Page 44 of Emerald Vices

Try as I might, I just can’t reconcile the thought of them fighting with the image I have of them in my head—happy, loved-up, kissing over the top of my head as we played piano together.

“They hit a snag about four or five years after they got married. They were both working a lot and they didn’t have time for one another. It led to a lot of built-up frustration.”

I blink and breathe, because that’s all I can manage to do. It’s like finding out Santa Claus isn’t real.

“I can’t imagine them not happy.”

“Because you still see them the way you did at seven when life was simple and love made sense. But then you grow up and you learn that things are more complicated. Your parents were wonderful parents and they did have a great marriage. But it didn’t just happen on its own. They worked on their marriage. More importantly, they worked on themselves.”

I sit there in silence as Remi barks at squirrels teasing him from the treetops. It’s a quiet night, but little by little, Aunt Annie is plucking at the fraying strings of everything I thought I remembered.

“Do you know why they got themselves into therapy?” Annie asks after a few moments of pensive silence.

Another leading question, but I take the bait anyway. “Why?”

“For you, sweetheart. They wanted you to have healthy, happy parents. Parents who were a team, parents who would have each other’s backs just as much as yours.”

Her gaze slides to my belly and then back towards the house where Misha is still snoring softly in the parlor.

“You need to show your children that it’s okay to work on yourself. That there can be an end to trauma. Maybe one day, that will inspire them to do the same with their own demons. Love isn’t always what you do for another, Nic-Nat. Sometimes, it’s what you do for yourself.”

That night, after we’re back at the manor and Misha has gone off to his room, I grab Shura’s arm before he can slink away to see Katya.

“I need your help with something.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Before I tell you, it comes with one caveat.”

His shoulders drop as though he’s expecting it. “I can’t tell Andrey?”

I smile. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

18

NATALIA

With every passing second that I don’t pick up the gun, the tick, tick, tick in my head gets louder. I feel like a bomb is about to detonate. It doesn’t help that Shura hasn’t taken his eyes off of me since I approached the table.

“Stop staring at me!” I snap when I can’t take it anymore.

He tosses up his hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just… I don’t know. Turn around or something.”

With a weary sigh, he does as I ask, pivoting to stare towards the pool house. I turn back to the table—and the gun—but I still can’t make my hand move.

What was Evangeline thinking?

Evangeline, also known as Dr. Smirnov, also known as my new therapist. I was dumb enough to think she could help me.

Exposure therapy is medieval. What about holding a gun is going to do anything to help the gnawing panic I feel in my gut every time I even look at one?

She told me I could start on a low dose of some medication for my anxiety, but I’m gonna need a tranq dart before I can get within a foot of this gun.

“Come on, Nat,” I grit to myself. “It’s not even loaded.”

Or is it? the anxious voice in the back of my head ponders. Loaded or not, the ugly, metal gun looks far from innocent. I almost think it’s taunting me.

---