Page 35 of Cashmere Cruelty

I try to give him the keys, but he’s already gone.

“Relax,” June says, picking up the keys from my palm. “I think the Bratva can handle recovering a Honda Civic.”

“They’re gonna hotwire it, aren’t they?”

“You know they’re gonna.” I slump on the couch, sighing, as June adds, “Besides… that guy looks like he knows what he’s doing.” I catch her trying to ogle Grisha, who’s making a call on the balcony.

“June.June, no. Absolutely not.”

“What?” she says defensively. “He ain’t bad to look at.”

“That’s whatIsaid last time I met a Russian mobster!” I point out, flailing my arms. “Look where that got me!”

“It got you this Nugget right here,” June coos, making kissy faces at my belly. “Didn’t it?”

“Stop that.”

“Who’s a good Nugget?”

“That’s for dogs, June.”

She shrugs. Then, in a rare moment of seriousness, she asks, “You know you can come back anytime, right?”

I know why she’s saying this. Why she’s going through the trouble of spelling it out for me. For the longest time, I didn’t have a home to return to. None that actually wanted me, anyway.

“I know,” I murmur, feeling myself smile despite everything. It’s June’s superpower: making me forget that I’m in deep shit by jumping in right after me. “Thanks, Jay. I love you.”

“Love you too, Apes.”

We hug. It’s pathetic—two grown women trying not to break down into ugly sobs.

“Hold on ‘til May,” she whispers into my hair. “Promise me.”

It’s our secret mantra. Since we’re April and June, “May” is whenever we’re together. It’s family—and it’s the familywechose. No one else.

“I promise,” I croak.

“Good,” June says briskly, freeing me from the hug and scrambling for the kitchen. If she’s trying to dry her eyes unseen, she’s doing a poor job on the “unseen” part.

But fuck it, so am I.

Grisha appears from the balcony. “Everything’s ready, Ms. Flowers,” he declares. “After you.”

I give Buttons one last kiss on the head. Then I give June’s hand one last squeeze.

“Tell Baby Daddy Dearest to sleep with one eye open,” June warns, a bit to me and a bit, terrifyingly, to Grisha. “If he tries anything, I’ll know.”

“Please don’t tell him that,” I murmur to Grisha on our way down.

Grisha gives a hearty chuckle. “I don’t think he’d mind, Ms. Flowers. The more people in your corner, the better. Right?”

“Right,” I mutter, wondering about those words:in my corner.

Is Matvey in my corner? Or is the baby all he wants from me?

Believe it or not, I’m not a monster.That’s what he told me. He meant it—I think. But I don’t know if I believe him quite yet.

From the car, I turn to look one last time at the home I’m leaving behind. A temporary change, nothing more.

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