Page 113 of Cashmere Ruin

“Petra!”

“What? You can drink now.”

“It’s not even three in the afternoon!”

She waves me off. “It’s night somewhere. Besides, you need to calm down or your heart’s gonna burst. I’m not looking forward to explainingthatto your boyfriend.”

“Why is he only ‘my boyfriend’ when he’s dangerous?” I mutter.

“‘Cause I need him for the cameras when he’s not. Sorry,koshka.”

“It’s no trouble,” I lie. The truth is, however fake their marriage is, a part of me still smarts at the thought. But it’s necessary, and I’m not in the business of rekindling past strife. Water off a duck’s back and all that. “Speaking of boyfriends, how’s it going with yours?”

She sighs. “I have no idea.”

“That’s a weird response.” I frown. “Is everything okay?”

“Kind of? I just…” Petra slumps in her seat. “I don’t know. I feel like he’s been distant lately.”

“Distant as in, ‘I’m just gonna go out and get some milk’?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

Our orders arrive. Petra starts sipping her coffee. I eye my tequila shot with suspicion. “C’mon, Petra. This isYuriwe’re talking about! He’s not gonna ghost you guys.”

“It’s just—he used to be so easy to talk to,” she explains weakly. “And I don’t talk to people. Like, ever.”

“Y’know, I gathered that.”

“But now, I can’t even tell what’s going through his head! It’s like he’s somewhere else, all the time. Like he’s been… keeping something from me.”

My frown deepens. This doesn’t sound like the Yuri I know. Sure, he’s been a little gloomier lately, but he and Matvey have also been fighting pretty hard.

A stab of guilt pierces me at the memory. They have been fighting alright—and I was the reason for it. “Want me to put out some feelers?” I offer. “If something’s going on, Matvey might know.”

“You’d do that?”

It’s my fault to begin with.“Of course. But I make no promises.”

For the first time since this conversation began, Petra smiles. It’s small, but genuine. A rare sight to see. “That’s already more than enough.”

Her gratitude is making me uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to work on this with Dr. Knox—she says I have trouble accepting good things, that I’m only comfortable with giving—but it’s an uphill battle. Especially when I’m being thanked undeservedly.

“And who knows!” I say, eager to lighten the mood. “Maybe he’s just working up a proposal. You know, for when circumstances allow it.”

Petra laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“Better have a dress ready,” I tease.

“It’s funny. Of all the wedding dresses I’ve tried on in this past year, you know which one’s convinced me the most?”

“Which one?”

“Yours.”

It takes me a moment to figure out what she’s talking about. “Oh! The Bulletproof Bride?” I give a nervous laugh. “To be fair, you were kind of my muse for that.”

“Really? I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or offended.”

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