“He’s the one who should be nervous, Kristin.” My little sister sits in the chair beside me, fidgeting with her clothes.
“You think?” She laughs nervously. “What do I say, Max? Oh, hey, I know we haven’t spoken for six months and I just disappeared without a trace, but I’m having your baby.”
I look down at her huge pregnant belly and lift my eyebrows. “I think he’ll figure out that last part fairly quickly.”
She swats me on the arm. “Stop!”
“When he gets here, I’ll give you two some privacy, but I’ll be right at the next table if you need me.”
“I won’t need you.” She rolls her eyes. “Jakob’s a sweetheart.”
I almost choke on fresh air. That’s definitely not what I’ve heard. But men like him—men like me—can still be good fathers and husbands. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, which is why after Dmitri gave me his name, I contacted him and arranged this meeting.
Suddenly, Kristin grabs hold of my arm. “It’s him,” she whispers. I look up to see a tall, heavyset guy with dark hair and a thick beard walk into the empty restaurant. His two guards hang back by the door, and as soon as his eyes meet hers, I get it. I understand why my sister insisted he would never do anything to hurt her because he looks at her the same way I look at my girl.
I stand and greet him first. “Jakob?”
“Maximo?” He holds out his hand and I shake it.
“I’ll leave you both to talk.” I turn to Kristin and give her a soft kiss on the cheek before I whisper, “Say the word and he’s dead.”
“Stop it.” She laughs, pushing me away and looking at Jakob.
I shake my head and take a seat at a table a few feet away. They stand and look at each other for several seconds.
“I’m sorry. My dad … he …” she starts to ramble.
“I know. They told me,” he replies in a thick Russian accent.
She rubs a hand over her swollen belly.
“It’s mine?” he asks, and I wince at the hurt on her face. But what else is the guy supposed to say? He hasn’t seen her for six months.
“Of course he’s yours.”
“He?”
“It’s a boy, yeah.” She looks down at the floor, and I shake my head. Jakob’s blowing this, and I’m going to be forced to slap some sense into him if he doesn’t up his game soon.
He says something in Russian, and the words must mean something to her because she looks up and smiles. And then she’s in his arms and he’s kissing her like there’s no one else in the room.
Uncomfortable, I look away, feeling like a voyeur and making a mental note to limit Joey’s and my displays of affection in front of her brothers. Well, I’ll try at least, but it’s too damn hard to keep my hands off her.
When I look up, they’re still kissing, so I clear my throat to remind them that I’m still here. Fortunately they pull apart and sit down, spending the next hour talking and smiling and staring into each other’s eyes. Even a blind man could see these two are made for each other.
“Thank you for looking after Kristin and arranging this, Maximo,” Jakob says as he gets ready to leave the restaurant.
“Any time,” I assure him.
He looks back at my little sister. “I’m not leaving here without you both. I’ll be staying in Chicago until you agree to come home with me.”
Kristin blushes to the roots of her hair. “I know. But I have to speak to my father. And you have to meet him. We have lots to organize.”
Jakob nods. “Come to my hotel later. You and your father. We can talk about everything?”
“Okay. We can do that,” she agrees, a huge smile on her face.
“I’ll be outside in the car.” With a nod to them both, I walk away, giving them privacy to say their goodbyes.
Stepping outside into the sunshine, I smile. I’m glad Kristin was right about him. Whatever else he may be, he seems to adore her. That’s all I can ask, not that I have much say in her life given that I’ve only known her for a few weeks. But I guess my relationship with Joey has taught me that the people we would choose for those we care about aren’t necessarily the people they belong with.
Kristin climbs into the car a few moments later, a radiant smile lighting up her face.
I laugh as I start the engine. “That went well then?”
“Better than well, Max! He wants me and the baby to live with him in New York. He has his own apartment. His brother lives there as well, but the place is huge and we won’t be in his way, and he’s fine about having a baby there. And Jakob is super excited about the baby too …” She continues to ramble excitedly for the entire ride home, talking about their plans for the future and how happy she is.
“I’m happy for you, sis.”
“You are?”
“Of course I am.”
“Did you like him, Max? It means a lot to me that you do.”
