Chapter Fifty-One
Mind y
The past few weeks have been intense, to say the least.
Maron’s house has become our bubble, and we’re making the most of it. We’re almost like teenagers in love for the first time, sneaking kisses in the kitchen whenever Sharon’s distracted. We make love in every room in the mansion whenever it’s possible. The nights are hot. We can’t get enough of each other. It’s like we’re trying to cram seven years of missed opportunities into every day.
But it’s not just about getting our rocks off. We’re talking now. Like, really talking. We stay up for hours, hashing out all the crap from our past. It’s not always pretty, but it feels like we’re finally getting to each other.
Maron opened up about stepping back from the Bratva. He also told me everything about Eva and her twin sister, Rachel. It was not easy to hear. Made me constantly think of Emily and how much I miss her.
As for me… Well, I didn’t have that much to share. My life’s been all about Sharon for the past seven years. Her first steps. Her first words. Dealing with her selective mutism. Worrying about bills, work, putting food on the table… Not exactly thriller material.
So yes, there’s this new understanding between us now. We’re building something real, something that feels… solid. Unbreakable, even. It’s scary and exciting all at once.
Sharon’s recovery is our primary focus, of course. Maron’s pulled out all the stops, bringing in an expert therapist, and the best private medical care money can buy. She’s making progress, slowly but surely. Her words are still scarce, but she’s opening up bit by bit. To me, at least.
But with Maron, she’s gone silent. It hurts him; I can see it in his eyes. He’s trying so hard to connect with Sharon but with no success so far.
"When do you think we should tell her I’m her dad?" Maron asks.
"Let’s give her a little time to heal," I reply, my heart aching with the weight of the secret we still carry.
We sink into a comfortable silence, drinking in the pristine winter scene before us. From our spot on the patio, steam rising from our warm drinks, we watch December paint its first masterpiece. Last night’s snow blankets everything in sight, and though it’s barely afternoon, the Sun is already approaching the horizon, bathing the landscape in honey-gold light.
"You know," I whisper softly, "it still feels surreal, sometimes. I never thought we’d be together. You, me, and Sharon."
Maron leans over, his lips brushing the top of my head with such tenderness that a certain area between my legs starts to tingle. "You better get used to it, lisichka , because I’m not going anywhere," he murmurs.
A smile tugs at my lips, words of love and passion forming on my tongue, when my phone buzzes against the table. Alexis’s name illuminates the screen. She’s been staying at my place since the night of Sharon’s kidnapping, worried sick about her niece. Ever since I broke the news about Sharon’s ordeal, she’s been checking in on us every single day like clockwork.
"Let me take this," I murmur to Maron. "It’s my sister."
Maron’s eyes soften with understanding as he rises silently, giving me the space I need.
"Hey, sis," I answer the call, settling against the balcony railing. "How are things back home? We’re still at Maron’s house."
"Going well, sis," Alexis’s voice carries that worried-sister tone she’s perfected lately. "Everything okay? How’s Sharon doing?"
"She’s getting there," I tell her, letting a heavy sigh escape. The weight of what happened still sits heavy in my chest.
There’s a loaded pause on the other end of the line. "And you and Maron?"
A smile sneaks onto my face before I can help it. "We’re giving it another shot."
"Wow," Alexis breathes. "That’s... big. I’m happy for you, sis!"
"Thanks, sis. It’s crazy, but it feels... right." The certainty in my voice surprises even me.
"As long as you’re happy, sis," Alexis says, warmth flooding through her words. Then her tone shifts, taking on that slight nervous edge. "So, um, speaking of changes... remember that um… guy I told you about? The one from rehab?"
"Yep. How are things going with him?"
"Well, I... It looks like we’re also getting serious, Mindy."
I straighten up, pleasant surprise coursing through me. "That’s amazing, Alexis! I’m really happy for you."
"Thanks, sis." There’s a shuffling sound, followed by Alexis clearing her throat. "Actually, I was wondering... Since you’re at Maron’s now... would it be okay if he crashed here for a few nights? Only a few nights, I swear." She rushes the words out, then adds with a hint of excitement threading through her voice, "We actually have a few viewings lined up for next week. We decided to move in together."
