Page 23

Chapter 23

Picture Perfect (Until It Isn’t)

Erin

T he late spring sun dapples the grass, casting shifting patterns across the lawn. The park is a scene straight out of a Hallmark movie. Checkered blankets dot the park, kids chase each other with water guns. It’s the kind of perfect Saturday that makes my chest tight with wanting.

Wanting things I shouldn’t.

“Over here!” Ris tugs my hand, leading us toward a spot under a massive oak tree. She’s wearing a light blue sundress that’s similar to mine—because apparently we’re that family now.

That family.

The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Perfect spot,” Dmitri rumbles behind me, his hand resting on my lower back. The touch is casual, like we do this all the time.

Like we’re really together.

“Erin! Look who’s here!”

I turn to find Kaycee bounding toward us, Melissa close behind. Other parents are arriving too, setting up their spots, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of how this looks.

Me, in a matching dress with Ris. Dmitri’s hand on my back. The three of us, fitting together.

“The famous cellist herself!” Melissa air-kisses my cheeks. “We’ve all been watching your videos with Luka. That Bach duet? Divine . When can we come watch you play?”

My stomach drops. Because of course they’ve seen the videos. Of course they’re following my channel. Of course they know about Luka.

“Speaking of divine.” Melissa’s eyes rake over Dmitri appreciatively. “Welcome home, stranger. Tampa treated you well?”

His hand tightens on my back. Possessive. Claiming. “Better to be home.”

The way he says it—low, loaded with meaning—makes heat curl through me. Makes me want to lean into him, to let everyone see that he’s mine.

But I can’t.

Because I won’t be here next month.

“So,” Melissa settles beside me on the blanket, watching Dmitri help Ris arrange her stuffed animals in a precise semicircle. “Your channel’s absolutely exploding. Two million views on the most recent video? That’s incredible.”

I try to brush it off. “Just got lucky with the right collaboration at the right time.”

“Please.” Melissa’s eyes gleam. “That ‘Thunderstruck’ video was out of this world. The way you play? I got goosebumps. Such fire.” She trails off, something wistful crossing her face. “Makes me miss performing sometimes.”

I blink. “You used to play?”

“Piano. All through business school.” She laughs at my expression. “What, shocked that the PTA mom had a life before organizing bake sales?”

“No, I just?—”

“Hadn’t pictured me doing anything except color-coding fundraiser spreadsheets?” Her smile is knowing but kind. “I had job offers from every consulting firm in Manhattan after I graduated...” She shrugs. “Then I met Kaycee’s dad, fell stupidly in love, and suddenly boardroom presentations seemed less appealing than building a family with him.”

“Do you ever regret it?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

“Choosing this life?” She considers, watching Kaycee teach Ris how to make daisy chains. “Not regret exactly. It’s a comfortable way to live, seeing your kids grow up, catching every milestone. But sometimes...” She trails off, thoughtful. “Sometimes I wonder about the what-ifs. The career I could’ve had, the places I could’ve gone.”

“I can imagine,” I murmur.

“But I look at my kids,” she nods toward the swarm of them running on the lawn, “and I know I made the right choice. For me.” She turns, fixing me with a surprisingly sharp look. “Which doesn’t mean it’s the right choice for everyone.”

My stomach flips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure, you do.” She bumps my shoulder. “When is his mother-in-law coming?”

“Next week,” I manage, the words sticking in my throat. One week left of pretending this is real.

“And then back to the city?” Her voice gentles. “Unless...”

“Unless nothing,” I cut in quickly. “This job is just temporary.”

“Mmhmm.” She watches Dmitri approach with plates of food, his eyes finding mine like they always do. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Papa!” Ris bounces up. “Can Erin and I do the three-legged race? Please?”

The way she says my name, like I belong here, like I’m part of their world, makes my chest ache with everything I’m about to lose.

“You eat first, Amnushka.” He settles beside me, his thick thigh pressing against mine, warm and solid. The casual intimacy of it makes my heart light up.

“Speaking of races.” Melissa stands, brushing grass from her designer jeans. “I should go make sure Jake hasn’t convinced the other boys to turn the potato sack race into some kind of extreme sport.” She winks at me. “Catch you later?”

I watch her walk away, but my attention snaps back to Dmitri. God, it’s unfair. The casual grace of his movements, the care and patience he has with Ris, the natural magnetism that has other parents drifting into his orbit. Even in just jeans and a worn T-shirt that’s definitely too small for those biceps, he’s a walking hazard to my mental health.

He looks up, catches me staring, winks playfully and hands me a plate. His fingers brush mine—not an accident, never an accident with him—and linger just long enough to send sparks racing up my arm.

“Hungry?” The word sounds innocent enough, but his eyes tell a different story entirely. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I manage, my voice in shreds.

His lips curve into that half-smirk that makes my insides melt. The one that says he knows exactly what’s going through my head.

“The race is starting!” Ris bounces up. “Come on, Erin! You promised!”

I let her pull me to my feet, grateful for the distraction. But as we head toward the starting line, I can feel Dmitri’s eyes on me. Heavy and questioning.

Like he knows something’s wrong.

Soon , I think. I’ll tell him soon.

But for now, I let myself pretend. Let myself be part of this perfect Saturday, this perfect family. Let myself imagine a world where I could have both—my career and this life with them.

Even though I know, deep down, that I’ll have to choose.

And I have no idea how to do that without breaking all our hearts.