29. Viviana

"Did you hit your head?" I ask. I run my fingers through his damp hair to check for myself. A few chips of ice cling to the ends, but there's no blood. No cartoonishly-large goose eggs that I can see. He looks perfect. So I gently remind him, "Mikhail, we're already married."

"That didn't count. It wasn't real."

"It's not real?" I pull back. "It wasn't…"

There was a priest. Rings. Vows.

Sure, the ceremony was thrown together at the last minute and I wanted the "‘til death do us part" chapter of things to happen much sooner than later, but it seemed real enough.

"Breathe." Mikhail grabs my arm, his thumb working a soothing circle along the inside of my wrist. "The piece of paper is real, but the feelings weren't. Not back then. Not the way they are now."

Oh.

He's watching me so closely I feel like he's inside my head. Like my thoughts are playing out on a Jumbotron for him to enjoy. Funnily enough, that doesn't scare me the way it used to. There's nothing in there I don't want him to see.

No doubts. No secrets.

He knows all of me… and he still wants to get married? Again?

I don't realize I've said that part out loud until Mikhail answers. "I don't want anyone to question who you are to me." He thumbs the column of my throat possessively. "Especially not you."

Mikhail's hand shifts to my cheek to dab away the tears that finally forced their way through my shock. He gives me a tentative smile. "Are these because you're happy?"

After the emotional Tilt-A-Whirl of the last few hours, I'm barely functioning. Self-awareness definitely isn't on the table.

"I d-don't know," I stammer. He frowns and I rush to correct myself. "I mean, yes! Yes. Of course I'm happy. I just don't know—I didn't see this—I don't have a dress."

He raises his eyebrows. "Is that your only argument against? Because, to be honest, I prefer you without one."

A wild laugh bursts out of me. "Are you telling me you like the way I look naked in the middle of our marriage proposal?"

"Only if it means you're going to accept." His calloused fingers slide down my hand to circle the gaudy ring I chose for myself a couple months earlier. He strokes the length of my finger and my God, I didn't know knuckles had so many nerve endings. "Though I'm definitely not above forcing the woman I love down the aisle again."

That's me. I'm that woman.

I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that.

I turn my hand in his, stroking my fingers over his rough palm. "Another forced wedding? You never learn, do you?"

"There's nothing to learn. I'm just finally admitting what I knew all along: I want you to be mine forever, Viviana."

Tears flood my vision at the tenderness in his voice. All I see is the blurry shape of him reaching for me and pulling me against his neck. I reach beneath the warm water and grab Dante's little hand. He's still sleeping, but he squeezes back. Like, even in his dreams, he knows it's me.

That's the way it's been with Mikhail. The moment I saw him, I felt it. Felt this.

We've been fumbling through the dark for years, always moving towards each other even when we had no idea why. Now, we're finally here, and I'm never letting him go again.

Anatoly and Raoul are at the cabin within the hour with a doctor in tow. Where they found a doctor willing to commute on short notice to the middle of nowhere for a cabin call is none of my business, I decide.

"I didn't have to put a gun to his head, if that's what you were going to ask," Anatoly whispers in my ear when they arrive. He pulls me into a tight hug that lifts my feet off the floor.

"I wasn't going to ask anything." Was I thinking it? Obviously. I'm not stupid.

"Tell that to your judgmental face." He kisses the top of my head. "It's good to see you."

Being in this little bubble with Dante and Mikhail has been a little slice of magic, but it's not a lie when I tell Anatoly I'm happy to see him, too.

I step back to let Raoul through the door, but he surprises me by wrapping his arms around me and squeezing tight.

"Anatoly didn't put a gun to his head," he repeats, his voice low. "I did."

It makes sense, then, why the doctor gives Raoul a very wide berth as he tromps through the door.

He's a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and even thicker glasses. He offers a tight smile. "I'm Dr. Price. Where's the patient?"

Dante has been bundled in the bottom bunk in his room since we took him out of the tub. He seems fine, just exhausted. I'd never be able to completely relax until a professional looked him over, though.

"You did everything right," Dr. Price tells us after a thorough examination.

I squeeze Mikhail's hand. "It was all Mikhail. He pulled Dante out of the water and did compressions."

"She gave him mouth-to-mouth," Mikhail adds.

"But I turned the water on hot when we got inside." I shake my head, still disappointed in myself that I didn't know better. "You're the one who turned it to the right temperature. If you hadn't been there, I would have burned him."

