Page 62

We reach the altar steps, and Dimitri comes down one step to meet us, offering his hand. My father looks at it, then at me, then at Dimitri. The hesitation in his movements belies how fresh our peace accord really is, but he places my hand in Dimitri's. "Take care of her," he says quietly, and then he steps back, handing me away one last time, this time to the man of my dreams.

"I will," Dimitri says. "Every day."

My father heads to his seat, and I climb the steps to stand beside my husband-to-be. The priest begins the liturgy in a language I understand but don't need to hear. I watch Dimitri's profile, the way his throat moves when he swallows, the way his fingers squeeze mine, grounding us both. He's everything I've ever wanted and more. It's just a shame I couldn't have my project finished to wed there instead of here. But any place is the right place when you're marrying the one you can't live without.

The ceremony moves through its rhythms. Prayers. Readings. A passage about love that is patient and kind, read by Alexei. When he reaches the part about love not being proud, I catch Natalia's eye in the front row. She's crying openly now, mascara running, not bothering to hide it.

Then the priest nods, and it's time for the vows.

Dimitri turns to face me fully. The church is silent, hundreds of people holding their breath, but he speaks only to me, as if we're alone before God himself.

"Alana," he says. "I spent years thinking strength meant being in control. You taught me it means having trust instead. You have taught me more in the past year than I've learned my whole life about what it means to be a real man. I only hope that those lessons you've taught me will stick around so I can be the best husband and father you deserve."

He pauses, and I see the emotion in his eyes as he swallows hard. "I don't promise you easy days. I don't promise you that our families won't test us, or that the world will understand who we are. But I promise you this. I will wake up every morning and choose you. Not because I have to, but because you're the woman I love, and loving you has made me the man I want to be."

He looks down at our joined hands, then back to my eyes. "And I promise you that our son will inherit a future built on love rather than bloodshed. I will pour myself into him and I will support you as you do the same."

The priest turns to me and nods, but I'm a little choked up. He has to hand me a tissue to dab my eyes before I can offer my vows.

"Dimitri," I say, still a little emotional. "You came into my life when I wasn't even looking for love and you changed me forever. Before I met you, I was scared and withdrawn. I hid from my own shadow. But you taught me resilience and gave me courage. You fought for me when I needed it most and you loved me when I pushed you away."

Dimitri is smiling, tears so big in his eyes it hurts to look at him, but I also can't look away.

"I choose you, now, tomorrow, and every day for the rest of my life. You are what I want and what I need."

The priest lifts his hands and raises his chin as he addresses everyone in the church. "By the power vested in me by God and this Council," he says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Dimitri has never been good at being patient. Before the priest even finishes, he cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, and he kisses me. It's not the polite press of lips I expected in front of this crowd. His mouth claims mine in a searing open-mouthed kiss that bends me backward and makes my foot lift off the ground as I cling to him.

Applause thunders around us, but I don't break away until I've memorized the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the absolute certainty that I'm exactly where I belong.

40

EPILOGUE

ALANA

My office sits in the converted rectory wing, separate from the main sanctuary where the restoration crews still work. It's been a year since I settled in and started working on restoring this old building, but it's nowhere near done.

I finish the final touches on the blueprint spread across my desk and set down my pencil. The radiators knock and hiss, fighting the December cold that seeps through the old stone walls, but I'm satisfied with my designs and I can't wait to see the finished product. Everything we've done so far has been fantastic.

The door opens and Dimitri appears with Misha balanced on his hip, both of them dusted with snow from outside. Misha sees me and lunges forward, his whole body arching toward me, making sounds that aren't quite words but carry clear intent. Every now and then I hear a clear "Mama", but he's still learning.

"He's been trying to escape since we left the apartment," Dimitri says. He sets Misha on the floor and our son immediately bolts toward my desk, his steps steady now at fifteen months but his hands reaching for anything within range.

I catch him before he grabs the blueprint. "No, little man. That's Mama's work."

He squirms in my arms until I set him on the floor beside a wooden truck I keep in the corner for exactly this purpose. He pushes it across the wood planks, fascinated by the sound of the wheels, then abandons it to investigate the bookshelf. That thick coat will stay on even indoors until we get the central heating installed next month.

Dimitri sheds his coat and crosses to me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back against his chest. We watch Misha pull a book off the lowest shelf and attempt to flip through it upside down.

"He's fast today," Dimitri says.

"He's into everything today," I correct, but I lean back into him. His hands rest on my hips and I feel him tense slightly. One of our favorite pastimes together is to watch Misha growing and learning new things. It's an amazing part of parenthood I'd never trade for anything.

"Have you thought more about what we discussed?" he asks. "The timing?"

I turn in his arms with a smirk and he looks at me with that expression I've come to recognize—hopeful, hungry, already planning. For weeks he's left parenting magazines open on the kitchen table, mentioned siblings for Misha, talked about a house full of noise. I know what he's thinking and I'm right on board. But I need more time to adjust.