Page 40 of Sinful Bride

Then: “I’ll grab your overnight bag,” Jameson mutters from an increasing distance.

“This means a lot to me,” I say. It’s an awkward phrase coming out of my mouth, probably because I’ve never said it in my whole fucking life.

But it’s true, I realize as the words leave my lips. I’ve never relied on anyone before. Now, it feels as natural as breathing to ask for help.

Who the hell am I becoming?

… And why don’t I hate it?

“Also,” I add, clearing my throat, “we’ll need you here for the wedding. You, too, Jameson.”

More silence. This one is very audibly filled with shock.

“‘The wedding’?!” Melanie’s voice squeaks with excitement. “Oh my God! We can clear our schedule for that. You guys are getting married?”

“And Tatyanna’s getting baptized two weeks after that. I’ll send you all the scheduling details and have Daphne fill you in on the rest when you get here.” I pause. I’m used to giving orders and expecting people to just do them. I’m not so used to having to ask, or show gratitude for it. “Thanks, Mel. I appreciate your help. I… I appreciate you both.”

“We’ll always be here, Pasha. For Daph and Taty and now you. You’re family. This is what we do for family.”

I was not expecting this.

This feeling.

This… warmth.

Goddammit, Chekhov. Pull yourself together.

“Yeah, well… thank you.” I clear my throat.

“I see the way you treat my sister. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. She might be a stubborn mule and completely blind to how much you love her at times, but she’s never been truly loved before. She doesn’t know what that’s like. Well, besides me.”

Somewhere in the background, Jameson returns with her bag and asks a few questions.

“I’ll let you go,” I rumble. “I sent a text to my pilot already. He should be there soon.”

“Got it.” Melanie’s voice brightens. “I like you, Chekhov. My sister could do far worse. Don’t give her reason to, and we won’t have any problems. Give her the world, and I’ll be the best sister-in-law you could ever ask for.”

16

DAPHNE

When I open my eyes, it’s not Pasha I see smiling back at me.

It’s… Melanie?

“Hey, sleepyhead.” She pokes me in the ribs.

“Mel?” I frown and blink a few more times. I must be dreaming. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Visiting you, duh. And playing with my niece.” She giggles and wiggles her fingers, which is when I notice a very calm, happy Taty lying in bed between us. Melanie blows raspberries and tickles Taty’s tummy. “How ya feelin’?”

“Confused.” I sigh and slump back into my pillow. “And also drained. And exhausted.”

“I hear ya. I couldn’t get enough sleep when Maxi and Gentry were born. Felt like I’d sleep for days and I was still so tired.”

“Did you feel like a complete failure?”

Her smile fades a little. “Sometimes.” She looks at me. “But I never once thought either of my babies hated me.”

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