I feel my stomach tighten. Part of me wants to say no, to clutch that space like the security blanket it’s been all these years. It’s my apartment - my sanctuary, my escape route, my piece of independence. But then my heart softens, remembering how hard Alexis has worked since rehab, pouring herself into being the sister I need and the aunt Sharon deserves.
I draw in a steadying breath, pushing down my hesitation. "Sure, Lex. As long as you don’t trash the place," I add with a lightness.
Alexis responds with a squeal so high-pitched I have to yank the phone from my ear, wincing. Her unbridled joy almost makes up for the nervous flutter in my stomach.
"Oh my God, thank you, Mindy!" The words tumble out of her in a rush of excitement. "You’re the best sister ever, you know that?"
I push my lips into a smile, knowing she can’t see it but hoping she can hear it. "Yeah, yeah. But seriously, take good care of the place, okay?"
"Hey," she says, her tone softening. "Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it like it’s our own. And it’ll only be a few days before we find our own place."
As I end the call, an unexpected feeling emerges. That peculiar sensation of watching a door close while another opens. It’s like standing on the edge of something vast and new, my heart caught between the thrill of moving forward and the bittersweet ache of letting go.
It’s exciting and terrifying, all at once.
***
It’s Sharon’s bedtime.
I tuck her in, watching her small form nestle among the pillows. I reach for one of her favorite storybooks, a well-loved tale of magical dreams and far-off adventures, and begin reading for her. As the last words fade from the final page, Sharon looks up at me, her blue eyes holding a gravity.
"Mommy, I had a dream last night," she says softly, her voice still a rarity that makes my heart stumble in my chest.
I brush a silken strand of hair from her forehead. "What did you dream, baby?"
She holds the silence for a moment, then whispers, "I dreamed that Maron was my dad."
The words catch me like a swift current. I can’t believe it. This is the moment. I’ve been rehearsing this in my head for so long, but now that it’s here, all my practiced words dissolve on my tongue.
"Did you talk to him in your dream?" I manage, studying my daughter’s face. The question carries more weight than she could possibly understand.
She nods. "Yes."
"And what did you tell him?"
I watch the thoughts dance behind her eyes, her little brow furrowing in concentration. "I don’t remember."
"Were you happy? In the dream, about Maron being your dad?"
She burrows into my neck like a shy kitten, nodding. Her "Uh-huh" barely brushes against my skin, but it’s there.
I gently draw her back, needing to see those eyes that are so much like Maron’s. My heart races as I ask the question that means everything: "Sharon, honey... if Maron really was your dad, would you talk to him?"
A little smirk plays across her lips as she nods, and I feel tears prick at my eyes.
"Pinky swear?" I hold out my finger, a tremor running through it.
She wraps her tiny pinky around mine, nodding with such enthusiasm it makes her curls bounce.
This is it. The moment that’s been living in my heart, equal parts terror and hope. My palms are slick with nervous sweat, and there’s a boulder growing in my throat. I send up a silent prayer that this truth won’t disrupt the delicate peace we’ve found, won’t push her back into silence.
I draw in a steadying breath.
Here goes nothing, Mindy.
"Well, baby..." My voice comes out surprisingly steady. "I’ve got something to tell you. Maron really is your dad."
Time seems to freeze as Sharon stares at me, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. I can almost hear the click of puzzle pieces falling into place in her mind. Then, like sunrise breaking through storm clouds, her face transforms. A smile unfurls across her features, starting as a tender bud and blooming until it reaches her eyes, igniting them with sparkle.
"Really?" The word floats between us like a wish.
I nod, feeling tears gather at the corners of my eyes. "Really, sweetheart."
Sharon bolts upright, suddenly vibrating with excitement. "Can I go tell him? Now?"
The eagerness in her voice, the simple fact that she wants to speak to him, makes my heart soar. I press a kiss to her warm cheek, tasting the joy radiating from her. "You can tell him in the morning, baby." I tuck the blanket snugly around her small frame. "Now it’s time for you to sleep, honey bunny."
As I give her a goodnight kiss and slip out of her room, I can’t help but wonder if tomorrow will change everything. Again.
This time, though, I’m not afraid of change.