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She smiles at me with such pride in her eyes that I lean over and kiss her again.
“They’re so precious, just like you,” she whispers against my lips. “I love you, Khristian. I love you so much.”
I rub her nose with mine. “I love you, too. I want to remember this day for the rest of my life. The day you made me a Father.”
I stroke my daughter's cheek as she gurgles. I’ve no idea what it takes to do all the little things that babies need, but I’m going to be the best Dad I can be. Just like my own Father who I look up to and respect greatly.
“If it’s okay, I’d like to name him after my father, and yours too if you’d like?”
We’ve discussed names here and there, but we didn’t find out the sex of the babies until they were born.
“Of course. We loved the name Feliks; it means to be lucky.”
“Feliks Alistair Aleksander Petrov, I love it.” She glances down at him. “It suits him.”
“And our daughter?”
She laughs. “You know we have to keep our promise to the girls.”
The girls she’s referring to are of course Ariana and Charlize. “Arilize?”
“I think it’s pretty, don’t you?”
I glance down at my daughter as I hold her against my chest. “Arilize Anya Mila Petrov.”
Anya being my grandmother, Mila being my mother.
“Khristian! That’s so perfect!”
I lean down and kiss her again. “Not as perfect as you, my Krasavitsa.”
A warm tingling feeling flows through me. A surge of protectiveness that I’ve always had for my wife suddenly doubles. My children. I’m a Father.
I wipe a hand over my face.
“Are you okay, honey?” She gives me a sympathetic look and I chuckle.
“You just produced two tiny humans out of your body — that you’ve been carrying for nine months — and you ask me if I’m okay?”
“You look a little ashen, that’s all.”
I shake my head. “I’m perfect, my darling. I’ve never been so happy, aside from the day we were married. Oh, and that time I appeared at your hotel room as your escort.”
She bites down on her lip as I laugh, the flush staining her cheeks is adorable. “Yes, I remember it well.”
“My obsession started right then and there.”
“It did?”
“Yes.”
My daughter moves and I’m blessed when she turns and her eyes open as I cradle her head. She’s looking at me.
“She already adores you,” Imogen whispers. “Just like me, and Feliks.”
She’s so precious. I stroke her chubby cheek and she closes her eyes. I’m lost for words.
“I think we could keep doing this,” I say, glancing up.
