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He missed it.
She’s so beautiful. Do babies ever come out this perfect? Mine did, and my heart is overflowing with joy at the sight of her beautiful little face.
“I love you,” I whisper to her as I hold her in my arms. She’s so tiny. So weightless. It’s mind-blowing to compare how light she feels now to the ungodly weight bearing down on me only moments ago. “I love you so much. You’re my sweet, beautiful baby girl. All mine.”
Melanie sips her coffee from the chair she’s pulled up next to my bed. I’m glad she’s close—the stitches they had to put in are preventing me from moving much. “She really is beautiful. Have you picked out a name?”
“We should wait for Pasha to get here.” Sofi is respectful, and I can tell she’s trying her best to be gentle. But she’s also very obviously protective of her brother. “It wouldn’t be right to name her without him.”
“He had plenty of time to choose a name. It’s not her fault he decided to spend his most recent time in silence and far away from us.”
Even I’m shocked by the way my tongue lashes out the words. Grief has, apparently, given way to anger.
Sofi sighs. “But he?—”
“Sofiya.” Asya rests a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Let our new mother name her child. He’ll deal with it later.”
“I understand, I do.” I reach out to squeeze Sofi’s hand. The last thing I want is to lose her, even temporarily, to some stupid squabble. “But I don’t want the first thing our daughter experiences to be waiting for a man to show up.”
That has Sofi deflating. She sighs and gives my hand a friendly little pump. “Yeah. Point made. Damn you, feminism.”
I clear my throat. The whole room gives me their rapt attention, especially the nurse with a pen poised above the birth certificate. “Tatyanna Melina Chekhov.”
The nurse blinks. “Um… how do you spell that?”
Asya kisses my forehead; Sofi squeals and does the same. Melanie stifles a sniffle, Jameson beams, and Mak leans over the nurse’s shoulder and spells the names out for her. He gives the certificate a thorough examination, then nods. “All set,” he announces.
For the hundredth time in the last half hour, I slump back against the pillows propping me up. I’m so tired. I’m so… overwhelmed.
“God,” I groan softly to myself. “Can I just…?”
“Of course.” Asya starts shooing everyone out of the room, medical staff included. Mel gives me another hug and kiss, and brushes her lips over Tatyanna’s brow.
“Love you,” she whispers. My heart squeezes. She’s going to be a wonderful aunt. “We’ll be right around the corner if you need anything.”
I nod. I know they will. Despite all the pain and heartache I’ve gone through in life, I’ve come to learn I can always depend on my people—my strange little family—to be right by my side no matter what.
I just thought Pasha would be the same.
Guess I was wrong.
Taty wriggles in my arms, her face scrunching into a threat of a cry. I tuck her swaddling blanket tighter around her and hold her even closer to my chest.
“Shhh, sweet baby. It’s okay. Mama’s here. I’m right here, and I’m never going to leave you.” I fight back tears of sorrow and force myself to focus on the joy. To focus on her. “You are my everything, little Taty. You will be strong and fierce and wonderfully wild, and I will always love you no matter what. I will always protect you.”
She settles back down and nestles into my warmth. I wish she could stay like this forever, small and sweetly cuddly.
For now, I can.
It’s the minutes and hours and years to come that have me worried.
2
PASHA
“Unless there’s anything else—such as, oh, I don’t know, actual evidence—my client and I will be taking our leave.”
Special Agent in Charge Aaron Smithson grinds his molars together and does his damned hardest not to turn three shades of purple. “We’re about to find the evidence any second now?—”
