Page 38 of Cashmere Ruin

No, not justseeingher—but having dinner with her. Like we used to do when we still meant something to each other.

You still can, whispers the voice of my own wretched weakness.You still do.

I rip its throat out and silence it.

I know that won’t last forever. That ugly part of me has a tendency of roaring back to life when I least want it around, but it takes time. Time I can use to get my head on straight.

Time I can use to forget her.

You don’t have to forget her, that hateful voice keeps hissing.You can fix things. You can try again. You can apologi?—

On the elevator ride up to the penthouse, I kill my weakness over and over again. Because if there’s one thing I’ll never do, it’s apologize to the woman who took my daughter from me. April betrayed me. Worse than that, she betrayed her own blood. That’s unforgivable.

What aboutyourlies?that voice still goads.What aboutyourbetrayal? Arethoseforgivable?

Then I step in and find something else I wasn’t prepared for.

“Meow.”

A goddamn cat.

“I see you’ve met Mr. Buttons,” April acknowledges coolly.

“Mr. Buttons,” I deadpan, staring at the offensive orange creature giving me the stink-eye from my carpet.

“That’s right. June brought him back for me.”

I vaguely remember this topic coming up when April first moved here. Back then, I blew her off with some bullshit about the hotel’s pet policy. I was under the impression that she’d pop the baby out in a matter of days, we’d work out a living arrangement somewhere else, and that would be it.

I didn’t think I was actually going to have todealwith the fucker.

“I see. How… hygienic.”

As if on cue, the fluffy menace jumps into the crib. I watch him with disgust as he curls around my daughter’s sleeping form and wraps his tail around her foot. Like he’s setting up a fucking tripwire or something.

April blows me off with a wave. “Oh, please. He’s up to date with all his shots. Besides, he’s an excellent baby monitor.”

“The geriatric cat with the eyepatch works security?” I frown.

“Hey! He wears it very well.”

For a brief second, it feels just like old times: the jokes, the banter, the chemistry. Coming home to new shenanigans every day.

And then I remember:She took my kid. She ran away. She betrayed me.

It seems like April remembers, too, the same moment I do. She clears her throat, face clouding over. “Did you want something?”

I set my jaw. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Then I open the door and let in the food cart.

We watch in tense silence as a jittery waiter sets the table. It must be the most uncomfortable minute of his career, but frankly, I don’t care. I pay my employees well enough—the least they can do is their fucking jobs.

He does. “Enjoy your dinner, sir, ma’am.”

April gives a tight nod of acknowledgement.

Then we’re alone again.

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