Page 101 of Pregnant Virgin of the Bratva
“When you’re ready,” he says. “Not a day before.”
I smile at that. “You’d do it, though. In a heartbeat.”
“Of course I would.”
I watch Liliana shift in his arms, her mouth twitching toward a smile even in sleep.
“I think a sibling would be good for her,” I say. “One day.”
“Careful what you wish for, Esme. You know I’m not the type to do anything by halves.”
In the silence that follows, with our daughter breathing softly and the fire crackling low, the idea doesn’t feel overwhelming. It doesn’t feel far away.
It feels like a promise we’ll keep.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Kion
The house is quiet when I return.
Not silent—never silent, not anymore—but warm. Settled. The front door clicks shut behind me, muting the sound of distant rain tapping against the stone steps. I hang up my coat and loosen my tie, the soft hum of something familiar pulling me further in.
I follow it to the living room, and stop in the doorway.
Esme’s on the floor, her legs folded beneath her, loose strands of hair falling around her face. She’s laughing—shoulders shaking, head tilted back—and the sound roots me to the spot. In front of her, Liliana lies on her back, kicking her feet with wild delight, her hands wrapped tight around a stuffed gray bear with a bow around its neck. Her giggle cuts through the room like light.
She babbles something incoherent, squawking, then squealing with joy when Esme leans down and blows raspberries into her belly.
I don’t speak. Don’t move.
It hits me harder than anything I’ve felt in months.
The fire flickering low in the hearth. The blanket Esme’s half sitting on. The toy bear. The sound of my daughter’s laugh—mine—and the look on my wife’s face when she watches her.
It’s so painfully domestic I can hardly breathe.
I never thought this would be mine. If someone told the old me I’d end up here—tripping over stuffed bears, married to a woman whom I adore—I’d have called them crazy.
Esme catches sight of me a moment later. Her smile changes, softens. She tucks her hair behind her ear and lifts her chin.
“You’re home.”
I nod, still standing there like a man who’s lost the ability to cross a room. “Got back early. Traffic was better than expected.”
Liliana kicks again, the bear clutched tight in her chubby fists. I step forward and crouch beside them. She squeals, arms flailing when she sees me.
“Come here, love,” I murmur, lifting her easily into my arms.
She smells like powdered milk and Esme’s perfume. Like soft blankets and warmth. I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing her in.
I look down at Esme. Her smile hasn’t quite returned. There’s something faint around her mouth—just enough tension to make me pause. A flicker of something.
“Long day?” I ask, lowering myself to sit beside her.
“Not really,” she says, reaching to tug the blanket back into place. “She’s been like this all afternoon. Just… loud and happy.”
“Good.” I bounce Liliana gently, watching her latch on to the collar of my shirt with curious fingers.
Esme shifts slightly, leaning against the couch behind her. Her hand rests on my knee without thinking. I cover it with mine.
