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He rises to his full height with two kids hanging on his biceps and swings them around. Two others have latched onto his legs as he drags one behind. Giggles fill the studio, and it’s what makes me smile the most these days.
That and a few other things my husband does when we’re alone.
Lachlan reaches me with four kids all over him. “Alo, Miss Katya.”
“Hello, my wonderful husband.” I kiss Lachlan’s cheek and peel the gleeful four-year-olds from him.
Their moms amble inside from the street a few minutes later, leaving me to suspect they stalk the studio to get a glimpse of the ‘monster.’ The most handsomeandscariest man in Astoria.
“I finished early and wanted to see how your arm feels.” Lachlan rubs the bump on my inner elbow, swelling from the tracker I agreed to get implanted.
“It’s a bit itchy.” I don’t mind it and it’s for my protection. I have nothing to hide from my husband. “Not as much as this?” My neck still stings a little from Lachlan’s name tattooed across my jugular.
PROPERTY OF LACHLAN O’ROURKE
My neck because, if I fall into the wrong hands, anyone who would dare to slit my throat would think twice about ending Lachlan O’Rourke’s wife
“I got an itch, too, if you know what I mean?” He kisses me, and I turn my head to see a group of moms standing there.
“Give me a minute.” I shuffle toward the four mothers who were brave enough to trust me with their little girls when I had zero teaching experience. They probably just need a break for a couple of hours a few days each week. So long asI’mnot a murderer, the moms drop off their little girls and go have a coffee, or just luxuriate with an afternoon nap. Also, I’m also not charging them. I don’t plan to charge anyone for a year. I want to prove myself.
Lachlan telling memy motheris dead was a blow. I knew she loved me and wouldn’t have stayed away from me all this time on purpose. Finding out for sure that she’s gone gives me closure. Learning my father had her killed infuriated me.AndLachlan, who begged Kieran to exact revenge. His request is being considered. For now, I’m never speaking to my father again.
Of course, finding out Grandpapa had ties to the French throne when he died a few years ago was surprising. Even though it’s technically a defunct monarchy, it came with a pension of a few hundred thousand a year. And a title! His estate was worth several million dollars in American money. Eoghan took care of all the legal paperwork for me and invested my money.
I bought Miss Theresa’s business and the building with my first pension check.
I didn’t see any reason to finish at East Side to give me a degree and a professional license to dance all over the world when I have the exact job and life I want right here in Astoria.
Greeting the moms, I say, “I’m thinking of a little Christmas pageant next month. A very trimmed down version of The Nutcracker.” I glance over my shoulder. “I’ve already cast the Nutcracker Prince.” Leaning in, I whisper, “He doesn’t know it yet.”
“I doubt he’ll say no to you,” one mom whispers back.
“Not the way he looks at you,” another says, lifting her sleepy daughter into her arms.
“I promise he’ll be gentle with the kids.” I cross my fingers behind my back, because he does get rough with them. But they’re tough little girls, who nearly pass out from laughing at his antics.
“Oh, I spoke to Lola at the gymnastics center,” Nicole’s mom says, smiling. “She said she’d love to do a cross promo event for their gymnasts who also do dance.” She texts me often to meet for coffee and I consider her a friend.
I clutch my new cross. “Thank you.” The necklace Papa gave me now sits in a box. Lachlan replaced it with a gorgeous, braided gold chain and vintage pendant from his mother’s collection rumored to be blessed by the pope himself.
Nicole’s mom leans in for a hug and whispers, “Is the morning sickness still an issue?”
“It finally passed.” I swipe at my three-month pregnant belly, which isn’t showing yet.
But it will be, considering the size of my husband. I just don’t know how massive I’ll get carrying six-foot-six Lachlan O’Rourke’s baby. Wee ones, his family calls them. It’s adorable, especially since Lachlan’s child will be anything but ‘wee.’
He’s so thrilled to be a dad. He loves holding and feeding his nephews, Kieran’s twins, who have finally arrived. I know my husband secretly hopes we have a boy, too. Then I see how he smiles at the tiny dancers here at the studio, and I know he’s picturing a little girl. We’re married and in love, so there’s no stopping us from having as many kids as we want.
When the studio is empty, Lachlan winds his arm around me and kisses my shoulder. “Ready to go, princess?”
“Yes!” My heart beats quicker, excited to spend the weekend in East Hampton with Shea, who’s hosting a fall gala Saturday night at a fancy winery.
“Yes, what?” He pinches his chin. “You never came up with a nickname for me.”
“I’ll just call you what your baby will. Daddy.”
He calls his father Da. I called my father Papa. We wanted something different for us.
