Page 102 of Fractured Empire

Still, if I’ve learned anything from my sisters, it’s that women like to feel beautiful, not just be told that they are beautiful. So waiting several hours for my wife to get ready to go out with me is nothing to complain about as far as I’m concerned. It’s not like I’m a child who can’t find some way to entertain myself whilst I stand by.

And as much as I think she looks gorgeous twenty-four seven, it’s nice to see her radiating with a confident glow, sitting across the private dining table from me. The candlelight between us only makes her more radiant.

“This is so fun,” she tells me giddily, flipping through the menu slowly.

“We’ve hardly done anything,” I counter, chuckling as I do the same. “We just got here, baby.”

“Ugh, I know.” She clicks her nails on the table, tapping like she’s bursting with excitement. “But it’s so nice, isn’t it? Getting dressed up and going out together? I feel floaty and gleeful like a kid on Christmas. Or more like, Mommy and Daddy going out on Christmas Eve.”

Mommy and Daddy.

Fucking hell.

Unlike when she first called the kids our boys, Katya doesn’t try to cover her comment like it’s a mistake. And it isn’t one.

“Well, we have more than just dinner to look forward to, unless you start missing the kids too much and want to go home.” Or if you get bored of me.

“How’d you know I would miss them?” she asks with a sweet purse of her lips. “I think if they weren’t with their papa who they love so much, I’d feel guilty for leaving them behind.”

“It’s a parent thing,” I reply honestly. “Anything you do for yourself makes you wonder if you’re selfish for enjoying time away from them. You’re not, by the way. It’s good for them to spend time with family outside of us, even if we’ll miss them.”

“Well, I plan on enjoying this date for as long as you’ll have me,” Katya says, lifting her chin confidently. “Spending time with you has never made me feel anything other than good, moja láska.”

“You said that last night,” I point out, catching the familiar but unrecognizable Slovak words. “What is it? Another nickname?”

She blushes and looks down at her menu. “Of sorts.”

I wait for her to clarify, and she doesn’t.

“I think I’m going to keep that one to myself for a little bit longer, if that’s all right with you…”

Interested but willing to wait, I nod.

“Keep your secrets, cuore mio, and I’ll keep mine.”

She gives me a wicked smile, dipping her head in agreement.

It takes me a minute to remember that I can’t keep my secret because she knows exactly what I just called her. My heart. Her speaking Italian is a blessing and a curse, since I can’t get away with calling her anything without her mentally translating it.

I should really try and pick up some Slovak to make it fair.

Chapter Forty-One

Katya

The restaurant Leon picked out is incredible. Not just the privacy, the atmosphere, and the cozy little table he reserved for us, but the food too. We both decided to indulge in several options for our main courses, sharing the most buttery lobster, perfectly cooked beef Wellington, lemon zest pasta with scallops, and a rich lamb and potatoes dish that Leon seemed to enjoy most.

Our conversation has mostly involved the children in one way or another, but we’ve delved deeper too. Childhood stories have been shared, and with a few questions bouncing between us, I feel like I’m slowly getting to know my husband more and more.

He hates swimming in the ocean because he was stung by a jellyfish both times he tried. He hates beets, clams, and grapefruit—a fact that came up after discussing how Leo and Bastian will eat just about anything while Leon and I have things we’d prefer to avoid. I’ve also learned that my husband was close with his mother before she passed. Well, before she ended her own life.

I don’t even remember how the topic came up, but Leon didn’t make it awkward or even too sad. He spoke frankly about the difficult time in his life, and made sure to warn me that many of his brothers didn’t have a good relationship with their mother. Alina was her name, and he made no excuses for her when he explained her strained ability to be a loving parent.

Matteo, his youngest brother, particularly dislikes speaking about her and refuses to call her his mother. Leon doesn’t begrudge him for it, and freely admits that he’s likely one of his only siblings that has positive memories of his mother. He was the only baby she had who looked like her, and whether that endeared him to her or if it was something else, he felt loved by the woman. He was lost when she took her own life, but eventually he came to accept that as well.

She had a fatal brain tumor, and she wanted to go out on her own terms, he reasoned. She went to every doctor she could find and there was no cure. She felt like she had no reason to keep living.

She had nine reasons to stay alive for every moment she could, I wanted to argue but didn’t. I have no idea how her tumor influenced her thinking, or how much pain she put up with. I can’t judge a woman I’ve never met, even if I believe I could never hurt Bastian and Leo the way her loss must have hurt the young Moretti boys.