Chapter Forty-Five-Andrea
It feels like the whole world has narrowed down to this room.
Just me. Remy. Our twins nestled in their little bassinets.
And Callie, curled up on the bed beside me, her little body pressed to my side while she hums some nonsense tune and strokes Elena’s tiny socked foot.
It’s quiet, soft, peaceful. A cocoon I don’t want to leave.
I glance up at Remy, who’s stretched out at the edge of the mattress, big body somehow relaxed and on guard at the same time, watching all of us like we’re his most precious treasure.
And maybe we are. The thought warms me from the inside out.
A knock at the door breaks the spell. My mother-in-law.
“Time for you to shower, sweetheart. I’ll take the babies.”
Her smile is gentle but firm, and soon enough she’s whisking both bassinets into the nursery, Callie trotting after her with the solemn promise to “watch my babies.”
Which leaves me with Remy.
My body aches in ways I never imagined. Stretched. Raw. Changed.
And I know I need the shower, but when Remy offers to help me in and out, nerves twist in my gut.
“Remy,” I murmur, one hand tugging at the hem of my maternity gown. “Aren’t you put off? By my—” I gesture vaguely at myself, at the belly that still feels swollen and soft and foreign. “By this?”
For a heartbeat, he goes utterly still. Then his jaw flexes, his eyes flash, and suddenly his big hand cups my neck, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
“No,” he growls, voice low, dangerous, reverent all at once. “I love your body more now than ever. Your body grew our children. It brought them into this world. It welcomes me whenever I touch you.”
His grip tightens, just enough to remind me who I belong to.
“This body is a temple. A miracle. And I am crazy about every inch of it. This body, Andy? It’s mine.”
Heat rushes through me. Tears sting my eyes. And for the first time since delivery, I believe him.
Later, dressed in soft leggings and a sweater that actually fits, I walk down to the living room at his side.
My hand tucked into his, Callie darting in front of us, already squealing about the Christmas tree.
The house is alive with the chaos of family.
The Volkov Clan in full force, voices overlapping, laughter bouncing off the walls, platters of food passed hand to hand.
Potluck dishes everywhere—piroshki, roasted meats, salads, and the traditional homemade sourdough baskets, warm and fragrant, piled high in the center of the long table.
There are more gifts than anyone could ever count stacked under two trees—the grand one in the living room, glittering and regal, and the smaller, sparkly one in the playroom that Callie decorated herself with every shiny thing she could get her hands on.
And at the heart of it all? My parents.
My mom cooing over Elena, my dad cradling Andrew with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. Callie dancing around their legs like the proudest big sister in the world.
Dad lifts his head and finds Remy across the room. For a long moment, something unspoken passes between them.
Then Dad nods once, slow and solid, and when his gaze shifts to me, he gives me a smile.
And I smile back.
Because he gets it now.
No more doubts. No more games.
Remy is everything I want.
Everything I need.
“Mom,” I call, heart swelling as I take in my family—my husband, my children, all of us together. “Let’s plan that belated reception party.”
Her face lights with joy, and she nods, eyes shining.
“Yes, sweetheart,” she says. “Let’s.”
And for the first time in forever, I believe in happily ever after.