Page 29 of Cashmere Ruin

Then he’s out the door.

10

APRIL

I’ve only ever felt home in three places in my life.

One: the brownstone I shared with my grandmother. It’s where I grew up—where I finally felt accepted for the first time. There, I could go to sleep with both eyes closed. I didn’t even have to wonder if I’d be woken up by the sound of my mother yelling, or my father throwing furniture into the walls. Out of this world, right? What a luxury. What a privilege.

Two: my hole-in-the-wall with June. For my whole adult life, it’s been my safe space: just me, her, and a shared bowl of mac-and-cheese on a ratty old couch. I don’t know many people who would call it “heaven,” but it was heaven to me.

Three: Matvey’s penthouse.

It wasn’t as immediate there, though. For the longest time, it felt like a prison. And then, towards the end, it turned back into a cage. A golden one, yeah, but find me a single prisoner who’d care about the color of their cell bars. Not me, that’s for sure.

But for a while, in the middle days, it didn’t feel like that.

It felt likehome.

The penthouse is exactly as I remember it: the luxurious sofas, the sleek décor, the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows. The only significant change is the dinner table.

I run my hand along the surface of this new one. It’s… colder. Steel and glass instead of sun-warmed wood. The corners are sharp, like I could cut my finger on them just by poking too hard.

We’re gonna need to baby-proof these when May’s older, I find myself thinking.

And then:Wait. Are we still going to be here when she’s older?

AmIstill going to be here?

I yank the emergency brakes on my train of thought. It’s way too early to worry about that. To think about something as vague as the future.

Especially when I’m still trying to make sense of the present.

“Where do you want these?” Yuri wheezes from the heap of suitcases in the doorway.

Anywhere but here.“It’s okay,” I answer from the middle of the living room. “You can just leave them there. Do you want some water?”

It feels strange, acting like the lady of the house. Like this place is mine in any way that matters.

But maybe it’s not the penthouse that’s different. Maybe I’m just not the same person who walked out.

I take Yuri’s wheezing for an affirmative and bring him some fluids. “Familiar, isn’t it? This whole scene,” I joke.

Yuri guzzles down the water and grins. “Kind of. Last time, it was toys.”

“Mhmm. This time, it’s just boring supplies.”

“Nothing boring ‘bout a stroller filled with diaper packs.”

I hum in agreement. If I’ve learned anything in these past few weeks on the run, it’s that newborns need a lot of interesting things. So interesting, in fact, they can cost you an arm and a leg and a plasma donation. “Last time, you had to haul everything inside on your own, too.”

Yuri shrugs. “Last time was an apology from Matvey.”

“And this time?”

His face dims. “This time, it’s an apology, too,” he mumbles.

An apologytoMatvey,I read between the lines.

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