EPILOGUE
NATALYA
I’m looking in the mirror at myself. The dress I chose five or six months ago had to be taken out the minute I started to show.
It’s made of white silk with a bodice covered in pearls and a pattern of flowers down one side.
I love it… or at least I did before I started my journey to getting as big as a house.
I rub my stomach. It feels like I’m carrying a bowling ball under here. And to think, I’m going to get bigger than this in the months to come.
The door opens behind me and Ilya walks in.
She’s wearing her soft blue dress with a white flower in her hair.
The colors I chose look really good on her.
It suits the deep ivory of her skin tone.
All morning, she’s been a little more than a blur to me, darting around the church and making sure everything is right where it’s supposed to be for my big day.
She’s been my number-one player since I told her about my pending nuptials.
She pauses the moment she sees me and puts her hand to her mouth, her eyes watering. “Oh, my God, Nat.”
“Stop,” I say turning away from her. “Don’t you dare cry for the white whale.”
She laughs and walks over to me, brushing away a curl that’s falling into my face. My hair is up in a million of them, up and cascading down my back with a crown of little white flowers. She looks at me and shakes her head. “You are just so beautiful. Anton is going to flip when he sees you.”
I nod and she steps away, momentarily looking around the room.
I glance back at the mirror. Anton’s been wonderful to me throughout all this.
Every pound I gain, he seems to celebrate.
This morning when I caught a glance at myself in the mirror after my shower, he walked up behind me and kissed my neck, his hands on my baby bump.
“More of you to love,” he whispered in Russian.
That makes me smile a little. At least he still thinks I’m beautiful. I hope that never changes.
“You need to stop worrying about the very natural thing that’s happening to you,” Ilya says, bringing me my bouquet, “and focus on the fact that in about an hour, your last name will change to Romanov.”
That’s a nice thought. “That’ll be nice,” I say. “I’m tired of carrying around Vladimir’s name like fucking luggage. If I weren’t getting married, I’d have changed it long ago.”
She nods. “I don’t blame you. At least the majority of his people joined Anton’s Bratva.”
“They didn’t have a choice. Sink or swim, or so Anton said.” I turn back to the mirror, trying to see what Ilya saw. I’m a beautiful bride, not a bloated whale woman.
Ilya puts her hands on my shoulders. “Trust me. When he sees you coming down the aisle, you’re going to blow his mind. He’ll feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
I chuckle. How crazy would that be? I’m the lucky one.
“I hope so. I really, really hope so.” I turn to her and say, “Is this crazy, Lee? I mean, last year around this time, I was dreaming about getting married to a surgeon and having a nice, boring life somewhere in the suburbs. Now…” I trail off, catching sight of myself in the mirror.
“Oh, boy. This is really happening, isn’t it? ”
“It is.”
I bite my lip, taking in my reflection one more time.
“Do you love him, Nat? I mean, really?”
I nod. “It’s the only thing I’m absolutely sure of.”
“Then you’ll figure everything else out.”
She hugs me, and it feels so good. She’s right. Anton and I have a deep love for one another. Everything else will fall into place.
Ilya pulls away from me and looks at the time on her phone. Her eyebrows go up. “You’ve got about five minutes. You ready?”
I take another look at myself, then I sigh. “Yeah. Let’s do this. Let’s get me married.”
We leave the room and move down the back way to the entrance of the sanctuary.
I’ve heard that this church is old. Older than a lot of places around town.
The minister marrying us even said that pieces of the church were brought over from Russia during its construction in the twenties.
As I walk to the door, I try to pay attention to the detail around the door because I feel like that’s important, but I just can’t. I’m so nervous.
I hear the music start. I’m surrounded by groomsmen and bridesmaids who are mostly made of members of the Bratva and their wives and girlfriends. They all go walking down the aisle, one by one. Right before Ilya goes, she winks at me and whispers, “You’re beautiful!”
I smile. God, I hope Anton thinks so, too.
They’re gone and it’s just me. An insane thought of running away comes over me and I push it out of my mind. Whatever happens, I can face it. It’s like Anton once said, I’m stronger than I think.
My music starts, the doors open, and I step through. There are so many people here. Friends, family, so many Bratva. Not even ones from Astrakhan, I don’t think. As I walk, my nerves set in with all the eyes on me.
Then I see him. Anton is standing at the end of the aisle in his black suit and silver tie, his eyes alight as he looks back at me. Suddenly, the nerves melt away. I feel like I’m walking on air.
The moment I reach him, he reaches out and takes my hand. “You are so beautiful,” he says softly.
“I’m as big as a house,” I say.
“You’re my queen,” he says, leaning into me, “and the most beautiful woman in this room. Never forget that.”
He squeezes my hands for emphasis. As he leans back and the ceremony begins, I realize that after everything, all that we went through, this is right where I belong. At his side.
“I love you,” I mouth to him, and his smile broadens.
“I love you,” he whispers back.