It means a lot to me that she cares about my opinion. “I do,” I admit. “But I’m going to miss you when you go to New York.”
“I’ll miss you too. But you and Joey will come visit, right? I mean you’ll have to come meet your nephew.”
I grin over at her. “Try and stop us.”
Kristin goes to find her father when we get back to the house, and I shower and change into my suit. It’s Gabriella’s christening day and the house is a flurry of activity. Joey’s busy organizing caterers and balloons for the party afterward, and I head down to the garden to find her.
“Maximo?” Anya’s soft voice calls as I pass the den.
“Everything okay?” I ask as I walk toward her. She’s dressed in a soft pink dress with her hair and makeup done, but she still looks so pale and weak that it stops me in my tracks. With everything going on, I haven’t seen much of her these past few weeks, and I regret that. Anya is a woman I deeply admire and respect. Life is too fucking cruel sometimes.
“I need to ask you a favor,” she says with a smile that is still capable of lighting up a room. Slipping into the den, she beckons me to follow.
“Of course. What is it?”
I watch her perch on the edge of the sofa, my curiosity well and truly piqued. I’m surprised she’s even here alone. It’s rare that Lorenzo isn’t by her side these days.
“Won’t you sit?” she asks.
Unable to figure out what she could possibly want to talk to me about, I sit across from her. She takes a sip from the glass of water on the table beside her. Reaching under the sofa cushion, she grabs a small white envelope and hands it to me. It has Lorenzo’s name written on the front in her delicate handwriting.
“What is this?”
“It’s for Lorenzo.”
“Yeah, I can see that, so why are you giving it to me?”
“It’s a letter,” she says softly, her eyes brimming with tears. “For after I’m gone.”
Jesus, fuck! “Anya. Don’t talk like that—”
“Maximo!” she admonishes me. “I am dying. We all know it. There is no miracle cure around the corner. In a few months’ time, I won’t be here. That’s the sad truth, but I’ve come to accept it.” She gives a slight shrug of her shoulders. Even talking about her own death, she’s dignified and resilient.
“But this …” I hold up the letter.
“If I give it to him myself, he’ll tear it up.” She shakes her head. “Besides, it is not for him to read yet.”
“When should he read it?”
“That’s for you to decide. I trust you to make that call.”
A heavy weight presses on my chest. “How will I know that, Anya?”
“It’s not sealed. Read it.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
“Please, Maximo?”
“Why not Joey? Or Kat? Or Dante?”
She shakes her head. “They’re too close to him. They won’t be able to bear his pain and they’ll give in too soon just to make him feel better. It will all be wasted.”
“And you think that I can stand to see him hurting? They should be the ones, Anya. Not me,” I argue. Staring at her, I silently plead for her to reconsider. I don’t want this fucking letter. Already it feels like a lead weight around my neck. How the fuck do I know when the right time is? I don’t understand why I’m the one being trusted with something as important as whatever this is.
“You are the right man, Maximo. You love him like a brother, but you see him for the man he is and the man he can be. Read the letter, and then one day I hope you will know when to give it to him.”
“I-I can’t read your private letter to him. It’s fucking wrong.”
She frowns. “It’s not private if I give you permission.”
“Anya? Please? This feels too important. What if I fuck it up?”
Her frown shifts into a beautiful smile. “You won’t. I promise you that.”
I stare at her, the white envelope scorching my hand. I don’t want this, but what choice do I have?
Anya stands and brushes the creases from her dress. “Read it now and we will never speak of it again. You will know when the time is right.”
“Anya?”
“Promise me you will give it to him when the time is right, Max.”
I stare at her face, etched with anguish and pain—not for herself though, never for her. It’s all for him. He will break when she dies. He will lose himself, and who knows if he’ll ever recover? “I promise.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and then she walks out of the room, leaving me alone.
My fingers actually tremble when I unfold the top of the envelope. Carefully, I pull out the pale pink pages, unfurling them gently so I don’t damage the precious contents in any way.
Sitting back on the sofa, I read the words a dying woman wrote to the man she loves more than anything in the world. I am not an emotional man and I never have been, but tears stream down my face as I accept the enormity of what she’s asked me to do.
