CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE:
The restaurant was quiet after closing, just the low hum of the dishwasher and the faint smell of garlic and fresh bread lingering in the air. Lyra stood at the front window, watching the streetlights flicker on, her hand resting on the slight curve of her stomach where their fourth child was growing. Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Dimitri came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, love? Talk to me.”
She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest. “I’m happy. God, I’m so happy it hurts. But I keep thinking about my dad. How he tried so hard in his broken way to protect us. How he died thinking he’d failed us. And now we’re here—three beautiful kids, another on the way, a restaurant
