Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Ollie

" This one." Renata stands on the front stoop of the seventh home we've looked at in as many days. Nestled in a tree-lined neighborhood thirty minutes from The Cove, it feels like a private oasis. Set back from the road, shadowed behind imposing pines, it's secluded and homey, and I knew before she claimed it by the look in her eyes that we've found our forever home. Some people buy their first home just to move to the next bigger option later, but we want to settle. Put down roots. Grow a family.

"Yeah, baby," I say softly, surprised to find my voice husky with emotion. It's nothing extravagant like the homes I grew up in, the ones our realtor took us to, but it's homey. Comfortable.

"I can see us here," she says, gesturing at the woods. "Running around on the grass with our kids. Maybe we'll have a little… swing set or something. I don't know. But it's just so?—"

"Peaceful," we both say at the same time. Wordlessly, we walk up to the porch, the floorboards creaking under our feet. The air is tinged with the scent of pine and cut grass. A gentle wind brushes her hair against my arm as I hold her to me. A bird tweets in the distance.

And what we don't have to say out loud is that it's such a dark contrast to the turbulence we left behind, it feels right.

"I'm going to ask you to do something, Ollie, and I want you to think about it." Her chestnut eyes bore into mine. She's so cute when she thinks she can intimidate me. "Don't just snap off an answer without thinking like you usually do."

I shove my hands in my pockets and can't help but smile.

"I don't snap off answers, you know that."

"I mean," she says, wagging her finger at me while shaking her head. "You are a very determined man, but you happened to be married to a very determined woman."

Jesus, don't I know it.

She goes on, her voice tremulous. "And I want to… I want to buy this house with my money. For a couple of reasons." I'm surprised, but I don't interrupt. I listen. I owe this to her, and the truth is, I don't care if she spends her money or mine. It's all ours, anyway. We're one now, a unit. A family. But this matters to her, so I listen.

"I don't want that money sitting around. I want to put it into a house and I don't want a mortgage. I want to know that I, Renata Romanova, purchased this house with my own money." Her chin thrusts out and she holds my gaze. "That nobody can take it from me."

She's come so far, such a long way, confident and independent now. I know this means a lot to her. This isn't just a house in a peaceful neighborhood, it's more than a place to live. It's a declaration of who she's become, of what we've fought for. She's forged her way past a life of instability where peace was fleeting. No one can take this from her. Not now, not ever, and I'll fight for this peace for her until the day I draw my last breath.

"Of course you can," I say with a shrug. "Doesn't matter to me, Renata. Everything I have is yours. Everything ."

And I do mean everything. I reach for her and she fits in my arms, nestled in as if we were carved from one piece, and now we've finally, finally made our way back to each other.

We fought hard for this. We'll fight harder still.

I kiss her forehead as the click of the realtor's high heels sounds across the porch. "Two acres of land and a reservation in the back, there's even a little creek where people even fish," she says. She pulls out a pair of reading glasses and continues to read down a list. She goes on and on about hot water and utilities, the local schools, the square footage, the exterior a blend of modern and classic blah blah blah, but I barely hear her. My woman's pleased as fuck and that's all that matters.

"This place is not far from the city," she continues, "but just enough away that people have to come a ways to visit you," she adds with a wink. Thirty minutes away from my parents, my brothers, and their families. It's just enough. Because we need something of our own.

"The kitchen may need some renovation," she begins with a little frown. "You may be able to negotiate the?—"

"We'll take it," Renata says. The realtor, who worked with my family before, looks to me for approval. She quirks a brow.

"Mr. Romanov?"

"Why are you asking me? Do as my wife tells you," I say, my voice carrying a note of threat. She will not question Renata.

"Of course," she says with a smile, turning to face Renata. "Would you like to negotiate the price down for kitchen renovations?"

Renata shrugs. "No. I like the way it is. That kitchen island can function as a breakfast table, and I love that view of the garden outside the dining area." She turns to me. "Do you agree?"

I shrug. "I need a place to make a pot of coffee and a burner to scramble some eggs, and some place to put my protein shakes. The question is, are you happy?"

My brothers would rib me mercilessly but I don't fucking care. I know what my life's goal is, what my purpose is, and she's standing right in front of me with stars in her eyes.

"Excellent. You're a woman who knows her mind." She smiles broadly at Renata, who flushes a little. Of course she is. I squeeze her hand, and when the realtor goes inside to put in a formal offer, Renata claps her hands like a little girl and bounces on the balls of her feet. As I look at her, I can't help but think about the chaos we escaped, the dangers we faced. This moment is worth every goddamn battle I ever fought. I nestle my face in her hair and inhale, breathing in the familiar, grounding scent.

