Читать книгу Modern Romance October 2015 Books 1-4 - Эбби Грин, Annie West - Страница 22

EPILOGUE

LEO GOT HIS snowman after all—along with sleigh bells and fairy lights and the realisation that having a Russian father and an English mother meant he could actually celebrate two Christmases, instead of one. The first was spent in England, with Dimitri flying Erin’s parents in from Australia as a surprise and Tara closing down the café for a whole fortnight. Dimitri booked an entire floor of the Granchester Hotel for the festivities, which famously had the biggest tree in London—if you didn’t count the one in Trafalgar Square.

And somewhere amid all the excitement, they got married. They exchanged their vows and, for those heartfelt moments, felt like the only two people in the world. Outside, the ground glittered with frost and Erin wore a hooded white cashmere cloak over her long, silk dress. With Leo at her side as proud ring bearer, she carried camomile daisies—the national flower of Russia—mixed with white freesia, which were her mother’s favourites. Chico was invited but had flown back to Brazil to tell his parents he was gay and no longer intended to live a lie. Saladin was also invited but his favourite and most valuable horse was injured and he was at his wits’ end.

Their second Christmas of the year was spent in Russia, where the holiday was traditionally celebrated on January the seventh and nothing was eaten all day, until the first star had been seen in the sky, when a dish called kutia was taken from a shared bowl, to signify unity. And if once upon a time Leo would have turned his nose up at the thought of walnut-and-fruit-studded porridge, he dug into the dish with enthusiasm as the three of them ate their meal together. Erin remembered staring at her son in amazement, and thinking how much he’d changed.

How much they’d all changed.

Leo had blossomed beneath the warm glow of his father’s love—a love which Dimitri had confessed he wasn’t sure he’d be able to show, just as he wasn’t sure if he was capable of being a good father. Erin guessed that wasn’t surprising, because if you’d never been properly fathered when you were a little boy, then how would you know how it worked? But Dimitri had worked it out. Of course he had. Her cold, proud Russian had melted—morphing into a man with so much love to give that it made her heart sing just to think about it.

She’d changed, too. The dark fears and insecurities which had nudged the corners of her soul were now a thing of the past. She recognised that it was more than Dimitri’s love which had helped her to accomplish that. It was finding her own inner strength and conviction. She’d been strong enough to tell him that she wouldn’t settle for second best. To show him that she could and would live independently, even if that was the harder option. Sometimes you needed to be prepared to walk away from the thing you most wanted, in order to get it to come to you.

She lay back against the sofa while the fire crackled and waited while Dimitri read Leo a bedtime story. He would be down in a minute and tomorrow they were taking him and Anatoly sleighing. And after that they would probably build yet another snowman.

She sighed.

‘Such a very big sigh,’ Dimitri observed softly as he walked into the room and the light from the crackling fire turned his hair red-gold.

‘A happy sigh.’

‘Oh?’

She looked up at him as he joined her on the sofa, his arm sliding around her back, and automatically she snuggled up to him. ‘I was just thinking how lucky I am. Lucky to have met you and had your baby. Lucky to be with you now.’

He looked down at her very intently as he brushed the hair away from her face. ‘And all the in-between years? The wasted years?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not that. I’ve been thinking about that and they definitely weren’t wasted. They were learning years. Growing years—and growing is always painful. Unless of course you happen to be a bonsai tree, in which case you don’t even get the chance!’

He smiled. ‘Any ideas what you’d like to do tonight?’

‘Surprise me.’

His smile deepened as he cupped her face in his hands and moved his own close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.

‘I’m going to pour you a glass of champagne and tell you how much I love you, before thrashing you at P’yanitsa.’

‘A busy schedule,’ she observed.

‘Very busy,’ he agreed as his lips brushed over hers. ‘And after that...’

‘After that...what?’ she questioned breathlessly as his fingertips brushed over her breast.

‘On second thoughts,’ he said roughly, ‘maybe the P’yanitsa can wait...’

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