Firebird (The Firebird Trilogy #1) (33 page)

You don’t have to be the tough guy today. Today, all you have to do is marry the love of your life.

His lips twitched into a grin. “I’m marrying her,” he whispered. The place where they had once ended now the beginning, the circle unbroken at last.

***

Stephanie

Stephanie twirled in her evening-blue, floor-length chiffon gown. A matching belt cinched a waist already inflated enough to make most of her pants too tight. She’d styled her bob with a center part, coiled it with a curling iron, and blasted it with a blow-dryer to loosen it into romantic waves. She dotted the curls with baby’s breath, then dabbed English rose lipstick onto her otherwise natural face.

She swallowed a B6 vitamin to quell the tenacious morning sickness and drew a deep breath before inspecting herself in the mirror one more time. She laid her hands on her stomach.
We did it. Everything we promised. We finally did it.

Stephanie hoisted an overnight bag onto her shoulder. A limo was waiting downstairs, ready to whisk her away to the Great Lakes Gardens, to her one love.

To the greatest adventure of her life.

***

Aleksandr

Beyond the garden, the American Falls roared the way crowds had once roared for him. Now, though, only one person’s adoration mattered, and Alex awaited her with the officiant who would join them together.

His stomach had hatched a clutch of spiders. He stared at the garden entrance, his palms sweating. To the officiant’s right, the chapel’s musician played Pachelbel’s
Canon in D
on an acoustic guitar.

She glided along the cobblestone path, under an azure sky in which a few scraps of clouds strayed. Little white flowers adorned her wavy hair. She was wearing a sleeveless blue gown—she’d worn blue for
him
—that swept the pathway as she walked, like Cinderella’s gown. But nothing compared to her smile, her lips a sweet shade of rose, which the sun must have envied for its radiance. His firebird. He cleared his throat. He had to glance away for a moment, get his bearings. Once a dead leaf fallen from her tree, he had grown into something new, something stronger for all they had endured.

This is what love is. It’s irrational and extraordinary; it’s pain and sorrow, and joy and laughter. It’s us. It’s always been us.

“Stop crying,” she said with a sweet, trembling smile, “and marry me.”

***

Stephanie

There would be photos, of course, but Stephanie committed each detail of her gorgeous groom to memory while in the moment. The sunlight shining on his raven hair, his eyes glinting like polished diopside. His tailored herringbone suit and how he’d look when she peeled it off him.

Alex was making a valiant attempt not to lose it. His chin and bottom lip wobbled. Purple half-moons smeared the skin beneath his eyes, red around the edges, and his face bore the pallid cast of someone ill.
I wonder if he’s having a sympathetic pregnancy.
She giggled at the thought of her gentle giant, her big Russian bear, gaining weight and suffering morning sickness.

“Stephanie Grace Hartwell and Aleksandr Dmitryevich Volynsky,” the officiant said, “love is the reason we are here. In marriage we not only say, ‘I love you today’ but also, ‘I promise to love you for all of our tomorrows.’”

Alex hadn’t stopped staring at her since she’d walked down the path. Every so often, he flashed his dazzling, dimpled smile. Listing to one side, he’d left his cane on a nearby bench so he could hold both her hands.

The officiant turned to Alex. “Will you, Aleksandr, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

He tilted his head a little and gazed at her with such love that, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “I will.”

“Will you, Stephanie, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

“Of course I will.” She gave his hand another squeeze.

“We’ve come to the point of your ceremony where you’re going to say your vows. Please now read the vows you have written for each other.”

A team of gymnasts tumbled in her stomach. Having nowhere else to keep it, Stephanie extracted a folded slip of paper from her bra.

Alex raised his eyebrows and snickered.

“I, Stephanie, take you, Aleksandr, to be my husband, my best friend and partner, and my love. I vow to honor and respect you for all you are and will become, taking pride in who we are, both separately and together. Above all, I will give you my love freely and unconditionally, just as you’ve done all these years. I pledge this from the bottom of my heart, for all the days of our lives.” She looked up at him. Exultant tears filled her eyes. “I love you so much.”

