"I'm both," I tell her. "I'll always be both. The Pakhan and the man who loves you. Those things aren't separate anymore. You made them whole."
Another contraction hits, harder than the others. Lena makes a sound that's almost a scream, and the doctor snaps on fresh gloves.
"It's time," he says. "Lena, when the next contraction comes, I need you to push."
Everything happens fast after that. Lena pushing and me holding her hand and murmuring encouragement. Mary slips in, taking position on Lena's other side.
"You can do this, sweetheart," Mary says. "You're so strong."
"I can't," Lena gasps.
"You can." I lean close, my forehead against hers. "You're the strongest person I know. You survived me. You can survive this."
She chokes out a laugh then frowns at me for making her laugh while she's trying to give birth, and I grin back.
"Push," the doctor says. "Big push now."
Lena bears down, her face going red with effort. I feel her nails digging into my hand, probably drawing blood, but I don't care.
"I see the head," the doctor announces. "One more big push, Lena. You're almost there."
"I forgive you," Lena gasps out between contractions.
"Lena—"
Suddenly, there's a sound that makes my heart stop.
A baby crying.
"It's a boy," the doctor says, placing something small and red and screaming on Lena's chest. "A healthy baby boy."
53
LENA
The June afternoon is so perfect, it feels like someone ordered it from a catalog. White roses climb every trellis in the estate gardens, their petals catching sunlight like they're made of silk. The string quartet plays something classical and beautiful that I don't know the name of, but it makes my chest feel tight in the best way.
I stand at the edge of the aisle with my father, his hand trembling slightly on my arm.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," he says, his voice thick.
"Don't make me cry before I even get down there." I squeeze his hand. "Mom will kill us both."
He laughs, and some of the tension eases from his shoulders. He's gained weight since moving into the estate, a healthy color returning to his face. Mom fusses over him constantly, and he pretends to be annoyed, but I catch him smiling when she's not looking.
The music shifts, and everyone stands.
My heart does this stupid fluttering thing when I see Aleksandr at the end of the aisle. He's in a black suit, his dark hair swept back, and those gold eyes locked on me like I'm the only person in the world. The intensity of his gaze sends heat pooling low in my belly even as it warms my heart.
God, I'm going to marry this man.
This beautiful, dangerous, complicated man who once forgot his own name but never forgot how to make me feel like I'm everything.
Danil stands beside him as best man, grinning so broadly, I can see it from here. On my side, Ronnie shifts uncomfortably in his tuxedo, looking embarrassed but proud.
My father walks me down the aisle, and I try to focus on not tripping over my dress. Mom helped me choose it. Elegant and simple, she'd said, because anything too elaborate would overwhelm my frame. The fabric whispers against my legs with each step.
In the front row, Mom holds Nikolai, our three-month-old son. He has Aleksandr's gold eyes and my blonde hair, and right now, he's gnawing on his fist, drool everywhere. Mary catches me looking and grins, bouncing him gently.