Page 45 of Cashmere Ruin

“I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “Last night, I finally slept in a real bed.”

“That must’ve been nice.”

“It was. There were no bedfeatures.”

“Sorry, what?”

I ignore Petra’s confusion and press on. “We had dinner in silence. Again.”

“April…”

“He won’t talk to me. Hell, he barely looks at me. We were so happy before, and now—” Suddenly, I realize what I’m saying. Igaze up and find Petra’s eyes on mine, her expression crestfallen. “Sorry, I…”

“You don’t have to apologize.” She shakes her head. “Not in the slightest, April.”

“It’s not your fault,” I blurt out. “I didn’t want to make it out like…”

“It kind of is, though.”

“No, I’m serious. I… I used to blame you,” I mutter. “Blame youandhim. But now, I know the truth.”

“What truth is that?” she asks, coaxing my feelings out. Mytruefeelings.

“I know that he lied to me,” I rasp. “That hechoseto.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to.”

But I shake my head at that. “Petra, tell me honestly: when was the last time Matvey did something he didn’t choose to do?”

That stumps her for a while. “He didn’t want to get married,” she answers finally. “I can tell you that with certainty.”

“Right. But it was still his choice.”

For a long moment, we’re quiet. It’s a different kind of silence—the kind that doesn’t hurt, but only because there’s nothing left to wound. Because everything’s already out in the open, all the blood and guts.

Then I hear my own voice breaking it.

It’s too quiet, though: barely a mumble. Petra frowns and leans in. “Sorry, what was that?”

“He said he’d do it all over again,” I rasp out through a shaking voice. “Lying to me. Pushing me away.”

“He can’t have said that. No. No way. April, it’s his biggest regret.”

“I heard it with my own two ears. He hates me, Petra.”

“He doesn’t?—”

“And he’s right, isn’t he?” I finally break. “I took his kid away. I did that. I knew how important she was to him, and I still…”

My words are cut off halfway. Before I realize it, there’s something warm around me that wasn’t there before.

Arms, holding me.

“Shut up,koshka.”

“But…”

“Just shut up. You’re hurting. Stop torturing yourself even more.”

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