His Adam’s apple bobbled. Alex retrieved his glasses and his vows from his pocket and unfolded the paper with shaking hands. “I, Aleksandr, take you, Stephanie, to be my wife, my best friend and partner, and my love.” He huffed out a breath. “I vow to honor and respect you for all you are and will become, taking pride in who we are, both separately and together. You made me a better man by loving me, and I will give you my love freely and unconditionally. I pledge this from the bottom of my heart, for all the days of our lives.”

His words took root inside her heart, blossomed, and instilled in her the kind of joy she’d once stopped believing in.

“May I have the rings, please?”

She’d tasked Alex with the rings’ safekeeping. He retrieved them from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed them to the officiant.

“Please repeat after me: I give you this ring as a daily reminder of my love for you.”

Alex slid the simple platinum band over her finger as he repeated the officiant’s words. When Stephanie had put the matching ring on him, he stared at it as if in wonder, then at her, and smiled with enough wattage to illuminate the darkest corners of the universe.

“Alex and Stephanie, you have consented together in marriage, have pledged your vows to each other, and have exchanged rings as tokens of your love and commitment to each other. In accordance with the laws of the state of New York, and with great joy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

Alex caressed her cheek, his watery gaze probing hers as they spoke without words. “
Ya lyublyu tebya bol′she, chem chto-libo v mire
,” he said at last. He translated it into a smoldering kiss both sweet and sinful, his tongue tantalizing hers, a preview of the night ahead.

I’ll invent a phrase
,
because “I love you” is so deficient.
She said it anyway. It was all he had ever asked of her. Three simple words that illumined the world, that had sustained them in all their time apart.

They looked out over the falls crashing into the river, arms around each other. Mist swirled from its depths, and a rainbow arced over the Gorge. “I’ll love
you
until that river runs dry,” he said. “And for all the days after.” He bowed his forehead to hers and offered that luminous smile again. “My wife. My beautiful, incredible wife.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

January

Stephanie, attending for moral support, scanned the roomful of sports journalists and fiddled with her rings. Shawn was sulking in a corner and glowering at her. Her skin crawled. Bad enough another migraine niggled in the right side of her skull, the curve in her spine thanks to her beach-ball stomach was making her back muscles scream, and she couldn’t have a bowel movement to save her life without drinking enough water to drown a camel.

Alex sat between Pat Mason—his general manager—and his coach. Mason pulled the microphone to him.

“We’re here today to talk about Aleksandr’s prognosis and his future as a Seattle Earthquake. His decisions are with the full support of this organization. So with that in mind, I’ll turn this over to Sasha, and he can fill you in on the details.” He slid the mic to Alex, who adjusted it before speaking. He’d recounted with enthusiasm, in the hours after news of their marriage had leaked, the tale of how love had tamed hockey’s reigning bad boy, but today’s presser was no cause for celebration.

“Hi, guys. Outside of my segment on
E:60
, it’s been a while since I’ve addressed the media. A lot has happened in the past year that, honestly, I didn’t want to talk about. You all know by now I’ve been struggling with bipolar disorder on top of trying to recover from my injury. It’s been just over a year, and I’ve been evaluated both by my own doctor and the Earthquakes’ medical staff. My tendons have healed, but the nerve damage is unfortunately permanent, resulting in total loss of sensation in my first two toes. The ongoing pain makes playing, with all the stopping and starting involved, impossible. So the only realistic option for me is to retire from playing professional hockey.”

Whispers rustled through the crowd. Hearing him say it to the world, though they’d talked about it often, choked her up.

“Hockey has been good to me both at the amateur and pro levels. I played eight seasons in Russian juniors, seven seasons in the NHL, won a World Juniors Championship and a Stanley Cup, and played for Team Russia in the Olympics. It’s given me a lot, and I want to give back. Rochester offered me their head coaching position, but my wife’s career is in Buffalo, so I’ve accepted an assistant coaching position with the Gladiators. I’ll be starting my new job on opening day of next season.”

