“I’m not your son’s favorite person,” Striker told her.
“Knock it off,” Gunner grumbled. “I don’t like anyone.”
“Except Zary,” said his mother.
“No, Mom. I don’t like Zary, I love her. And I love you too.” He kissed her cheek.
“See? He can be sweet.”
Gunner pointed to the pile of onions. “Get busy,” he told Striker before getting back to chopping the celery.
“What’s wrong?” he heard his mother say.
He looked up to see Zary’s mom join them; she was crying.
Even if he’d gotten his translation app turned on in time to catch what she was saying, Gunner doubted it would’ve picked much up as emotional as she was.
He watched as she pointed down the hall and was about to bound to their bedroom when he heard her say, “Sisters.”
“Oh,” cried his mother, whose own eyes filled with tears.
Gunner set the knife down, walked down the hallway, and looked inside the room in time to see Zary, Ava, and Aine hugging.
“Damn,” he heard Striker mumble from behind him and turned around to see him wiping a tear away.
As tempted as he was to give the man shit about it, he didn’t. It was a beautiful moment to witness.
“How long has it been goin’ on?” he asked Striker once they were back in the kitchen.
“It hasn’t. Not really. We met at Ava and Razor’s wedding.”
“But she invited you to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“We’re giving it a go.”
“Be careful, Striker. She’s family.”
“I really like her, Gunner.”
“Yeah, whatever. Get to work.”
A few minutes later, his mom came back into the kitchen with Zary’s mother, Svetlana, who walked over and showed him her phone.
Rauf will be here tomorrow was written on the screen.
“That’s good,” Gunner responded, not knowing what else to say, especially when the woman smiled.
Life had certainly turned into a shitstorm of weirdness in the last six months, and there was nothing he could do but go along for the ride. Former CIA agents were hanging out with former Russian assassins; people he’d never dreamed would be standing in his kitchen were, and the woman he loved more than life itself was in the bedroom with his baby growing inside of her.
When he’d talked to Zary about her saying she wasn’t sure she
wanted to have a baby, she told him that wasn’t what she meant.
“I’m not saying I don’t. I’m saying I don’t know how to feel, Gunner.”
“But you want to have the baby?” he’d asked for reassurance.
“Yes. I just told you I did.”