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I’m married to one of those fathers.
And I’ll bet every one of his brothers will be the same kind of father.
Exhaling, I say, “It’s only been three years, Papa. I’m not even twenty-four. Now, you’ll never have to worry about me. Not for one second. Or deal with that uncomfortable pinch in your heart if you saw Luka Gideon raise a hand to me, or pull my arm, or…whatever a man like him would do to a wife. I know you love me, Papa. That would have destroyed you. And while I don’t know how you feel about Katya, and I’ve only been back in Astoria for a few days, I can see she is utterly adored. You’re lucky, Papa. And if three years of your worry was the price you paid to sleep well for the rest of your life, then I think it was worth it. I’m leaving now. But I’ll be back.” I glance around. “You worked very hard to build this brotherhood, and I know you’re no angel. The O’Rourkes aren’t either. I am sorry if my taking off compromised your power. I want to make up for that. Teach me and show me how to run this Bratva with you.”
Papa still says nothing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you still like that cinnamon strudel Yulia used to make?”
“Maya makes it now.” His lips snarl. “And it’s terrible.”
“The bakery on Mayfair used to make a good strudel the way you like. I’ll pick up a tray and when I get here, we’ll brew coffee and get to work. Da?”
His eyes slipped closed. “Da.”
“I know you’re mad at me. And so, I won’t touch you. But tomorrow, I want a hug.” I waggle a finger at him and push out of the office.
Two steps later, I let go of a breath when I see Darragh in the kitchen.
A woman with olive skin is changing J.P. on one of the worktables, smiling.
“I have no idea who this is, but she said men don’t change diapers. She ripped him from my arms.”
“Maya?” I say to her as she’s lifting J.P. and cuddling him.
“Sí. He is beautiful.” She swings him around.
“That’s the future pakhan,” I inform her.
“And he shall eat like a king!” She keeps twirling him.
For a moment, I think of how my mother would have reacted to a grandson had she lived.
“We need to get going,” I say, signaling to Darragh I want to leave.
Maya hands over my son with a kiss on his forehead. James Patrick is one of many babies in the O’Rourke family now with a couple more on the way. Here, he’s special.
The king, like Maya said.
With him tucked into Darragh’s arms, he steers me to the door. We get outside, but he stops quickly.
“Oh wait. Did you want to see your old room?”
I glance up at the window of what used to be my room. The window I climbed out of.
“No. I don’t live here anymore. I live with you.”
“The real estate agent’s been sending me links to some nice places. I hope living with Kieran isn’t too stressful.”
“Not at all.” I loop my hand in Darragh’s arm as we walk to Griffin’s SUV.
“Katya just texted me.” Lachlan steps away from Sergei, staring down at his phone. “She’s done with the kids’ dance lessons for the day. How about we all have dinner at Divona?”
“That’s the code name for our house,” Darragh whispers to me.
“I love it.”
“I love you, Anastasia Koslov O’Rourke.”