“Aleksandr,” someone said, “what about the cap recapture penalty to the Earthquakes?”

“I’m glad you brought that up.” He sipped from a plastic water bottle. “I’ve got plenty of money coming in from various sources. So if the Players’ Association is willing to work with me, I want to give the Earthquakes the percentage of the penalty my recapture causes, until that percentage is zero.”

Stephanie’s eyes bulged. Pat, gobsmacked, sat in slack-jawed silence as the rest of the room erupted. Then he jerked Alex away from the microphone and said, loud enough for Stephanie to hear from the front row, “Sasha, are you nuts? The Players’ Association won’t stand for it! That’s the whole point of collective bargaining, so players don’t get screwed out of their salaries.”

“And no team should get screwed because of a bad business decision. That’s what I am now. That’s all I will ever be to the Earthquakes, and it’s not how I want to be remembered. Besides, I’m
offering
the money. It’s not fair for the Earthquakes to be crippled by someone who can’t play anymore. I’m giving them—you—a chance.” Alex cleared his throat with maximum drama. “Article Eleven, Section Eleven-point-seven to Eleven-point-nine, part
c
of the CBA: ‘Nothing in this Agreement shall prevent individual negotiations between a Player and his Club with respect to compensation.’ Pretty vague,
da
? So we hammer this out and take it to the Players’ Association.”

Pat pulled the mic over long enough to say, “Thanks, folks, that’s all for now,” before dragging Alex into a corner to continue their argument. Stephanie pretended to comb through her bag, though from the corner of her eye she could see the hand gestures indicating a heated conversation. He hadn’t mentioned a damned thing to her about the salary forfeit.

“Congratulations.”

Startled, Stephanie looked up. Shawn was standing over her, studying her swollen belly.

“Is that sarcasm, or…?”

“Guy’s a world-class asshole, but…” Shawn shifted his gaze away. “He defends your honor, real knight-in-shining-armor shit. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

“That ‘world-class asshole,’ as you so eloquently put it, is my husband. And most people have no idea who he really is.”

“Guess you lucked out, then.”

She caught Alex staring down the back of Shawn’s head despite the words streaming at him from Pat’s mouth and stifled a laugh.

“Anyway, look, it’s been a year. So I’m sorry, and I wish you guys the best. Really.” He stuck out his hand.

“Thanks.” Stephanie shook it. His palm was moist. After he left, she wiped her hand on her pants. She stood when she saw Alex approaching regardless of Pat’s insistence he stay right where he was.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

“The reporters aren’t going to let you out of here, and neither is Pat.”

“I’ll deal with him later. What did that prick say to you?”

“He apologized, actually.”

Alex made a disbelieving
pfft
sound as a crush of reporters swallowed them. “Sorry, guys, I’ve said all I’m going to say until I talk to the Earthquakes’ president and owners.”

Flash bulbs. Dozens of people shouting his name. He craved the attention, regardless of his claims to the contrary. He had married a journalist, after all. And they’d never refuse a story from him. A perfect symbiosis.

He grasped her hand and navigated the crowd. He had stopped using the cane last month, though he would always walk with a slight limp. “Guys, I’m serious. I’m not answering any more questions right now. We’ll hold another conference when we’ve reached an agreement.”

They broke through and out of the building, the dank and chilly air imbued with the scent of impending rain as they ducked into the Mercedes and made their getaway.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

He gave her a half-cocked smile. “You like surprises, right?”

“Alex, that’s kind of a big deal. A huge deal, actually.”

“Don’t be mad,
milaya
. I didn’t want you to worry about it.” Alex squeezed her knee. “I know there will be a lot of meetings and whatever. But we have more important things to think about.”

“It’s an amazing thing to do for a team you hated.”

“They deserve a shot. They’re already held back by being where they are. It’s not Pat’s fault or the coach’s fault, and it’s not the players’ faults. Just the commissioner and some rich asshole.”

Stephanie tugged his ear. “You’re doing a good thing. I’m proud of you. I hope the Players’ Association sees how this benefits everyone in the long run.”

