[REBECCA]
My awakening was accompanied by a haze, my head feeling drowsy. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open, attempting to adjust to the dimness of the room that enveloped me.
Amidst the shadows, a solitary lamp cast a gentle glow, revealing a scene that unfolded as my vision cleared.
Artemy was seated on the couch beside my bed, his presence not alone, though. Cradled in his arms was Princess, nestled comfortably upon his chest. One of his hands gently supported her head, while the other held her securely at her lower back.
Her adorable round cheek rested against his chest, her serene slumber undisturbed. A peaceful tranquility seemed to encapsulate them both.
His voice, soft and warm, broke the silence. “You’re awake.”
My curiosity prompted me to voice my thoughts. “Was she crying?”
Artemy shook his head, a tender smile gracing his lips. “No. I just felt like holding her.”
It was as if this scenario had become routine, a daily ritual of connection and comfort.
Eager to catch up, I inquired, “How long was I asleep?”
Gently, I attempted to sit up, my gaze locked on him. His arms still encircled our sleeping daughter as he rose from his seat. “About an hour. Everyone is waiting to meet you and Princess.”
Regret washed over me as realization dawned. “Oh no. I fell asleep. I’m so sorry. They could have met Princess while I was sleeping.”
Artemy returned Princess to her crib and approached my bedside. A tender kiss graced my forehead, his affectionate smile soothing my concerns. “I prevented them from entering. Both your rest and our daughter’s were important.”
Despite his intentions, a pang of mixed emotions tugged at me. “It’s a bit unfair. They’ve been so eager to meet her.”
Unperturbed, Artemy shrugged, unwavering in his decision. “I don’t mind. You needed rest.”
Determined to bridge the gap, I urged him, “Call them in now. It’s time for them to finally meet our little one.”
With a resigned sigh, he complied, leaving momentarily before the door opened, and the room gradually filled with a mix of excited voices and bustling movement.
Amidst the commotion, Damian and Howard stood out as they eagerly entered, barely containing their enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Brayden found himself unintentionally squished against the doorframe. Following them were Leon and Brayden, and finally, Avim and Lynda brought up the rear.
Damian approached the bed, his gaze locking onto me. “How are you feeling?”
“Fatigued but content. Can’t wait to head back home,” I responded, a genuine smile playing on my lips.
He nodded in understanding. “Of course.”
Damian’s gaze then shifted toward the crib, his unspoken request hanging in the air. With a nod of approval, he made his way to Princess’s side.
Already stationed there protectively, Artemy watched as Damian approached.
Howard joined me, placing a tender kiss on my forehead. “Thank you for gifting us with this joy. I haven’t seen Damian this radiant in ages.”
As Damian’s gaze locked onto our daughter, his composure faltered, his emotions evident in his clenched fist pressed against his lips.
Howard joined him, their shared sentiment undeniable. “She’s an exquisite beauty.”
Amidst the admiration, Brayden’s voice cut through with his signature humor. “Why is everyone raving about her beauty? Newborns look more like old potatoes.”
A mixture of amusement and indignation surged within me, focusing on his unintended slight.
“Step aside. Let me judge the potato,” Brayden declared, striding confidently to the crib where Artemy stood.
Then, a moment of suspended silence enveloped the room, each man utterly captivated by the sight before them.
Lynda’s gentle laughter reached my ears. “Potato, indeed.”
Caught in Princess’s gaze, Brayden’s surprise was palpable. His initial skepticism gave way to awe, mirroring the reactions of the others.
Among those present, one figure remained apart, tucked into a distant corner. Avim’s isolation had always been his way, a facade that concealed his inner struggles.
Curiosity led me to address him softly, the question hanging heavy between us. “Why do you stand there?”
His response was equally soft, marked by vulnerability. “Don’t want to frighten her,” he admitted, his gaze shifting to his scars.
His words struck a chord within me, highlighting his depth of care and sensitivity.
A desire to bridge the distance propelled me, despite the crowd. My eyes locked onto his, my voice tender. “You won’t scare her.”
Avim’s gaze met mine, revealing vulnerability yet longing. He remained rooted, a silent observer in a world where he often felt distant.
In that moment, I wished to offer the comfort he needed, the embrace that could bridge the gap that separated him from us all.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I turned my attention back to the group of five men gathered in the room. Among them was Avim, a reassuring presence as they stood guard over my precious daughter.
Leon took a step back and made his way over to his cousin, addressing him in a half-joking manner, “Don’t let fear get the best of you.” A smile played on my lips as Leon playfully dragged Avim closer to the crib, though it was evident that Avim was quite nervous.
Soon, all of them were encircling the crib, creating a rather imposing sight. Six burly men standing protectively around a crib that held nothing more than a fragile baby. From my vantage point on the bed, I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the crib, let alone my daughter resting inside.
Brayden practically had his head inside the crib, while Artemy puffed out his chest, exuding a sense of pride. “This is not a good situation,” Brayden muttered under his breath, a sentiment that was quietly shared by the other men. I found myself puzzled by their hushed conversation.
“Not a favorable scenario,” Damian added with equal quietness, which only deepened my confusion.
“She’s already got them wrapped around her little fingers,” Lynda remarked, taking a seat beside me. I simply nodded in agreement. It was an undeniable truth. In that moment, I wondered if I might be the happiest mother alive.
