Chapter 150
Zander
"We have to go back," I murmur, rubbing lazy circles across Ivan's back. His skin is warm against mine, soft with sleep, his hair tangled from our earlier frenzy. I'm still half-buried in the comfort of the hotel bed, but reality is clawing back.
My husband groans and presses himself closer, burying his face against my chest like a spoiled cat. "Just give me five more minutes."
I smile helplessly and press a kiss into his hair. Golden strands spill across my face like sunlight.
I love him. I love him so much it terrifies me.
Silence lingers, and before I can stop myself the words tumble out. "Have you thought… about being marked?"
He freezes. The shift is immediate. Ivan lifts his head, green eyes wide, then pushes himself up so he's sitting properly on the bed. His hair falls in loose waves to his shoulders, catching the morning light.
"Where did that come from?" His voice isn't harsh, but cautious.
I sit up slowly, guilt heavy in my chest. "I've been thinking about it for a while," I admit. "But—" I hesitate, reading the tension in his posture. "I don't want to pressure you."
"Zander," he says softly, his tone cutting me deeper than if he'd shouted. "We're married. We have a child. Is that not enough?"
The question lands heavy between us.
"No—no, of course it is. It's more than enough." My words trip over themselves, desperate not to hurt him. "I was just… putting it out there. You don't have to answer."
His expression softens, but he still shakes his head.
"That's a big deal, Zander. It's not a decision I can make lightly. I need time."
I move closer, cupping the back of his neck gently, grounding him. "Hey, you don't have to. Really. Forget I said anything."
His lips twitch into something that's not quite a smile. "Let's just focus on getting back. We've got to earn Harry and Mason's good graces again if we ever want another babysitting break." He slides off the bed with practiced grace, already shifting back into control.
I force a laugh. "Right." But inside, a seed of longing stays lodged in me.
*
When we finally return home, I find Mason pacing in the living room with Nia in his arms. She's wailing, tiny fists flailing against his chest. Relief floods his face when he sees us.
"Thank God." He all but shoves her into my arms, his own shoulders sagging in defeat.
Harry trails in behind him, looking equally frazzled. His blonde curls are mussed, his shirt stained with spit-up. "She doesn't like us," he declares miserably.
Ivan, perched smugly on the couch, smirks. "She has taste."
I hide my laugh in Nia's soft hair as I rock her. Her cries soften almost immediately, her little fingers curling into my shirt. Mason stares like I've just performed sorcery.
"See?" Ivan says, stretching like a cat. "She knows her parents."
Harry huffs but there's no real heat behind it. Mason just shakes his head, muttering something about how babies are scarier than Hollywood critics.
***
Ivan
I love my little rat.
Nia doesn't look like a rat anymore—her skin has filled out, her cheeks plump and rosy, her dark eyes bright and curious. But the name stuck. My ugly little rat is now the cutest thing on this earth.
"Heyyy, my baby," I coo, bouncing her gently to coax her into sleep. She blinks up at me, fists curled, hair already thick and dark like her father's. A miniature Zander, really. Same nose, same scowl when she's hungry.
"Seriously," I whisper dramatically to her. "You were cut out of my stomach. You should look like me. What's this nonsense about you being your dad's clone?"
She babbles something incoherent, lips pursing like she's already arguing.
"Yes, gugugaga to you too." I kiss her forehead.
"I still carried you, okay?"
I wander toward the nursery window, rocking her slowly. Outside, sunlight spills across the backyard. I catch sight of Maksim moving stiffly across the grass, his crutches digging into the earth. He lowers himself onto the bench under the old oak tree, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched like always.
He's tried moving out of the house three times already. Three tantrums from me later, and he's still here. Begrudgingly, yes. But here.
He thinks I don't notice the way his lips twitch when Nia gurgles in his presence, or the way his gaze lingers when she curls her tiny fist around his finger. He acts like he hates it, but my girl has that effect on people.
She got it from me, obviously.
"Uncle Maksim, huh?" I murmur to Nia, brushing my nose against hers. "You're going to own him one day. Just you wait."
She coos, and I pretend it's agreement.