“Me too. Thank you for supporting me in this.” He held his hand over his heart. “And I promise I will make no other decisions without consulting you first.”

“That’s more like it.”

He grinned.

“Let’s do something fun. I have an idea. And no, I’m not telling you what it is. Just drive.”

“ʽJust drive’? With no idea where I’m going?”

“Payback’s a bitch. Now go where I tell you.”

“So sassy. I like it.”

He might not like where they were going.
But of all he had conquered in the past year, this was the foe she most wished to see him defeat, and to be by his side when he did.

***

Aleksandr

A giant Christmas tree formed the outdoor rink’s centerpiece, and red-cheeked couples glided across the ice, hand in mitten-clad hand. Children darted between them, fell and, their laughter pealing like bells, got right back up.

Alex sat on a bench outside the rink, a pair of rented skates in hand. Stephanie had already put on hers, displeased she’d had to go up a size thanks to her swollen feet and ankles.

“I don’t know.” A full year had passed since he last wore skates. His guts knotted, and all he could think of was pain. Blood. Maybe he wouldn’t know how to skate anymore. It should be like riding a bike; muscle memory would take over, the way it had when he began playing piano again. Especially for someone who had skated for two decades.

“Hey.” Stephanie folded her hands around his. “We don’t have to do this. I just thought…”

Alex lifted his face to the cold breeze gusting across his cheeks. The tree lights twinkled as Christmas music streamed from the PA system. Blades scraped over the ice with the familiar carving sound that had once ignited his competitive spirit.

Always do what you are afraid to do.

“Yes. We do.” Alex took off his shoes and inched his right foot into the skate. Fear jabbed at him, along with genuine nerve pain as he slid the skate over his heel. He tightened and tied the laces, then repeated the process with his left skate.

Stephanie stood and held out her hand. “I believe in you, Alex.”

He placed his hand in hers and rose from the bench. They clunked to the door, each step sending a dull throb through his foot. He stared at the slick white surface. Like a phantom itch, his feet craved ice beneath them once more. To be where they belonged.

“Ready?” She stepped out and opened her arms to him. He couldn’t help but laugh. His wife, so much smaller than he was, holding him up as she’d promised to do.

“What?” She crinkled her nose.

“I know you’re a hockey player too, but if I fall over, I’m going to crush you both.”

“Get out here. This’ll be easy in comparison to your press conference.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“And maybe it’ll help you learn to dance again.”

“Oh, I can dance,
devochka
.” He wiggled his hips, and his heart soared when she burst into laughter.

“Come on, snake hips. You got this.”

Alex took a cautious step over the threshold. He gripped the sides with his gloved hands, a child making his first tentative strides onto the pond twenty-two years ago. Stephanie skated backward, beckoning him.

He wobbled. His right foot insisted he could not do it; he would make a fool of himself after years of skating being second nature. He would fall.

He would fail.

Alex pushed off and coasted toward her, his fears dissolving as he found his balance and instinct kicked in, his muscles eager to propel him over the ice. She continued to back away until they stood at center ice, beaming as she pulled him against her round belly. Their little girl, Anya Aleksandrovna Volynskaya, would make her debut in three months. The most incredible gift Stephanie could have ever given him, though she regretted letting him name her.

“Oh.” Alex set his hands on her stomach and grinned at the gentle thump against his palms. “Hello, Anyechka. My baby girl is kicking.”

“She’s getting ready to play soccer with her daddy.” Stephanie put her mittened hands on his cheeks and kissed him. “You did it. You skated again, like I knew you would.”

“You were right. You’re always right. I’m supposed to get used to saying that,
da
?” He kissed the tip of her cold nose, then the lips he so adored.

“Got you trained already. Go me.”

“You’ve had me trained for years. Jerk.” Alex, smiling, secured his arms around her waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Loser.” She stuck her tongue out, then yanked on his hand. “Come on. Skate with me.”

He sailed after her, getting his skating legs under him despite the pain that would prevent him from playing hockey ever again. He set his dream free, finally, that afternoon beneath the Christmas tree. Because sometimes, love was enough.

The End