Page 85 of Sexting the Silverfox

“Holy …” I freeze for a split second.

Slowly, my brothers and I turn around to find Grigori Fedorov standing before us.

“Quiet as a mouse,” Anton whispers.

We didn’t hear him approaching. Somehow, he got past the security detail that Anton posted at the chapel’s main entrance. We thought the old man had stayed in New York. It’s not like we forbade him from the wedding; he just never responded to any of our invites. He’s been too busy grouching over the whole takeover, so we figured he wanted to sulk alone in his room back at the Fedorov mansion.

Yet here he is, wearing a neatly tailored grey suit and a silver bowtie, his white hair combed and his skin glowing. He looks a lot better than the last time I saw him. Vitaly said he’d gone on a diet. It’s doing wonders for his skin and outward appearance; I can say that much for him.

“Papa, what are you doing here?” I ask with a trembling voice.

Part of me is terrified that he’s come to ruin my wedding day. I wouldn’t have put it past him. He can be so bitter and vindictive. But the look on his face speaks of something else—a warmth I haven’t seen in so many years; it feels downright foreign.

“Little zaika, I’ve been anything but a decent father to you, especially in recent years,” he says, constantly stealing wary glances at my brothers. “I wouldn’t know where to start with the apologies and making amends, but I figured you would like me to walk you down the aisle. It’s a father’s duty, after all.”

“Are you serious?” Anton gasps. That gets him another nudge and a shush from Vitaly. “Ow. Dude …”

“I am serious,” our father declares, keeping his chin up. “It is the least I can do now. I cannot change what I’ve said and done. I cannot take it back, and frankly, I think apologies and amends might be useless at this point, anyway. I do not expect you to want me in your life, nor will I insist on the matter,” he adds and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But your mother would never forgive me, even in the afterlife, if I don’t step up now and do the right thing.”

“Papa …” I manage, tears quick to fill my eyes. I’m conflicted, yet I cannot seem to find the words to send him away. Maybe I should. He has caused me so much trouble and so much pain. But he doesn’t expect me to forgive him. He knows that all too well.

I can see it in his eyes. The torment. The regret. I doubt he’ll ever utter a real apology. This is the closest he’ll ever get to one, and I would not be true to myself if I didn’t accept his token of peace. I’ve always dreamed of having my father at my wedding—a wedding with a husband of my choosing, that is. Not Grigori Fedorov’s.

“Will you let me walk you down the aisle, little zaika? It would be my privilege. You have chosen a great man as your husband, and I wish to honor you both.”

All I can do is nod slowly as Vitaly and Anton step aside. Papa offers me his arm. A smile tests my lips as I take it. For so long, I’ve wanted my father to see me, to really see me for who I am. I dare not dream too wild a dream here, but I’m starting to think my wish is finally coming true. Grigori Fedorov sees me as who I have always been. His daughter is an independent woman with dreams and ambitions of her own.

And he is ready to accept and cherish that.

“All right then,” I mutter. “Giving you the benefit of the doubt, Papa.”

“I will not disappoint.”

As Anton and Vitaly push the chapel doors open, the organ music pours into the lobby with “Here Comes the Bride.” As my father walks me down the aisle, as the guests rise and collectively gasp at the sight of him, the sight of us together, I know I’ve made the right choice. As Jason sees me coming, as the sun shines in his beautiful hazel eyes, glowing with love and raw emotion, I know we’re on to something wonderful here.

He gives my father a slight frown as Papa gives me away, but the old wolf doesn’t seem bothered in the least. He just responds with a curt nod and steps to the side as Jason takes my trembling hand in his, our hearts thudding like horses at a race.

“And so it begins,” he whispers.

The officiant opens the good book, flipping to his preferred page. Silence falls heavily around us, and all I can hear is the promise of a wonderful life ahead.

The End

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