Page 156 of Ruby Mercy

EPILOGUE: RAYNE

ONE YEAR LATER

Before my eyes even open, I stretch an arm out across the bed. Half asleep, I’m still searching for him, memories of last night coming back to me like flashes of a dream.

Kirill shirtless, carrying me into bed.

My legs hooked over his shoulders and his mouth on my skin.

The sound he made when we came together.

A warm sensation flutters low in my stomach. I don’t care what time it is—I’m ready for round two. But when I open my eyes, Kirill’s shirtless body isn’t next to me. The bed is empty.

“Kirill?” I sit up, squinting towards the dark bathroom. I smell his body wash, but the shower isn’t running.

I tip my head towards the door, listening for sounds of Yuliana up and at ‘em for the day. Nights like last night are certainly a highlight of having Kirill in our lives, but one of the biggest changes has been the fact that someone else can get up with Yuliana in the morning. I can actually sleep in from time to time.

Really, I’m the only one who gets to sleep in. Yuliana seems intent on having Kirill make up for the five years he missed. Every morning, she comes into our room, begging him to get up and eat breakfast with her.

“Come on, Daddy,” she says, tugging on his arm. “It’s morning time.”

He groans and grumbles, but we all know he loves it. The man cannot get enough time with his daughter.

I slide out of bed and pad across the floor. Per my request, Kirill had the tile floors in the bedrooms replaced with carpet to make them more homey. In exchange, I had to let him hang an obnoxiously large television on our living room wall. Apparently, “projectors don’t have the same image quality as a proper screen.” Considering how many nights we’ve spent piled on the couch, a mountain of candy between us, while we watch a movie, I have to admit I don’t mind the compromise.

“Hello?” I call as I move down the hallway. I forgot to put on my robe, so I’m wearing nothing but my silk pajama shorts and matching tank top. Kirill will lose it if I run into German wearing this again. He didn’t appreciate how much his best friend appreciated the sight last time. In typical German fashion, he was obnoxious about it for a week afterward.

“It would serve Kirill right,” I mutter under my breath. “That’s what he gets for leaving me alone in bed.”

“This big house is making you crazy. You’re talking to yourself.”

I spin around and see Lana sitting in the living room. She has a book open in her lap and a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

“Have you seen Kirill?”

“He’s outside with the kids.” She tips her head to the floor-to-ceiling windows. From the hallway, I can only see the ocean. But when I cut across the room and stand up close to the glass, I can see Kirill throwing a frisbee with Yuliana and her twin cousins, Lily and Brady, on the beach below. “That man is a keeper.”

“You think so?” I ask.

Of course I already know that, but it’s nice to hear Lana say so. I could tell she wasn’t so certain the first time she and the kids came to stay with us. Mostly because she thought I was crazy to move in with Kirill so soon after becoming an “official” couple. But Kirill has grown on her over the last year. He has a way of doing that.

She whistles. “He was awake even before I was. He made waffles from scratch and then took all the kids out to play so I could drink some coffee. The man is a saint.”

“I won’t argue with you.”

When I turn away from the window, Lana is smiling at me. I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “What?”

“What what?” she asks, all innocence.

I circle my finger in front of her face. “That. What is with this dopey smile you’re giving me?”

“Rude! What if that is just my face?”

“I know your face, Lana. You’re hiding something from me. What is it?”

She rolls her eyes. “I was just thinking that… I’m really proud of you.”

I groan in faux embarrassment even as her words send a warm wave of gratitude washing through me. “Oh God. It’s too early to get sappy, Lana. I don’t want to get emotional.”

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