My ears prickle and I feel the heat rising to them. “What’s going on?”
“Bran, I need to ask you a very serious question.”
I straighten, all humor disappearing. “Anything.”
“What do you like about my twat of a son?”
“The twat part didn’t need to be there!” Nikolai pushes his dad teasingly.
“I also didn’t need to ask that very silly question when you’re already together.”
“His dad did it. I wanted you to do it as well.”
My chuckle breaks their banter and I clear my throat. “I like that he oozes confidence, too much so sometimes. I like that he’s fiercely loyal, intensely protective, and loves with every fiber of his being. I like that he never fakes his actions or his emotions—what you see is literally what you get. But most of all, I like, no, I love that he loves me.”
A shit-eating grin covers Nikolai’s face and I smile back, not even embarrassed by saying all that out loud.
“That was actually very touching,” Kyle says, then nudges his son with a foot. “Happy now?”
“Very. Now, go away, Dad. Seriously. Or I’ll be sleeping on your goddamn bedroom floor later.”
“Five minutes, Niko,” he says over his shoulder. “And put a shirt on!”
“No way in hell!” he shouts back and leans over for a kiss, but I pull away and his lips land on my throat, trailing kisses and nibbling on my Adam’s apple.
“Baby, please? You can’t say shit like that and expect me not to fuck you.”
“Not happening. Everyone downstairs will know we’re having sex.”
He pulls back with a small pout, muttering, “Fine,” before he trudges to the bathroom, probably to wash his hands.
I know I’m supposed to go downstairs first, but I’m notoriously weak to his adorable pouts.
So I follow after him and stop when I’m behind him as he dries his hands. I meet my reflection in the mirror and swallow past the sensation crawling up my throat.
It’s not nausea. It’s awareness.
I can finally look at myself in the mirror without feeling the need to smash it to pieces. I still haven’t been able to smile at myself like the therapist has been urging me to. It just feels weird.
Tattooed arms wrap around my waist from behind before Nikolai’s chin rests on my shoulder. I didn’t even notice when he changed position and slipped behind me.
“You’re the most beautiful thing on earth,” he whispers against my neck, peppering kisses there as he meets my gaze in the mirror. “I’m lucky you allowed me in your life.” Kiss. “I’m lucky you love me.” Kiss. “I’m lucky you’re letting me fight your demons with you.”
My heart crawls its way to my throat and I have to swallow down the burst of emotions to remain standing. What the hell did I do to deserve this man?
“I’m the one who’s lucky to have you, baby.” I unlock his arms from around me, turn, and face him. “I was supposed to give you this present later tonight, but you’re making it impossible to hold it in.”
I tug my shirt free and his grin returns. “You’re going to give me my prize anyway…?”
His words trail off and his lips part when he sees the actual reason why I removed my T-shirt.
“What do you think?” I ask carefully.
His fingers ghost over the elegant sans serif font I had tattooed on my heart. Like where he got the tattoo for me.
This is the first and last tattoo I’ll ever get, since I’m absolutely not a fan of pricking my skin anymore, but I had to ink him on the heart that beats because he exists.
“You had Niko’s lotus flower tattooed on your chest?”
“Not on my chest.” I take his hand in mine and press it on the skin. “My heart.”
“Fuck me.”
“In a good or bad way?”
“I fucking love you, baby.” He kisses my lips long and hard. “I can’t believe you have a tattoo.”
“For you.”
“For me,” he repeats with raging possessiveness.
“Hey, Niko?”
“Hmm?”
“Remember when we met that little girl in the park and you asked me what I whispered back to her?”
“You said it was a secret,” he grumbles.
“I told her I don’t need help because I’m in love with you.”
His lips pull in the most contagious smile. I love being the reason behind his happiness. I love that I’m the only one in the world who has this effect on him.
“Remember when you told me to tell you something in Russian?”
“You said I was cute.”
“No. I said ‘I can’t live without you,’ and we take that quite literally in Russia.”
“Aw, Nikolai.”
“Point is, I love the loving fuck out of you, baby.”
“I love the loving fuck out of you, too.”
He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up with sheer force until my feet leave the floor.
I’m laughing and trying to push him away as he spins me around and kisses my chest, my collarbone, my throat. Everywhere.
I continue laughing even as I look in the mirror.
Because for the first time, I don’t see a lonely boy there. I don’t even see the healing twenty-four-year-old version of me.
For the first time, I don’t see the past or the present.
I see my future with the most infuriating enigma.
The most chaotic person on earth.
And the love of my fucking life.