Page 72 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
I do, even though my vision blurs and my lower lip trembles.
He lifts a hand and cups my face, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb.
“You’re going to be the best mother to our little girl, Nicole,” he says, voice low and steady and so full of certainty it roots me in place. “You’re going to love her so much she won’t know what it’s like not to feel it. You’ll kiss every scraped knee, and you’ll teach her everything that matters. You’ll be the heart of her world.”
More tears fall, and I can’t help the sob that slips out. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper.
“Neither do I,” he says, brushing his forehead against mine. “But we’re going to figure it out together.”
I throw my arms around his neck, and he holds me tightly, even with my belly slightly in the way.
When I finally pull back, he presses a kiss to my lips, then another to my stomach.
“I already love you so much, little one,” he murmurs against my skin. “Your papa’s got you. Always.”
The door clicks softly shut behind the ultrasound tech, leaving just the two of us in the dimly lit room. The monitor beside me still glows with the faint outline of our baby girl. Sergei’s hand is still wrapped tightly around mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he’s afraid to let go.
I turn to look at him, and the expression on his face is something I’ll never forget. He’s not just smiling, he’s lit from the inside, his eyes glassy with emotion.
“She’s perfect,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”
A soft laugh escapes me, half joy, half disbelief. “I can’t either. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes.”
He leans closer, his hand moving from mine to cup my cheek, warm and steady. “It’s real,” he says more calmly. “She’s real. And you’ve been incredible through all of this, Nic. I don’t think you even realize how strong you’ve been.”
I shake my head, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat. “I don’t feel strong, Sergei. Not all the time.”
“You are,” he insists. “After everything that’s happened, the way you’ve handled everything. You’ve been through hell and somehow you’ve managed to come out even stronger. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
I want to believe him. I want to hold onto that version of me, the one who didn’t fall apart when the world felt like it was crumbling. The one he sees when he looks at me.
I smile, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear shyly. “You know,” I murmur. “I’m really glad I texted the wrong number that night.”
He chuckles, deep and low, and it echoes around the quiet room. “So am I. That night changed everything. I never saw myself doing this,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “Not the kid thing. Not the relationship thing. I thought I was too far gone. Too wrapped up in this life to even consider something like a family.”
My chest tightens, and I squeeze his hand. “But you changed your mind?”
His gaze locks on mine, intense and unwavering. “You changed my mind. Before you, I didn’t think I needed anyone. I was content running my empire, keeping people in line, making sure no one stepped out of place. It was all I knew. And I was fine with it.”
He pauses, his thumb sweeping over my cheekbone.
“But then you came along, and suddenly everything I thought I knew didn’t matter anymore. I started thinking about mornings with you, about what it’d be like to come home and have someone waiting. Someone who isn’t afraid of who I am. I didn’t know how much I needed that until you gave it to me.”
My throat tightens, emotion catching me off guard. I reach up and place my hand over his, anchoring myself in his touch. “I promise I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.
His breath hitches slightly, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because one day, I’m going to make you my wife.”
I blink, stunned. The words settle between us like a spark waiting to ignite. “You are?”
“There’s no one else for me,” he says, his voice a promise. “Not in this life. Not in any life.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I don’t try to stop them. I just lean forward and kiss him, slow and deep, pouring everything I feel into that moment. Love. Gratitude. Relief. Hope.
When we finally pull back, he brushes a thumb over my bottom lip.
“I love you, Nicole.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, my heart swelling so full it might burst.