"Are we having a compliment battle?" Anatoly is leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "Someone tell me how pretty I am."

Mikhail rolls his eyes and presses his lips behind my ear. "It was a team effort. You did great, Viviana."

Dante leans around Dr. Price. "I think you're pretty, Uncle Nat."

Anatoly winks at him. "That's because you have impeccable taste, little man."

Dr. Price looks Dante over three times in total, assuring us each time that he is perfectly fine. His lungs sound clear and his body temperature is normal.

"He's young and resilient," he announces, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck. "I'm sure he'll bounce back."

"I'm sure he will. Especially since you're going to stay and monitor him tonight." Mikhail arches one brow in a silent challenge.

Given the fact the good doctor had a gun to his head no more than two hours ago, he isn't in much of an arguing mood.

"It never hurts to be thorough," he mutters, dropping his medical bag at the foot of the bed with a sigh.

It turns out abduction is hot when it's done in the name of protecting my child. Who would've guessed?

Dante drifts to sleep a few minutes later and Mikhail and I meet up with Anatoly and Raoul in the kitchen.

"I want one of you to sleep in the room with Dante," Mikhail orders. "I don't care which of you it is, but I don't want the doctor alone with him all night."

"I can do it," I offer.

Mikhail starts to answer, but Anatoly cuts in. "On your wedding night, Viv? Absolutely not."

"My wedding—Who told you?" I look from Mikhail to Anatoly. "It just happened an hour ago."

Anatoly bats his eyes at his brother. "Lover Boy over there just couldn't wait to share the news. He called and told me to bring a doctor and a priest."

"So you did hear me. I wasn't sure, since you didn't fucking listen. One out of two isn't a great showing." Mikhail wraps an arm around me. His hand is splayed across my hip and I lean back into him.

"We don't need a priest," I whisper. "It can be just the two of us. You and me."

He swoops his thumb along my hip bone, sending tremors through me. He saved our son's life and proposed to me in the same day. With the way I'm feeling, it might be best if a man of the cloth isn't around to judge.

Anatoly claps his hands together. "Well, you'll be happy to know?—"

"They really won't." Raoul drags a hand over his jaw and gives me a sympathetic grimace. "I swear, I tried to avoid this."

"You'll be happy to know," Anatoly repeats, a little louder to be heard over Raoul's shit-talking, "that after the last time you made me run around the city looking for a justice of the peace who made house calls, I decided to take matters into my own hands."

"What the hell does that mean?" Mikhail asks as Anatoly digs in his pocket for his phone.

He clicks on the screen and turns it towards us.

I squint, reading the bolded words on the webpage as virtual confetti falls down from the search bar. Oh, dang, you're ordained. I look at Anatoly over the phone. "That can't possibly be legit."

"I promise you that Vow or Never is a very legit business. I paid thirty dollars and my official certificate is coming in the mail within the next sixty days."

"No," Mikhail says, aghast.

"Unfortunately, yes. I would have it already, but my name was misspelled on the first one. Somewhere out there, Anthony Novikov is an ordained minister and has no idea."

"I meant, ‘No, there's no way in hell you're officiating my wedding.'"

Raoul claps a hand on Anatoly's shoulder. "I told you he'd hate it."

Anatoly shakes him off. "You expect too much, Mikky. Kidnapping a medical professional and a man of God in the same afternoon is too far. Luckily for you, I'm the next best thing."

"If you're the next best thing to a man of God, then God help us all." Mikhail pinches the bridge of his nose like there's a headache threatening to end his life.

Anatoly pockets his phone and presses his palms together. "You know I'm Team Mikiana. Or Vivail. Whichever you prefer. The point is, I'm on your side and I would never disrespect the sacred ceremony that will be your second shotgun wedding."

I tip my chin back until I can see the hard line of Mikhail's jaw and the amusement he can't quite hide dancing in his eyes. "I don't mind, if you don't. I just want to be married to you."

His hand flattens over my stomach and he pulls me tight against him. I feel his hard length against my back. "As long as we end the day joined forever, I don't care."

There's a double entendre there somewhere but I'm too busy staring up at him, breathless, to find it.

"Sooo…" Anatoly whistles awkwardly. "Am I suiting up, then?"

Mikhail releases me to grab the front of his older brother's shirt. "Don't fuck this up, Nat."

Anatoly just grins.