Russian Boss’s Secret Baby by Bella King

Epilogue

SLATE

Ishould’ve know she’d be here.

Her chocolate-brown eyes peek out from behind the slide, and a giggle escapes from her lips.

Does she think this is a game?

I dash toward her, orange and yellow plastic gun in hand, and leap over the slide, landing a foot away from her hiding place. She erupts into a fit of giggles, running away from me as quickly as her tiny legs can carry her.

Ever since Anya learned how to walk, she’s been running. I swear that she gets faster everyday. Some day, she’ll be able to run faster than me, and she’ll be impossible to catch.

For now, though, I still have the advantage of a sturdy pair of adult legs.

I catch up to Anya in just a few short strides, aiming my gun at her and firing a little foam dart into the back of her fuzzy head. To my surprise, the gentle force is enough to cause her to lose balance, and she topples forward into the grass.

Shit. Mia is going to kill me if I make her cry right before she has to eat dinner. Anya won’t eat anything if she starts crying. She’ll sooner starve.

I rush up to Anya, scooping her up and bringing her small body to my chest before she can even process what happened. I laugh, trying to convince her that nothing is wrong, that we’re still playing our little game together.

Her tiny lips curl up in a reactionary grin, and her eyes twinkle in the setting sun. God, she looks just like Mia.

I laugh at how easy it is to influence her emotions, and she laughs in response to my laughter. Never have I felt so much joy as when I’m holding my daughter.

Years ago, I would’ve sworn up and down that I was incapable of a person, even myself. Now, I love more than just one. I have a wife, a daughter, and another baby on the way, and I love them all with more intensity than I’ve ever been able to channel into anything else.

I just stand there, gazing down at Anya, getting lost in the beauty of her innocent face until I hear and equally beautiful creature emerge from the house.

I look up to see Mia standing just outside the sliding glass doorway to the backyard. She’s dressed in thin white dress, almost thin enough to see-through, and her hair flows over her shoulder in large waves.

Her eyes light up at the sight of Anya and me together, and she tilts her head to the side. “You’d better not get too dirty before dinner. She just had a bath.”

I rub the little spot of dirt on Anya’s dimpled knee and chuckle. “She’ll be fine. Kids are supposed to run around outside. It’s what they do.”

“Not before dinner,” Mia replies, holding up her finger.

I shrug, carrying Anya toward her mother and setting her down on the concrete. Immediately, she stumbles toward Mia, burying her face in her shins and hugging her. She’s so pure and affectionate. It’s impossible to ever believe that she could do anything wrong.

But we all grow up. I accept that. For now, though, I’m savoring the lazy summer evening, running around in the yard and laughing at nothing in particular. Being a family man isn’t that bad after all.

In fact, it’s nothing less than wonderful.