Page 69 of Ivory Ashes

“You really think so?”

“Best case scenario is ‘til death do us part.’ It’s pretty fucking bleak,” he mutters as he takes a drink.

“For a man who doesn’t believe in marriage, you sure rushed into our wedding. Any chance this cynicism is an act?”

I’m teasing him, but deep down, I want to know. Why did he ask me to marry him? Why are we here on this rooftop, surrounded by flowers?

“The cynicism is from experience. The marriage is because of Dante.”

Right. Dante.

He’s here because I got knocked up during a one-night stand. A one-night stand that happened on the heels of Mikhail breaking up my very unhappy engagement to his brother. An engagement that only happened because my father murdered my previous fiancé right in front of me.

God… my life is a graveyard of bad marriages. Based on the ghosts swirling in Mikhail’s eyes, I’m sure his past looks similar.

I sigh. “Is it too depressing to raise our glasses to shitty parents and their even shittier marriages?”

“Probably.” Mikhail raises his glass anyway.

“I’d toast to not repeating their mistakes, but I’m not sure anyone would say our marriage is built to last. We’ve probably already made their mistakes.”

“Our marriage is built on mutual benefits and personal responsibility,” he says coolly. “I think that’s a hell of a lot stronger foundation than love.”

I snort. “I know centuries’ worth of poets who would disagree with you.”

“They can disagree all they want. While they were busy writing sad little poems about lost loves, I was learning from the real world. I know for a fact that when love is taken away from you, nothing can bring it back. It may make a man strong at first, but when it’s gone… there’s nothing weaker than that.”

Mikhail is staring down into his glass. The words feel like an accident. Like they slipped through a crack in his usual armor and weaseled their way through another crack in mine.

I find myself leaning closer to him. “Has love been taken away from you, Mikhail?”

He blinks and instantly, the moment is gone. He shakes his head gruffly. “What about you?”

I don’t owe him an explanation. Especially since he definitely isn’t going to tell me anything. But I decide to be honest anyway.

“Once.” I fold my hands around my empty glass. My fingers are cold. “It was a long time ago. I was young… stupid. It ended badly.”

Suddenly, more wine is splashing into my cup.

Mikhail lowers the bottle and raises his glass yet again. “One last toast—to not repeating our own mistakes.”

Easier said than done.

By the time our dessert plates are cleared away from the table, I’m full and warm in Mikhail’s jacket. He offers me his hand to escort me down the stairs, but I’m not ready to leave.

I turn to the railing, taking in the glowing city streets below. The chatter and honking feels distant from this high up. I can romanticize it in a way I can’t when a taxi is blaring its horn at me as I cross the street, Dante’s hand locked in mine like a vice.

This top-of-the-world view makes everything down below look small… insignificant.

“Can we stay for a few more minutes?” I ask suddenly.

His face is unreadable as he lets the stairwell door close and follows me to the railing. “I thought you’d be ready to get back to Dante.”

“He’s definitely asleep by now. Besides, this is the first time I’ve been out in five years.”

“You haven’t been out since Dante was born?”

“Sad but true.” I chuckle. “I hired a babysitter when I had to work late or when there was a work function in the evenings, but those only came up once or twice a year.”

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