Page 154 of Toxic Attraction
"I'm—" His voice cracks. He sets down the test carefully. Pulls me against him hard. "I'm terrified and thrilled and completely overwhelmed."
"That's fair." I wrap my arms around him.
"Three kids is a lot." He laughs. Actually laughs. Then pulls back to look at me. "Are you happy? Scared? Having regrets about marrying me?"
"Happy. A little scared. Zero regrets." I touch his face. "We're good at this now. Good at the family thing. At raising kids who are loved and safe."
"We are." He places his hand on my stomach. Still flat. No sign of the life growing there yet.
He kisses me gently. "Thank you. For this. For all of it. For giving me a family I didn't think I deserved."
"You deserve happiness, Lev. You've fought for it. Bled for it. You've earned this."
We stand there in his study, holding each other, processing the news that our family is growing again.
Then Xander appears in the doorway. "Papa, can you play cars with me?"
Lev looks at the tablet showing business reports. The phone with messages waiting. The empire that demands his attention.
Then at our son. Five years old and asking for his father.
"Yes." He releases me. "Let's play cars."
Xander's face lights up. He grabs Lev's hand, drags him toward the playroom.
I watch them go. Lev settling on the floor without complaint. Xander chattering about racetracks and crashes. Two Volkovs playing together like the world isn't full of darkness.
This is who we are now. Who we've become.
The next day, we pay our usual visit to the cemetery. It is quiet on Tuesday mornings. That's why Lev chooses Tuesdays for his monthly visits. Fewer people. More privacy. Space to grieve without an audience.
We usually come alone, but today, he brought the kids along.
We pull through the gates just after 10 AM. Lev parks near the section where they're buried. Sits for a moment with his hands on the steering wheel.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah." He looks back at the kids. Mila silent and understanding. Xander confused but patient.
We walk through rows of headstones. Past elaborate monuments and simple markers. To a quiet corner where two graves rest side by side.
EKATERINA VOLKOVA 'Beloved Wife and Mother'
DMITRI VOLKOV 'Our Sweet Boy'
Lev stands before them. Silent. I can see him gathering words.
Mila moves closer. Slips her hand into his. She remembers them. Not clearly—she was too young. But she remembers enough.
"Hi Mama," she whispers. "Hi Dmitri. We came to visit you."
Lev's grip on her hand tightens.
Xander tugs my sleeve. "Who are they?"
"Your papa's first family," I explain gently. "Before you and Mila and me. They died a long time ago."
"That's sad."
