's rent was coming from."
I glanced down at Alexander and Camille in Roman's arms, then at Harper's hand resting unconsciously on her belly.
"Now you're standing in a church in a wedding dress. And we both have kids."
"Life's unpredictable, isn't it?"
We looked at each other for a second, then laughed at the same time and turned around.
Roman and Nick stood side by side in the church light, bathed in the colors from the stained glass. Roman held a baby in each arm, profile touched by warm light. Nick stood beside him, hands behind his back, posture straight, navy suit showing fine texture in the sunlight.
They were both watching us.
A year ago, we were each struggling through our own hell.
Now, the sun was perfect.
I leaned back against Roman's shoulder, reaching out to smooth Alexander's bunched-up blanket, then tapping Camille's little nose with my fingertip.
Roman lowered his head, lips against the top of my head, voice soft.
"Ready to go home?"
"Home."