41. Alexander

Chapter 41

Alexander

S ix Months Later

“I’m having second thoughts.” Natalya stands in the doorway to the nursery, an enormous frown on her face. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Tell me why you think that.”

She’s wearing a black dress that drapes down her body. When she turns sideways and pushes the fabric against her, it emphasizes her pregnant belly. She frames it with her hands, glaring at me. “Because you did this to me and I’m somehow expected to sit in front of the piano for forty minutes!”

I laugh and push myself to my feet. A parenting book topples onto the floor.

Despite how hard I try to let myself be myself, I’m still a fucking perfectionist, and I can’t handle going into something without being fully armed and fully prepared.

Which is why I’ve read maybe fifty of these god damn parenting manuals, even though they all give variations on the same advice.

“You look beautiful,” I say, approaching.

She waves her hands in the air at me. “Don’t start with that.”

“Start with what?”

“You have that look. We’re not having sex right now. People are going to be here soon.”

“We can have sex very quickly. I promise, you’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah, well, not this time.” She shoves me back with a glare. “I’m being serious right now, Alex. I’m not sure I can do this.”

I take her hand and lead her into the living room. Most of the furniture has been pushed aside and replaced by comfortable folding chairs. In the kitchen, the catering staff prepares lunch and passing trays with hors d’oerves and drinks.

I lead her to the piano. It’s right at the top of the room, the focal point of the day’s activities. The bench has extra padding on it to make her more comfortable, and she sighs as I help her sit down in front of the keys.

“You can do this,” I say, rubbing her shoulders lightly. “You know you’re good.”

“I’m fine ,” she says, lightly playing.

I love her music. I’ve tried to express to her how much her music means to me, but I don’t think she fully understands. When she plays, it’s like I can be the man I’ve always wanted to be. It’s like the world doesn’t matter anymore.

She’s got a gift.

“You’re more than fine and you know it. Pattie’s been pushing you to show off your songs for months now.”

“She’s being polite.”

“That woman doesn’t know how to be polite. Come on, this is fine. You know everyone coming.”

“I know, but?—“

“All you have to do is play. That’s it, right?”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “You’re right.”

I bend down and kiss her neck. She smiles and keeps on letting music flow from her fingertips. We stay like that for a few minutes, but the door opens and the first of the guests begins to arrive.

Ever since the truce with the Marinos, Natalya’s been spending a lot of time at Pattie’s shop. We’ve attended more makeshift concerts there than I like to admit, and Nat’s made a ton of really good friends in the little musical community Pattie’s built over the years. Now they’re here to listen to Nat’s music, the songs she’s been writing since Paris, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

Thirty or so people fill the space. There’s lot of talking and laughter. The vibes are very good. Pattie’s all over the place making sure people are having a nice afternoon, even though this whole concert was mostly my doing. She wanted to have it at the music shop, but I was insistent—if my wife’s going to debut her playing, she’s going to do it right here in our home.

When Natalya approaches the bench and the audience settles in, it’s like my wife transforms into another woman. All her worries, all her cares, it disappears.

She’s a master of her craft. She’s an artist finding joy. Her playing is liquid gold, it’s happiness, it’s joy, it’s melancholy and gorgeous, and forty minutes slip past like they’re nothing.

“Holy shit,” a young woman sitting on my left says to her partner. “That was good .”

The audience erupts in applause. Natalya’s flushed and beaming. I hurry up front to help her to her feet, but I melt away once she’s facing everyone.

This is her moment. Let her bask.

The rest of the day is spent eating, drinking, and mingling. Everyone gushes over Nat’s playing, and she seems like she’s having a great time. But eventually she gets tired, since she’s pregnant as all hell, and I manage to usher everyone out with Pattie’s assistance.

“That was amazing,” Pattie says, hugging and kissing Nat’s cheek. “Seriously, it was wonderful. We’ll have to get you to play more.”

“After the baby comes,” Nat says, resting her hands on her bump. “I don’t think I can handle another concert like this.”

“We’ll see. I doubt everyone can wait.” Another hug, another kiss, and then it’s only me, my wife, and the catering staff as they clean up the place.

I lead Nat back to the bedroom. She groans with obvious pleasure as I get her into bed, put her feet in my lap, and start to rub them.

“That went well,” she says, looking at me through heavy lidded eyes.

“It was perfect. You really have some decent friends, don’t you?”

“They’re good people.” She smiles and leans her head back.

And she’s right. Her new crowd is genuine, the total opposite of those Bratva hens she used to hang around with. The difference in her these days compared to the way she used to be is incredible.

“Can I tell you something?” She breathes in deep through her nose and blows it out through her mouth. “Maybe this is silly to admit, but for the first time in a really long time, I don’t feel alone. Before we got married, I had this hole in me, and I was just so lonely all the time. But that’s gone now. I just feel…” Her eyes flutter open and she looks at me. “I feel good. And I love you.”

“I love you too.” I lean forward and kiss her. “I’ll always be here. You know that. No matter how bad things get.”

“I know, and that’s why I feel this way.”

We stay like that for a while longer. I’m quiet as her breathing gets deeper and steadier, and I let her slump up against me when she falls asleep.

I don’t dare move—my pregnant wife needs a nap, and if I’m the pillow, then so be it.