Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 183

They say it takes a few months to forget the pain of childbirth.

For me, it takes about as long as washing my newborn son up and putting him on my chest. I stare down at his crinkly pink face and marvel at the fact that, only a few moments ago, he was inside me.

Tiny as he is, I still can’t believe he fit.

I glance up at Ruslan and find his hand somehow. “You’re a dad,” I whisper.

He smiles. “I already was a dad. But it’s a new experience, seeing a newborn like this.”

“Do you wanna hold him?”

I’ve never seen Ruslan cry before, but I think the closest I’ll ever get is this moment right here. His eyes are shining as he lifts our son up and clutches him close to his chest.

Now, I’m the one who’s crying.

Seeing Ruslan carrying our baby boy… it just feels so damn surreal.

Who needs a ring? You don’t need to create a baby yourself to be a parent. And you don’t need to be married to be true life partners.

“You did amazing, my love.”

I wipe away my tears. “So did you.”

He shakes his head but he doesn’t take his eyes off our baby boy. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Not true. You supported me. You held my hand. You took my abuse.” I can see the little smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “I was horrible, wasn’t I?”

“I’ve heard worse.”

I laugh. “Still. I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

Ruslan doesn’t address me at all. He looks down at our son and talks to him. “Don’t listen to your mama. She’s one of the most amazing, most devoted, most compassionate, kindest people out there. You’re lucky she’s yours.”

“Oh, God, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

He chuckles. “Don’t. You’re already dehydrated enough.”

“I’ll drink water later. First, I want the kids to meet their new sibling.”

“Should we decide on his name first?” Ruslan asks.

We’ve been throwing around names for months now. And when you have three older kids, that means that there are a lot of opinions.

Reagan and Caroline had only come up with girls’ names but Josh supplied us with some real contenders.

There were a few good ones. Pasha. Aleksandr. Damien. But in the end, I knew the name I wanted our son to carry. “Now that I’ve seen him and held him, I’m thinking… Leo. Leo Oryolov. After his uncle.”

Saying it out loud seals the deal for me. Ruslan is smiling. “Leo Oryolov,” he says, trying it on for size. “It suits him perfectly.”

He glances up at the ceiling like Leonid might be watching us. Then, with a sigh, he gently deposits little Leo back into my arms and goes to get the kids. He escorts the three of them in first while Amelia and Phoebe wait outside so that we can have a little family moment.

The girls rush the bed, ignoring orders from both Ruslan and Josh to be careful. Both of them clamber onto the bed with me and lean in to look at their new little brother.

“Whoa,” Reagan breathes. “He’s so small. And pink.”

“How come he doesn’t have any hair?” Caroline demands.

I laugh. “He has a little hair but it’ll take time to grow.” Then I gesture for Josh to come closer. “What do you think?” I ask him. “You gonna be able to show him the ropes when he’s older?”

Josh nods solemnly. “Of course. I’m his big brother. I’ll always look out for him.”

Ruslan and I lock eyes over the kids’ heads. All that drama and hardship and fighting and fear—it was all worth it. This moment made it all worth it. Our kids are safe, they are happy—they’re in therapy, true; but don’t most kids need therapy these days?

We will never be perfect parents—mostly because there’s no such thing—but we will always try to be the best versions of ourselves for our kids. And we will never stop showing up for them.

“His name is Leo.”

Caroline looks at Leo with a maternal smile. “He’s so sweet, Auntie Em.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

Reagan looks a little less thrilled by the new addition to our family. Her lips are pursed up and she’s looking at Leo with narrowed eyes.

“Rae, sweetheart, something the matter?”

She looks from Leo to Ruslan. “This baby is your baby. Yours and Aunt Emma’s.”

Ruslan gives me a fleeting glance. “That’s right.”

“Does that mean you love him more than me and Caro and Joshie?”

I suppress a laugh. She’s gonna be a ballbuster when she’s older, I have no doubt.

Ruslan just smiles calmly. “I can tell you right now: I love all my children equally. All four of them. And to prove it—” He walks over to the cabinet in the corner of the room where he’s stored his overnight bag. “—I have this to give to you guys.”

I frown. What is he giving them?

It turns out to be a stack of papers. He hands them to Josh. Josh’s eyes go huge when he reads the front page. He looks up at Ruslan as if in slow motion. “Y-you’re serious?”

“What?” Caroline demands, pulling on Josh’s sleeve while Reagan pulls on the other one. “What does it say?”

“These are… adoption papers,” Josh whispers in an awed voice.

I draw in a breath. It’s not a complete shock to me. Ruslan and I have discussed adopting all three kids. For us, it didn’t really matter. Josh, Reagan, and Caroline were ours no matter what. But this… this feels right.

“Adoption?” Caroline repeats.

“What’s that?” Reagan asks, entirely unimpressed.

“It means that legally, I will be your father,” Ruslan explains. “Which also means you get to take my last name—if you want it.” When there’s silence, he adds, “The choice is yours, of course, but—”

“Of course we want to!” Josh says, speaking for all three of them. “We want you to adopt us!”

“Yeah, yeah! We do.” Reagan jumps head-first on the bandwagon, even though she didn’t know what adoption was up until a few seconds ago.

“So we’ll all be Oryolovs then?” Caroline asks. She’s only just learned how to pronounce the name correctly.

Technically, I won’t be, but I’m not gonna be a party pooper and point that out. This is their moment. No point in ruining it, right?

Ruslan smiles cryptically. “Actually… it would be unfair of us to leave Aunt Emma out of the equation, wouldn’t it?” He reaches into his pants pocket and just like that, I feel as though all the breath has rushed out of my body.

What’s happening?

He pulls out a little black box and cracks the lid. Inside sits the most beautiful pear-shaped diamond I have ever seen.

“Ruslan!” I gasp, looking up at him. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “I want you to be my wife, Emma Carson. I want you to carry my name. I want to raise our children together forever. Will you marry me?”

I’d never imagined a proposal like this—literally surrounded by our kids. But I guess some things are just too damn amazing to imagine in the first place.

A happy tear slides down my cheek as I nod. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Ruslan slips the ring onto my finger as Josh and the girls clap and shout and hug us clumsily. The baby boy in my arms gurgles impatiently, probably annoyed at all the commotion we’re making.

“You are so lucky, little Leo,” I whisper to him while the kids are hanging off Ruslan and screeching with joy. “To have such wonderful siblings. To have such a great father.”

As it turns out, you don’t have to be married to be true life partners.

But it certainly doesn’t hurt.