"Oh, Ollie," she says. She doesn't say more than that, but she doesn't have to. Just those two words. Oh, Ollie . They hold a world of meaning in them.

We're together. We're safe. We're doing this, the two of us, forging our way through hellfire to make a place of our own. We're going to raise a family. We're going to stay connected to mine, branch out, and make one of our own.

We celebrate dinner at a steakhouse in town. I watch approvingly as Renata tears into a 20 oz. T-bone steak with a side of caramelized onions, a baked potato the size of King Arthur, and shoves her green beans aside. "Those are not my favorite," she says. I reach out to her and squeeze her hand. I run my thumb along her knuckles.

"What is your favorite?"

"You, of course," she says with a smile.

"Oh, that's not cheesy at all."

"As if I give a fuck about cheesy," she says with a grin. She sobers, chewing her food thoughtfully. Swallowing her bite, she chases it with a gulp of wine before she asks her question. "Ollie, has there been any word from the cartel? Have you heard anything from Colombia?"

I shake my head. "No. It seems as if things are at peace for now." For now. Isabella and Lev have their men combing every inch of the city, and they have taken great risks to make sure that there's no blowback.

"Thank God."

"It's quiet for now, Renata," I say. I don't want to break the spell. I don't want to be negative. As much as I want to believe that the peace we found is real and lasting, I can't shake the feeling that danger still lurks. Maybe it's all I've experienced haunting me. Maybe it's legitimate, I don't know. But I do know the La Sombra Roja cartel may be quiet for now, but they're not gone. I glance at Renata and push the thought away.

For now, I have to live in this moment. For her. For us.

"I know," she says quietly. "There is no lasting peace, is there?"

I shake my head. "It just means that we live in the moment, that we appreciate everything we have now. Everything we worked for. Everything we earned. Everything we felt. We appreciate this. We take nothing for granted."

I can see it, just like she can—the laughter echoing across that yard, scooters and bikes askew by the drive. Lazy afternoons spent by the creek, teaching our kids how to fish or climb trees. I want that. We both do. But it's still foreign to me to think about a future that's not just survival.

"I like that. Take nothing for granted. Maybe that's what all that bullshit about living in the moment actually means. Maybe we already have everything we need, right here."

"Polina's safety?" she asks, liberally buttering a roll.

"She'll be married," I say simply.

"Does Mikhail have plans for that yet?"

"No, he wants to give us time to see what La Sombra Roja next move is first."

For one second, I'm pulled back to the smell of gunpowder thick in the air, Renata's hand in mine. I don't know if I'll ever forget the fear in her eyes. I don't want to. Seeing her here, full of hope and joy, I renew my conviction to keep her safe, to never give her reason to cling to me with fear ever again.

"So we're not out of danger, but maybe it won't be… It won't be terrible," she says hopefully.

I grin at her and she smiles back. Hope mixed with realism, and just a touch of rose-colored glasses. I like that, though.

"Dessert? Cordial?" the waitress asks.

Renata winks at me. "This one's on me," she says magnanimously, spreading her hands across the table. "Order anything you want. The cake? An after-dinner cordial?"

I shake my head. "I let you buy the house. This is on me."

The waitress's eyes go wide. I don't give a shit.

"Can you wrap this up, please?" Renata says sweetly, pushing her plate toward the waitress. She ate less than half of it.

The waitress leaves with her leftovers when it dawns on me. "Wait a minute. Don't tell me you're planning on feeding your steak to the dog," I say with a groan. "You got the biggest steak on the menu only to bring it back home to him, didn't you? Renata ."

"King Arthur is a good boy," she says in a little singsong voice. "Potty trained now and so obedient. Of course I'm giving this to him." Her eyes flash with a hint of flirtation. "And don't you try to stop me, Ollie. Do you think I missed that bag of doggie treats on the front porch? I didn't buy those."

"Whatever." I grunt. "They had a buy-one-get-one-free sale."

"Admit it. That playful, sweet pup has stolen your heart."

"Sure. He is a good boy."

Renata can't set foot out of our bed or head to the bathroom without him obediently following by her side. He growls and barks when people knock at the door until we tell him to heel. When she walks out to get the mail, he is glued to her side. He is a good boy.

"I like to see you with him," she says softly. "Laugh all you want, but it shows me that you'll be a good daddy ."

"I guess, I mean if you think about it—" and then I realize her eyes are twinkling mischievously at me.

Did she say daddy? Did she mean that the way I thought she did? "Renata. Is there something you need to tell me?"

My heart breaks a little as I watch her. She's too beautiful for words. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, her eyes bright as starlight. She smiles as the waitress brings a huge piece of chocolate cake to our table.

"What do you think?" she says, grinning at me. Then she turns to the waitress. "Maybe you should make that two pieces of cake. One for him… and one for me and the baby."

THE END