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ISABELLA
Four years later.
Sitting outside on the patio, I watch as Mariya scowls at Viktor, Demitri and Ariana’s son. “Be nice,” I call out to our daughter. Lately, she’s been giving Viktor hell.
“Leave her,” Alexei says. “She’s just going through a phase.”
“Don’t take her side when she does something wrong,” I chastise him.
“I’ll take her side even if she wipes out a small country,” he chuckles as if that would be something funny.
“I can’t win with you. Mariya has you wrapped around her little finger.”
“As it should be,” Alexei murmurs while looking at our daughter with all the love in the world.
Demitri sits down in one of the chairs. “Don’t worry about them, Bella. Kids will be kids.”
Ariana comes out of the house and sets a salad down on the table, and it has me asking, “Need any help?”
“Nope, I’ve got this. You watch the kids and make sure they don’t kill each other.”
Ana places a garlic bread next to the salad, and then she walks to where Mariya and Viktor are sitting in the sandbox.
“Want me to build you a castle?” Ana asks the kids.
Mariya turns her head away, pouting. As Alexei moves to get up, my hand darts out, and grabbing hold of his arm, I say, “Wait.”
“She’s angry because I won’t be her prince,” Viktor mutters while digging a finger into the sand.
Mariya’s chin begins to quiver, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
I have to tighten my grip on Alexei’s arm as his body tenses.
“My heart hurts,” Mariya sniffles, making my heart squeeze.
Viktor glances at her, and then he scoots a little closer. Leaning forward, he stares at Mariya’s face. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice sweet as pie.
“Because you’re mean.”
Viktor wraps his arm around Mariya’s shoulders, then he says, “Okay, I’ll be your prince.”
Instantly a triumphant smile spreads over Mariya’s face, and I slump back in my chair, shaking my head. “She takes after you,” I blame Alexei.
“So fucking cute,” Demitri murmurs.
Alexei grins at his friend. “I know.”
“Fucker. I meant both kids.”
“Of course.”
Ariana drops down on the chair next to me, shaking her head. “It feels like Bella and I have four kids. Would be nice to have husbands once in a while.”
“Amen, sister,” I agree.
The End.
