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“You’re happy, right?” I whisper. “I mean, we’ve been…”
Nick closes the distance between us, tugging me into his arms and resting our foreheads together. “I’m thrilled,malysha.”
I exhale, relief and happiness making me dizzy. “Good. It’s not returnable.”
He chuckles lightly, then kisses me. It starts out sweet and soft. Like a breeze rustling blades of grass or embers in a fireplace. Then, it shifts. The wind picks up, and flames grow.
Nick tugs me closer and then spins me around so my back is against the wall. Most of the furniture—including the bed—was moved out of here for today. All that’s left are the chair, where I’m supposed to be getting my makeup applied, and the long table, covered with every beauty product imaginable.
Nick’s mouth moves to my throat, then even lower. The slit in my robe parts easily, drooping down to reveal the strapless bra and thong, which is all I’m wearing underneath.
He says a stream of rough Russian. I’m getting better at understanding the language, but I’m so overwhelmed by the pulsing between my legs that I’m not sure I’d comprehendanylanguage right now.
I buck against his hand, now resting on my thigh. “Please.”
I feel needy and desperate. Maybe it’s pregnancy hormones. Maybe because it’s my wedding day. Maybe it’s the intimacy of being able to tell the father of my child I’m pregnant minutes after finding out myself.
“We’ll be late,” Nick says as his hand is already moving between my legs.
The lace of my underwear is impatiently tugged to the side, and then one finger fills me, quickly followed by a second.
I moan, rocking against his hand and riding his fingers. “You’re the boss. They can wait.”
He flicks my clit, making me yelp. “Eto moye, Lyla.”
“Da,” I breathe.
His fingers slip out of me, and something much thicker takes its place. I arch against the intrusion and moan as his cock slides deeper. Nick groans as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.
He fucks me fast and hard. I come with a muffled cry, feeling the warmth of his release fill me seconds later.
There’s a loud knock on the door.
“We should have eloped,” I whisper.
Nick chuckles. He kisses me, slow and sweet. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Another impatient knock sounds.
Nick kisses me once more, then heads for the door. I walk into the bathroom again to clean up. My cheeks are flushed and my hair mussed. But I lookhappyas I fix my hair and straighten my robe.
I grasp the rose charm hanging from my neck, rubbing the metal between two fingers. Rather than a reminder of the past—than a warning—I look at it like a symbol of strength. A sign of fierce beauty.
I doubt that’s what my mother was trying to tell me when she gave me it. More likely, it was the first necklace she saw or it was the one on sale. But that doesn’t bother me as much as it once did. I’ve left my mother and her mistakes in the past, where they belong. Accepted her life wasn’t black and white, and mine isn’t either. That I don’t have to look for the contrast in my decisions compared to hers in order to make the correct choice.
When I reemerge into the bedroom, there’s a team waiting. My hair is brushed and curled. My skin is wiped and painted. And then I step into the white gown that’s hung in this room for the last few weeks.
Leo is waiting in the hallway when I walk outside, clutching a bouquet of roses.
“You look really pretty, Mom,” he tells me.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I kiss the top of his head because I have a feeling this is one day he’ll indulge me.
Leo holds out a hand to me. We walk down the stairs side by side, out the front door and into the yard that’s alive with color. Rows and rows of seats line the aisle, mostly filled with unfamiliar faces. I’m only focused on the familiar one waiting at the end of the aisle.
Nick watches me and Leo approach him, his expression severe with emotion. I wonder if he’s seeing our whole future stretched ahead of us the way I am.
