Yes. Yes. Which is the entire fucking problem.
My cheeks burn. I throw his words from the night on the roof back at him. “You know I like what I see, Mikhail. I’ve never denied that.”
He wags a finger in the air. “Except you are, Viviana. You’re denying it right now. You’re standing here because I’m following your rules. We got married and you said no sex. This is a business arrangement, remember? But the first time I don’t walk you to the front door and kiss you under the porch light, you storm into my office and start making demands.”
“For Dante!” I scream. “I’m making demands for Dante!”
“Using your son to get closer to me.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “It’s a dirty trick, even by my standards.”
“I’m not—I would never—” Angry tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
This is what Mikhail wants.
He wants me to hate him. To yell and scream and give him an excuse to keep me at arm’s length.
If that’s what he wants, why should I fight to bring him closer?
I let that tiny seed of hope sprout in my chest, convincing me that maybe there could be more between us, if only because I like the symmetry of his face and the way his body feels against mine. But a relationship is built on more than that.
It’s built on things I can’t give him.
Like the whole truth. Every seedy detail of how exactly I was able to disappear for so long.
And things he can’t give me.
Like his heart.
I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “I don’t care if you and I never speak again from this moment forward. But you can’t do that to Dante. He knows you are his father. He figured it out. And just because you don’t deserve a son like him, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to have his father in his life. Business is all you seem to understand, so try treating our son like a job. You need to show up for him every day. If you can’t, you let me know so I can pick up that slack. He deserves better than either of us—but you and I are all he has.”
Before Mikhail can say anything, I turn and leave.
I make it to the bathroom at the end of the hall before the tears start to fall.
26
VIVIANA
“See you mañana, Margaret.” Steve raps his knuckles on my desk as he passes by towards the elevators.
Mikhail sent out a memo two days ago about my official name change, but Steve never checks the memos. He barely knows how his email inbox functions. If it was up to him, we’d all use carrier pigeons and smoke signals to communicate.
Everyone else who did read the memo has taken to my real name with smiles and visible, but unspoken, confusion.
I fight an eye roll and wave. “Later, Steve.”
Mikhail’s office is already empty. He left half an hour ago without a word to me. Walked right past my desk like I wasn’t even there. Like I was a piece of furniture in the corner instead of his wife and the mother of his child.
On one hand, I’m glad he isn’t spouting off about our marriage. It’s not real and I don’t want people to think I was some spy working on the inside to help my husband take over the company. That wouldn’t be good for office morale.
On the other hand, being called into Mikhail’s office fifteen minutes after my explosion to explain the quirks of Mr. Fredrickson’s office phone was difficult with the enormous elephant in the room.
If you want the phone to connect, you have to pick up the receiver and then—Oh dear, would you look at that? The elephant shit on the desk again. Anyway, about that phone?—
I leave right at five, turning off the light in Mikhail’s office as I go.
Jackie is still down at the front desk. She’s swapping her heels for a pair of walking shoes. She looks up as my own heels click past.
“Hey, Marg—er, Viviana.” She chuckles awkwardly. “That’s going to take some getting used to. Are you about to brave the subway in heels?”