Page 181 of Dirty Grovel

She raises her eyebrows. “Uh… I get my health benefits back at work?”

Snorting, I place a kiss on her cheek before nuzzling her ear. “You’re no princess any longer. You’re officially the queen.”

EPILOGUE: SUTTON

Two weeks after our surprise wedding, our daughter decides to make her grand entrance.

She’s almost a month ahead of schedule.

I was puttering around the garden, ignoring Oleg’s pleas to rest and take it easy, when my water broke.

I had to suffer a barrage of “I told you so’s” as he drove me to the hospital with Sydney holding my hand in the backseat.

Now, I’m strapped to a bed, my cervix is on fire, and Oleg has finally stopped yelling at me about the third trimester gardening.

In fact, I’ve never seen my beastly husband look soscared.

He’s pale as chalk. His lips are chapped and dry and there seems to be a permanent crease in his forehead.

I would love to be able to comfort him, but every time I try, my stomach explodes with pain.

“Dear God, if this is what childbirth is like, why do women have babies?” I scream, sweat dripping down the sides of my face.

“Because at the end of it, you get a beautiful little angel,” Oksana answers, sweeping into the room in a rose-colored dress.

She’s also carrying a bouquet of flowers. Yellow elders, of course, because she knows I’m partial to them.

I’ve got to hand it to her—she’s really been trying the last few months. I get gifts on the daily with thoughtful notes in her flawless handwriting. Diamond necklaces, state-of-the-art breast bumps, a stroller lined with cashmere…

It’s a lot, but you won’t catch me complaining.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Oksana asks, turning to me.

Her red dress actually hurts my eyes.

Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s more than twice my age and she looks poised and put together, whereas I feel like a bloated cow who’s about to explode.

Not exactly the boost of confidence you need right before you push a human being out of your pelvis.

“Geez,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “Your waist istiny. It’s plain rude walking in here like that.”

Sydney, who’s massaging my back, hides her laugh behind a fake cough that turns into a real one. Faye and Mara make hasty excuses and scurry out of the hospital suite. Only Oleg manages to keep a straight face.

“Moya zhena, you’re about to have a baby.”

“And whose fault is that?!” I snap.

He smiles. “I’ll happily claim responsibility,” he says before turning to his mother. “Maman, maybe you can get Sutton some ice chips?”

Oksana nods. “I’ll be right back.”

“Your mother hates me,” I groan when she’s gone, buckling forward to try to stave off another contraction. “That’s the only reason she would show up here looking like that while I… look like this.”

Oleg smiles patiently. “The renovations on the daycare are looking spectacular by the way. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” I accuse.

Chuckling, Oleg tries to kiss the top of my head.

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