Husband for the Holidays

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Five years later...

“K ONSTANTIN ,” E LOISE WHISPERED and poked him in the side.

“Is Ilias up?” He yanked his head off his pillow and threw his leg toward the side of the bed. “I’ll get him.”

“No, shh. Look.” She curled into him as she showed him the baby monitor where their four-year-old daughter, Rhea, was sneaking into Ilias’s room. “Someone can’t wait for Christmas.”

“This one is for you.” Rhea dropped a wrapped gift over the rail of the crib. “I got it for you.”

“It’s not even six,” Konstantin said with wincing glance at the clock, but he shifted so he could get his arm more securely around Eloise while they watched their children.

Eighteen-month-old Ilias was sitting up, blinking with sleepy confusion in the glow of the night-light. His sister climbed onto the hamper and into the crib with him. Once she was inside, Ilias grinned and crawled toward her. They shared a little cuddle, something they did every morning, but it still made Eloise clasp a hand over her heart.

“God, they’re magic,” Konstantin whispered, even though the kids couldn’t hear them. “They’re the best thing you’ve ever given me. Except you, of course.” He kissed her brow.

“Back at you, handsome.” She curled her leg onto his strong thigh, sighing with bliss.

Aside from caesarian deliveries due to late term preeclampsia, both pregnancies had been uneventful, with the added bonus and delightful coincidence of their son being born on Konstantin’s birthday. Konstantin didn’t like to tempt fate, though. Much as he adored their children, he’d had a vasectomy and they’d agreed that if they wanted more children in the future, they would foster or adopt.

“You can open it,” Rhea was saying to Ilias, pushing the present she’d brought him toward him. “Like this.” She picked at the paper to start a tear, showing him.

Ilias tore little bits, making Rhea giggle.

“No, like this.” She showed him how to get a longer strip.

There was some rustling and tussling and more giggling from both of them until the box was revealed.

“You did it!” She clapped her hands.

“Dit!” Ilias copied her, grinning and bouncing on his knees.

“Do you want to play with it? It’s a xylófono .”

“They already have one,” Konstantin scolded good-naturedly.

“ Only one. Rhea wants to play duets.”

“Lucky us.”

Eloise grinned, but their daughter’s little fingers hadn’t left the piano from the time she’d crawled over and pulled herself up on it. Ilias was equally fond of sitting with Mamá to help her play. Konstantin always listened with patient appreciation to any recital and encouraged both children when they showed any type of curiosity, musical or otherwise.

Ilias watched his sister, but Rhea set the box down in frustration.

“We need Bampá to open it,” she said with a pout.

“Bampá.” Ilias promptly stood against the rail and called out more imperiously, “Bampá!”

“Christmas morning is officially here,” Konstantin said wryly, rolling to send tingling sensations down her back with the sweep of his hand as he pressed her to the long stretch of his warm frame. “I was hoping we’d start the day the way we usually do, but traditions change, hmm?”

“The good news is, we can start a tradition of napping in the afternoon. We’re all going to need one.”

“I like the sound of that.” He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, then touched a kiss to her lips. “Merry Christmas, angele mou . Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Not since last night, but—”

“Bampá!”

“But you can make it up to me later,” she assured him with a chuckle.

They climbed out of bed to dress and spend Christmas with their children.

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