My daughter had all the affection she could ever need-the kind of love I had never experienced.
“You’ve done well,” Lynda continued, her words filled with warmth.
I held onto her hands, and together we observed the men entranced by the presence of the baby princess. A gentle knock resounded at the door, and I called out, “Come in.”
Camilla entered, a vibrant bouquet of flowers in her arms. “Hey, babe!” Her cheerful greeting was accompanied by a warm hug.
“How did you manage to get here?” I asked, genuinely surprised as she embraced me.
“Brayden arranged for the private jet. I came as soon as I heard the news,” she replied in a hushed tone.
Her gaze shifted towards the men, and her eyebrows arched inquisitively. Lynda’s laughter filled the room as she said, “You really don’t want to know.”
“It seems she’ll have them all wrapped around her little finger. I can picture them following her every whim,” Camilla quipped, her laughter reflecting her jest.
“Have you settled on a name?” Camilla inquired further.
“Indeed. Artemy and I will reveal it once we’re back home.” We had chosen the perfect name for our princess, and the anticipation of sharing it with everyone was palpable.
Camilla’s attention turned back to the men, and she sighed, “I’ll wait for the boys to finish their admiration session before I attempt to see the princess.”
“You might be waiting a while. They don’t seem eager to move,” Lynda chuckled.
Her observation was spot on, and my laughter echoed her sentiment.
“Well, I suppose I’ll bide my time then. It’s my turn to hold the princess,” Camilla said playfully, striding toward the crib. She maneuvered her way between the men and gently lowered herself to cradle the baby.
With my daughter safely nestled in Camilla’s arms, a fond smile tugged at her lips. “Look at this little cutie. So incredibly adorable and delicate.”
“Support her neck properly,” Artemy interjected urgently, stepping forward to ensure the baby’s safety.
“I do know how to hold a baby, Artemy. Her neck is properly supported,” Camilla responded calmly.
“Make sure the blanket is snug around her. Claire mentioned that it keeps her cozy, like she’s still in the womb. Don’t move her too much; she’s asleep…”
I leaned back, observing the scene as it unfolded before me.
***
As the car came to a gentle stop, I gracefully stepped out onto the pavement. Artemy, with his unwavering assistance, carefully liberated Princess from her cozy infant car seat. Nestling her into my waiting arms, he graced me with a fleeting yet affectionate kiss.
A surge of emotions swirled within me, much like the ever-present flutter that danced in my heart whenever Artemy’s proximity enveloped me. His strong arm encircled my waist, and together, we traversed the threshold into our abode, trailed closely by our companions-Lynda, Camilla, and the rest of the group.
Yet, the instant we crossed the threshold, the precious weight of my baby daughter was no longer nestled within my embrace. It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, Princess was there, and in the next, Nona, with her swift grace, spirited her away from my arms.
Amid the gathered company, a hushed anticipation ensued as everyone vied for a glimpse of the miniature princess who had joined our world. Nona, in her element, cooed and gushed over the tiny figure, her eyes sparkling with an ineffable joy.
“Look at her, so innocent, so utterly adorable. It’s almost difficult to fathom that she’s Artemy’s daughter. Though the resemblance to Rebecca is unquestionable,” Nona jested, her mirth radiating from every syllable as she held our little one.
“Just wait until she opens her eyes. Artemy’s imprint will undoubtedly shine through,” I replied with a wry smile.
Artemy’s strong presence loomed behind me, his hands gently resting on my hips. Leaning into the haven of his embrace, I nestled against his chest, absorbing the warmth and security he exuded.
“Indeed, Lynda mentioned that those enchanting eyes are pure Artemy,” Nona chimed in.
“Celia’s eyes,” Damian added, his voice carrying a note of nostalgia as he stood by Nona, peering down at the bundle of joy cradled in her arms.
The mention of Artemy’s late mother stirred a pang of sympathy for Damian. Yet, in the last twenty-four hours, his demeanor had been markedly uplifted. A newfound lightness had taken root within him, a transformation Howard had noted-a resurgence of happiness unseen since Celia’s passing.
The depths of Damian’s affection for his granddaughter were strikingly evident. Tender gazes and endearing smiles replaced the usual reserve in his demeanor. He was wholeheartedly captivated, utterly smitten by the small miracle before him.
With Nona retaining custody of the baby, we advanced into the living room. Artemy gently guided me to the couch, where I sank into its comfort. Nona claimed her place beside me, and Artemy remained standing, while Lynda settled on my other side.
Nona’s dainty fingertips traced the contours of Princess’s lips, then flitted to her adorable button nose. The little one squirmed restlessly in her swaddle, emitting the sweetest quacking sound.
For a newborn, she was astonishingly animated-a trait, I surmised, she had perfected during her spirited somersaults in my womb.
“What have you named her?” Nona inquired softly, her voice carrying an air of reverence.
My eyes sought out Artemy’s, and his smile widened, the endearing dimple on his cheek deepening-a sight that never failed to ignite a tender flutter within me.
“Cevia Winona Loskutov,” I responded, the words flowing effortlessly from my lips. The name felt like a piece of a puzzle that had finally clicked into place. It had been a name we both agreed upon months ago, a name that held a profound significance for us.