It isn’t until he pulls away and brushes a thumb under my eye that I realize I’m crying.
“I love you, Andy, but it’s going to take some time.”
He nods, not upset in the least. Instead, he gestures to the bags of lemons at our feet. “Want to make lemonade?”
“And lemon bars, and lemon pie, and candied lemon peels,” I rattle off, bending to pick up one of the bags.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he laughs, grabbing the rest.
“That’s a lot of lemons.”
He gestures for me to go ahead of him toward the house. “Yes, well, life gives you lemons, sometimes. I guess it helps to have someone who can show you what to do with them.”
I look over my shoulder and catch him staring at my ass, which I’m sure is dirty from sitting on the ground. “Have you tried tea with lemon?”
He makes a face like he’s going to throw up. “Sorry, you’re going to have to drink coffee.”
“Well, then you’re going to have to get rid of Milo.”
Pretending to be aghast, he gasps. “Never.”
I smile as I step inside the house, glad to have my friend back. Andrej was the brutal king of his fortified castle, and my love was the ocean, tearing it apart. And now that we’re down to the foundation, it’s time to start building again.
Epilogue
Andrej
My daughter looks over at me from her perch among the lowest branches of the lemon tree, her dark blue eyes shining with mischief. I lower my book and narrow my eyes at her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says in her tiny, sing-song voice that melts my heart.
I study her in the light pouring through the conservatory windows. With every year that passes, she looks more and more like my own mother with her yellow-gold hair and petite features. She’s even named after her—Hana Valerie Novak. But she is definitely her own person. She’s kind and forgiving like her mother, but a little stubborn, like me. I never thought I could love someone like I love Valya, but Hana damn near takes the cake.
It took Valya two years to decide she would marry me. It was a cold January morning. We were living together already, here on the estate. I came down for my morning coffee and found her sitting right here in the conservatory, warming her hands on her mug of tea. As I leaned down to kiss her, the morning sun glinted off the purple stone on her finger.
“Really?” I’d asked, leaning over her.
Her smile was brighter than the sun when she said, “Really.”
A year later, we were married right here in our backyard, and a year after that, we welcomed Hana into the world. She’s four now, a bundle of endless love and energy. She’s still looking at me sideways, so I put my book down.
“What do you have in your pockets?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” she sing-songs again.
“Hana,” I warn.
Giggling, she leaps from the tree, the pockets on her pants bulging. I reach for her, but she dodges my hand and runs on stubby legs into the house. I give chase as she darts through the kitchen and into the foyer. Her little body hits the recently waxed floor and she pitches forward, sliding like a baseball player going for a homerun.
Before I can react, she collides with the base of the podium that holds the bust of my ancestor, Miloslav Novak. The bust teeters perilously. I swoop in, snatching Hana’s arm and scooping her up just as the bust falls and shatters into a million tiny pieces.
If I had ever broken that thing, my dad would have beat my ass. But when Hana turns her wide blue eyes on me, there’s no fear in them. Just blind trust. She knows I won’t hurt her.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to.”
I hold her to me, my heart pounding. “I know. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
There’s a gasp from the other side of the foyer, and I look up to see my wife on the stairs. Even through the rush of adrenaline, I can appreciate how magnificent she is. Her hair is shorter now, and she’s wearing that horrible Valor Cleaning Services polo shirt, but I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as she is.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Hana killed Milo,” I say solemnly.
After a beat of silence, Valya woops with joy, claps her hands, and shouts, “That’s my girl!”
I cross the foyer, trying to avoid any dust from the fallen statue, and deposit Hana on the stairs with her mother. “Why were you running from me?” I ask her.
With a sheepish look, she reaches into her pockets and pulls out two lemons. They’re bruised from her fall, and one is leaking juice over her little hands.
“Why were you stealing lemons?” Valya asks.
“For your tea. I heard you getting sick this morning, and tea always makes me feel better.”
Valya looks over at me nervously.
“Are you sick?” I ask, suddenly panicked. She never keeps anything from me.
Her eyes dart down to Hana, then back up to me as her cheeks redden. “I’m pregnant.”
My mouth drops open, stunned. We’ve been trying for a couple years. “Really?”
She nods, her wide eyes full of trust, just like Hana’s. I love that my girls trust me. I pull her to me and kiss her. She gives a startled grunt that turns into a pleased moan. Hana throws herself at us, wrapping her arms around our legs.
“I’m so fucking happy,” I whisper so Hana can’t hear. Pulling back, I narrow my eyes and look between my girls. “If it’s a boy, we name him Milo.” When Valya opens her mouth to object, I point to the shattered statue and say, “You owe me.”
She giggles against my mouth and hugs me tighter. “We’ll talk about it later.”
When we first found out about Hana, I’d been scared, afraid of perpetuating my father’s legacy. But all it took was for the doctor to place her in my arms and I knew that I would never be like my father. Now, with this news, all I feel is excitement.
And it’s all because of Valya. Always there. Always understanding. Always encouraging.
She’s the strong one, and I’m proud to be her king. I’ll spend the rest of my life worshiping both of my girls, little Milo, and anyone else who comes along.