EPILOGUE: In Which She Extends an Olive Tree (2/2)

“Looking lovely as always, Aunt O,” a teasing voice came from the doorway, and if I hadn’t been too weak, I would’ve rolled my eyes at the speaker.

Mikhail marched inside with a huge bouquet of calla lilies in one hand and Inga’s hand in the other.

“Are you kidding me? I look like sh- Crap.” I slid my eyes to Sonya. “I look like crap.”

Rory shot me a dark look. “We talked about this. G-rated language from now on, Mum,” she rebuked in hushed tones, allowing herself to be flanked by Mikhail and Inga.

“These two have to be the biggest potty-mouthed parents I’ve ever met,” Calvin quipped, striding into the room with his flavour-of-the-month, a tiny blonde called Ava. “And this is with Devin and Aurora Shaw walking around.”

“Oh, fudge off,” Nikolai grunted from behind me.

“Exactly what he said,” muttered my father.

I tilted my head to accept a quick peck on the cheek from my brother, who abruptly left my side for the baby, leaving his girlfriend to stand awkwardly to one side. It wasn’t going to last with this one – it never did – but judging from the way Ava wore her heart in her eyeballs, it was easy to see how much she cared about my brother. Calvin was nineteen now and was probably too young to have been in love, which was why I decided that I was rooting for this lovesick Ava. She obviously loved him.

I sighed heavily, briefly closing my eyes and listening to the hushed chatter of my relatives brought together by one – now that I thought about how Sonya was conceived – indecent act on a balcony. Savita was back in Miami with her son, James, who turned out to be Ryan’s. My best friend had mellowed down after James’ birth and the subsequent end of her marriage. Turned out that Ryan’s realisation that he could’ve easily caught – and transmitted – an STD was enough to kick his high school sweetheart to the kerb without so much as a backward glance. I hadn’t seen Sav since James’ birth and I missed her way too freaking much for it to be legal.

It took me a while to realise that I had unceremoniously dozed off. The distinct smell of fried chicken woke me up, as did the awareness of the almost silent room. Everyone had left, save for Nikolai, who was pacing the room with a gurgling Sonya in his arms. His low voice was inaudible but I knew he was drilling Ruslavian into our daughter’s head.

“I could eat you,” I said in a hoarse voice, rubbing my rumbling stomach. The food was on the bedside table and I reached down for it, devouring it in three minutes flat. Being in labour for twelve hours was tiring business.

But it was absolutely worth it, if the end result was my princess, Sonya.

“Look, docha,” Nikolai said softly, walking over to my side. “Mommy’s awake now. Isn’t she spectacular?”

“Spectacular?” I snorted. “Spectacularly huge, you mean.”

Nikolai’s piercing blue eyes glittered. “And that only means more delicious curves for me to…navigate.”

I laughed. “Hope you have Sat-Nav, then.”

“Oh, but my tongue has a better sense of direction, kitten,” he lustily retorted.

I groaned, leaning back into the mass of pillows behind me. “Our daughter’s first word will be cunnilingus if we’re not careful.”

A knock resounded at the door, cutting Nikolai’s laughter short.

“Enter,” he called out, and Asya bounded inside.

“It’s a girl, right? How did you know it would be a girl?” she screeched, hopping onto the bed beside me and swinging her leather-booted feet over the edge. “Can I hold her, Kolya? Ophelia? Please? I promise I won’t drop her!”

“Calm down, angel face,” Nikolai told his little cousin, suddenly looking as tired as I felt. Probably because he’d been right there with me through every push and curse and sob.

“Of course you can hold her,” I insisted, unable to hide the smile that crept onto my face at the sight of my husband helping Asya hold Sonya properly. I hated to admit it, but Nikolai probably had more experience with kids than I did.

“Oh, she’s so tiny,” Asya remarked, staring down at Sonya. “Hello, I’m Asya. Your mama and papa named you after my aunt. They already knew you were going to be a girl. It’s like magic, Sonya.”

Rory poked her head inside. “Let’s go get some hot chocolate, Asya sweetheart.”

Nikolai retrieved the baby and Asya hopped off the bed, promising to babysit and or help me lose the baby weight at the playground.

“She’s something else,” I murmured when she was gone.

“Indeed,” was Nikolai’s husky response.

“Uh-oh. I recognise that look. It’s the same one that brought Sonya into this world,” I whispered, my throat dry. I stared up at him as he approached me and sat down.

“Kiss me, Ophelia. My hands are busy.”

So I did. Leaned into him, cupped his face and gave him my mouth. Ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open for me; for my tongue. And then, like we always did, the kissing became tongue-fucking.

Realising that she was being neglected, Sonya gurgled between us, flailing her little fists against my chest. That brought on another spell of Nikolai and me looking at her with twin gazes of adoration.

“I’m going to call her,” I said quietly, unable to resist the urge to stroke my daughter’s thick mop of hair.

Nikolai didn’t have to ask who the “her” in question was. We had discussed this during the course of my pregnancy. During the times I’d worried that I wasn’t mother material. During the times I’d worried about my vocation – running the various NGOs Nikolai and I had set up in his country – being put on the backburner to raise a baby. During the times I’d worried about ending up as awful as her…

“You know I’m behind you one-hundred percent, baby,” Nikolai softly intoned, rocking Sonya in his arms as she continued to burble.

“I know you are, Panty Dropper. I know.” I sucked in air. “I need a phone. Quickly, before I change my mind.”

He chuckled. “The old, by-the-book Ophelia would never have chickened out. She had balls, that one.” He dug into his pockets with his free hand.

I winked at him. “I had your balls. I still do.”

He sighed heavily, handing me his BlackBerry. “When will you give them back?”

“Never.”

“Good.” He dipped his head and pecked our daughter on her button nose. “You own what’s in my chest and what’s in my boxers. I wouldn’t have it any other way, pussycat.”

I smiled at him, drinking in his dishevelled clothing and animated features. This man – this prince – had given me excitement, love and a child I knew I would gladly lay my life down for.

He gave me courage.

With shaky hands, I dialled the number I had memorised a long while ago, sighing heavily when the person on the other end eventually picked up.

“Natalya?” I began, meeting Nikolai’s encouraging gaze. “It’s me. Ophelia.”

***

A/N: Thank you for supporting this novella! I am immensely glad that you enjoyed Nikolai and Ophelia’s story. For the record, there won’t be a story about Calvin, but rest assured, every Shaw has a happy ending at some point ;) Now that this book is done, I will (hopefully) have more time to focus on either reworking/continuing SSSSD. Thank you for reading! xo – kim