Page 159 of Cashmere Cruelty

“Pretty much, yeah.”

I curse myself for ruining our one moment together. For dragging bitterness into it. But now that I’ve opened the floodgates, they just won’t close again. Not until everything’s come rushing out. “The worst thing, to me, isn’t even the money. It’s that my grandma’s will was ignored so blatantly. Everybody knew what she would’ve wanted—they just decided to pretend otherwise. It was the worst kind of betrayal.”

Matvey nods gravely. “Blood should never betray blood.”

“Mhmm. You’ve said that before.”

I leave my question unspoken:Why?What happened to you? Who betrayed you so badly you couldn’t ever forget?

I have an inkling of who that might be. After that talk with Yuri, and after seeing how Matvey reacts whenever a certain person is mentioned, it’d be hard not to guess.

But I still want him to tell me.

At first, I think he won’t. That his answer will stay unspoken, too. The silence stretches for so long that, in the end, I almost lose hope. I get ready to stand up, to leave our little haven behind.

And then he speaks.

“When I was seven, my mother got sick.”

I don’t say anything to that. This moment feels fragile—like it could shatter with a single word out of place.

“Winters weren’t like the ones here,” he rasps. “You think Times Square at New Year’s is cold? Try Karelian spring. It’ll make January here feel like beach fucking weather.”

“Is that where you’re from?” I whisper. “Karelia?”

Matvey gives a curt nod. “Everybody dreaded the winter there. The coast was warmer, but we weren’t on the coast. We were smack in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but snow for miles every which way.”

It must’ve been terrible.I choke back the words. Matvey wouldn’t want that: pity.

“I didn’t dread it, though,” he adds with a twitch of his lips. “Because she was there. My mother.”

Unconsciously, I put a hand on my belly. Matvey doesn’t miss the motion. “What was she like?” I ask.

“Warm.”

He doesn’t say it, but I try to picture it: Matvey and his mom, huddled up in front of a flickering fireplace. Finding strength in each other to get through the night.

I wonder if that’s why night’s easier for him. If the memories are good enough to sweeten it, even now.

“It sounds like she truly cared about you.”

“She did.” Then his face darkens. “She was the only one.”

Here we are, I tell myself. “So your father…?”

“My father was a scumbag,” he growls. “Always disappearing to God knows where. For days on end, he wouldn’t show. My mother used to wait up for him all night. It was freezing cold, butshe refused to go to bed. Then he’d come back with an excuse and everything would be forgiven. But every time that happened, she grew paler.”

I can’t even begin to imagine how that must’ve felt. My parents gave up on each other right away. But if one of them had made the other suffer like this…? I’d have carried that with me for the rest of my life.

“One night, she passed out. She was feverish in the morning. I did what I could, but I wasn’t really any help.”

I reach for his hand. “You were just a kid,” I murmur. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I should’ve,” Matvey snarls. His face twists into something vicious. Something animal. “Instead, I went out like a fucking idiot. To search forhim.”

Of course you did, I want to say but don’t, because Matvey would hate it.He was your dad.

“By the time I came back…”

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