EPILOGUE.

EPILOGUE.

7 months later.

Andrei’s cry echoes through the house.

Groaning, I throw my leg from the bed, trying to gather the strength to get up.

Nikolai takes hold of my hip and pulls me back onto the bed. “Stay, baby. I’ve got this.”

“You’re the best,” I mumble. I feel the mattress dip as he gets up.

Prying my eyes open, I watch as he turns on the nightlamp we got for the cradle. Reaching inside, he gently picks up our baby, then cradles him against his chest. “Is my boy hungry?” He lays Andrei down on the bed and checks his diaper. “Yes, definitely hungry,”

I pull myself up against the pillows, then Nikolai lays Andrei, who’s got a red line running down his forehead from all the crying, in my arms. While our son latches on, Nikolai leaves the bedroom.

I blink a couple of times to rid my eyes of the scratchy sensation, then stare down at Andrei eagerly sucking me dry.

Just as the thirst hits, Nikolai comes back with a bottle of water. He uncaps it and hands it to me.

Only after I’ve