Page 58 of The Mafia's Septuplets
“Can we talk about something else?” I pull my hand free and return to my lunch, suddenly finding the protein-rich foods less appealing. “I don’t want to spend our time together debating hypothetical outcomes.”
“Of course.” Her tone immediately softens, and she changes direction. “Tell me about the nursery plans. Have you decided how to arrange the sleeping arrangements?”
Grateful for the topic shift, I describe the plans for converting two adjacent guest rooms into a large nursery space. “We’re removing the wall between them to create one big room that can accommodate seven cribs plus changing areas and storage for all the supplies.”
“That sounds practical. Will you have help with night feedings and diaper changes?”
“Dr. Layton gave us brochures for nanny services at our first appointment and reminded us to get on the waiting list early.” I smile at Harper, feeling a surge of affection for my best friend. “There will still be plenty for the babies’ godmother to do though, if you’re interested in the role.”
Harper’s face lights up with genuine joy. “Are you asking me to be their godmother?”
“I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more with that responsibility. You’ve been the closest thing to family I’ve had since Henri, and you’ll be the same for them.”
“Of course, I’ll be their godmother. All seven of them.” She reaches across to squeeze my hand again, this time with excitement rather than concern. “I’m honored you asked.”
“Iskander also mentioned hiring night nurses for the first couple of weeks during my recovery from the C-section. Seven newborns will be overwhelming even with professional help.”
“Smart planning. Do you want to show me the rooms when we’re done eating?”
After lunch, I lead Harper upstairs to the second floor, where two spacious guest rooms await transformation into our family’s nursery. The walls are currently boring white but will soon be colorfully transformed and covered with murals.
“This is beautiful.” Harper stands in the center of what will become our children’s first bedroom. “The light is perfect, and there’s enough space for everything you’ll need.”
I walk the perimeter of the combined rooms, visualizing the layout we’ve discussed. “I think we’ll put the seven cribs along the far wall, with changing stations near the windows for natural light, and a comfortable seating area for feeding times.”
“It’s going to be amazing. Chaotic, but amazing.” She moves to the windows overlooking the gardens, where security guards maintain their discreet patrols. “The babies will have beautiful views to look at as they grow up.”
The mention of growing up brings Harper’s earlier concerns flooding back. Will our children spend their entire childhood watching armed guards patrol the grounds? Will they understand why they can’t play freely in public spaces or attend normal schools without security escorts?
“I won’t raise them in this environment permanently,” I say, more to myself than to Harper. “Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure they have normal lives.”
“I know you will. You’ll figure out how to give them everything they need.” Harper’s voice carries conviction that helps quiet some of my anxious thoughts. “You’ve always been good at adapting to impossible situations.”
We spend the next hour discussing practical details of nursery preparation, from crib safety standards to feeding schedules thatwill work with seven infants. The conversation feels normal and optimistic and is a welcome break from the tension that seems to permeate every other aspect of my life lately.
When Harper prepares to leave, I walk her to the front entrance where her car waits under the watchful attention of estate security. The contrast between our afternoon of domestic planning and the reality of armed protection creates a jarring reminder of how complicated my life has become.
“Thank you for coming and for stopping by to take pictures of Eve’s work. It means more than you know to feel connected to the shop.” I hug her goodbye, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume that carries memories of simpler times.
“Call me if you need anything, day or night. Willa?” She pulls back to look at me directly. “I hope I’m wrong about everything. I hope Iskander follows through on all his promises, and you get the fairy tale ending you deserve.”
I manage a wobbly smile. “Me too.”
After she drives away, I remain on the front steps watching the Charleston skyline shimmer in the distance beyond the estate’s protective walls. The conversation with Harper has stirred up uncertainties I’ve been trying to ignore and questions about whether love and good intentions are enough to overcome the practical realities of leaving organized crime.
Iskander’s promises feel genuine when he makes them, but Harper’s skepticism forces me to consider what I’ll do if circumstances prevent him from following through. Would I stay and accept that our children will grow up surrounded by violence and danger? Would I leave to try to build a different kind of life elsewhere?
The questions don’t have easy answers, but they demand consideration as I plan for a future that remains uncertain despite my growing love for the man who’s offered me everything I’ve ever wanted, if he can actually deliver on those promises.
I place my hands on my stomach. Whatever happens with Iskander’s plans for leaving criminal enterprises behind, these children deserve the best future I can provide for them. That might mean supporting the man I love through the difficult process of transforming his life, or it might mean making impossible choices about their safety and well-being that would break my heart while protecting theirs.
After a stroll through the gardens, I eventually head back inside, carrying Harper’s concerns alongside my own hopes for what we’re building here. Love feels like enough when I’m wrapped in Iskander’s arms, but in the harsh light of practical considerations, I wonder if it will be sufficient to overcome the obstacles ahead.
Inside the house, I find Alina arranging pink and white flowers in the main hallway. “Did you have a nice visit with your friend?”
“Very nice, thank you. She brought pictures of work from the shop that helped ease some of my concerns about remote management.” I pause beside the elaborate arrangement she’s creating. “The flowers are beautiful.”
“Mr. Taranov requested something cheerful for when he returns this evening. He’s been working very long hours lately and seemed to think bright colors might help improve the atmosphere.” She adjusts a yellow rose to better complement the surrounding blooms. “He cares very much about your happiness.”