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I felt his smile on my neck when the baby kicked. Lyov tickled that side of my bump, and there was another kick in response. He laughed quietly, enjoying the playtime with our very energetic baby. The little one was happy in there, always responding to our touches.
My heart was filled with so much love that I thought it would burst. This was our Happily Ever After.
“I hope our baby has your smile,” Lyov said before placing a kiss in the sweet spot behind my ear.
I hummed in response and placed my hand over his, our baby cradled in our hands.
“Have you thought of a name?” he asked.
I smiled at that. “Yes.”
He tried to wait patiently, and I couldn’t hide my giggle when he growled at my long silence.
“If it’s a girl, I think…Sophia,” I murmured. My heart ached at the whispered name. Sophia. My beautiful Sophia. If I had a daughter, then I would believe the higher powers had returned my princess to me.
“It’s a beautiful name, Angel. I love it,” Lyov agreed. His arm grew tighter around me, and I melted into his embrace. “And if it’s a boy?”
“I was thinking…”
“Maria. Stop doing that. Just tell me. I’m kind of dying to know our son’s name.”
Turning around in his arms, I faced Lyov on the bed. We were on our sides, in the dark, awaiting sleep. I loved this. Our moments. Our late night talks.
My fingers traced his hard jaw and then his lips. He kissed my fingertips in response.
“Alessio,” I whispered. “Our son’s name will be Alessio.”
That name, too, had a meaning.
Lyov wasn’t silent for a minute. He stared into my eyes, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Do you not like the name?” I asked, feeling anxious that he would say no to my choice. Although by now, I knew that was impossible. Lyov could never say no to me.
“No. I like it. It’s a very appealing name.”
“But you don’t seem to like it. I can tell.”
He shook his head. His thumb caressed my cheek as he tried to soothe me and erase my worry. “I have no problem with it, Angel. I am just thinking what the Family would think. Alessio is an Italian name.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Because it’s not a Russian name?”
Lyov tried to shrug nonchalantly, but I pressed on. “Alessio means defender. It is a strong name, with an even stronger and more beautiful meaning behind it.”
His lips twitched at my passionate response, and I lifted my chin up in defiance. “Then tell me about it, Angel. Tell me the meaning,” he demanded softly into the darkness.
“There was a young boy at the abbey. He was only twelve. His name was Alessio. One of the helpers there, she ran away with her son from an abusive marriage. They found sanctuary at the abbey and helped us there. But he was sick.”
I paused at the memory. He was a sweet boy. Always ready to help. Always so nice and respectful. I still remembered the day we found out he didn’t have long to live. I still remembered his mother’s cries and then her anguished wail when he took his last breath, surrounded by all of us.
“He didn’t make it,” I murmured with a shiver of pain. My body pressed closer to Lyov, seeking comfort against the assaulting memories. “He was so strong, Lyov. He fought so hard. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to leave his mother alone. He was so mature at such a very young age.”
Lyov’s arms curled around me, and he pressed a kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering there sweetly. “That’s why I want to honor him. The same way I would like to honor Sophia’s memories one day if we have a daughter. They both deserve it.”
Lyov cleared his throat before finally speaking. “We will name our son Alessio.” He paused for a second before continuing. “I love it.”
My heart soared, and I stared up at him in surprise. “Really?”
He raised an eyebrow in a mocking question. “Have I ever refused you anything?”
I bit on my lips, trying to hide my smile, but it was impossible. With Lyov, I couldn’t hide my happiness, because he made me happy every day. “No. You have never. Thank you, Lyov.”
His lips met mine in a soft kiss, and I sighed almost dreamily. He pushed his tongue past my parted lips, and he kissed me in a way that drove me crazy. I returned his kiss with the same fervor, my tongue dancing and mating sweetly, almost lovingly. I moaned into his mouth as we pulled away.
“Don’t ever thank me for loving you and for giving you everything you deserve, Angel.” His rough voice was hoarse with emotions. His feelings—all his love for me—was clear in his gaze. His once unreadable icy grey eyes were now filled with so many unsaid emotions, with so much warmth and adoration that it left me breathless sometimes.
