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Four hours later, I become a father for the second time. The second time—when it comes to anything—is supposed to be easier than the first. More predictable at least.
But for me, it’s new.
I look down at the perfectly miniature face of my daughter as she sleeps in my arms, then to her mother’s sweaty, exhausted, glowing one. Lyla beams, watching me hold Rose.
I lean down and kiss her, the worry and anxiety melting away, leaving happiness and relief behind. I whisper how much I love her, the words more for me than for her. Saying them feels good. It’s the same giddiness of watching someone open a present you picked out for them.
Lyla and I are a love story with an obvious ending. I would burn the world or rebuild it, just for her.
We might have an obvious ending, but we had unlikely chapters. We met by coincidence. Overcame odds. Escaped horrors. Reconnected randomly.
There are so many ways in which we could have not ended up here. If her friend Kennedy had led her to the right party the night we met. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant. If my father and brothers weren’t murdered. If she hadn’t cut her hand and seen Alex. If Bianchi hadn’t sent men to her apartment.
But here we are.
The door opens, and Leo walks into the room. I catch a glimpse of two of the members of his security team in the hall before the door shuts again. They both look exasperated.
I glance at Lyla and grin. She’s not too exhausted to roll her eyes at me.
Honestly, I have mixed feelings about Leo joining the Bratva. Your instinct as a parent is protecting your child from everything. But I’m damn proud Leo has all the traits of aPakhan.
He looks like a kid now though, staring at Rose with wide, amazed eyes.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Lyla says.
Leo rushes to the side of the bed, climbing onto the mattress and snuggling next to her.
“Do you want to hold your little sister?” I ask.
Leo’s head bobs wildly in response to my question. I smile, then lean down and carefully transfer the sleeping baby from my arms to his. Leo’s expression is serious and focused as he tightens his hold on the bundle of blankets.
Leo looks at Rose, and Lyla looks at both our kids, and I look at all three of them. Stare in wonder at my family.
For me, family was always a bargaining chip and a hierarchy.
For Lyla, family was absent.
Together, our family is perfect.
THE END
