Page 66 of The Marriage

“I know,” he murmured fast.

He bet that scared her the most, too.

Roman held her face a little tighter, adding, “But you know now that she’s only one piece, huh? And it doesn’t make a difference to me, anyway. This is the woman I love. This is the woman I kiss.”

He took her mouth in his, without warning, and bruisingly. She sank into the kiss instantly, gasping hungrily for breath, and tugging his lip with her teeth as she kissed him back ferociously.

He trailed his hands down the delicate line of her throat and over her trembling shoulders. Crushing her tighter against him when his hands splayed across her lower back, he whispered hoarsely, “You’re all mine, Karine. No matter what.”

“You’ll always tell me, won’t you? That you love me, remind me that I’m yours—you will, won’t you? Because I hear one thing in my head, but it can’t change what you do, Roman. Okay, so I just need you to keep telling me—”

“I will—forever. I promise.”

Her forehead laid against his chest, and he was fine to stay there like that with her for as long as needed, letting her cling to him like he was her lifeboat. Because frankly, she was the only lifesaver being thrown out for him to catch, too. She gave him a sense of purpose in his life, in a way he hadn’t had before, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive himself for relapsing.

For using her as an excuse ...

Roman made a mental note to talk to Marky as soon as he got back to New York. His best friend deserved an apology for his behavior and resistance. No matter the shit he took for it, Marky had been there reminding Roman what, and who, was important.

Over Karine’s shoulder—Roman noticed a staff member from the facility walking hurriedly towards them down the path.

“Someone’s always gotta shit on my parade,” he said.

*

As it were, Marky had been attempting to reach him all morning, so he had no choice but to call the facility and ask for him directly.

Demyan warned Roman not to leave New York—his father was clear, but somethings just mattered more than an order. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going except for Marky because he needed at least one trustworthy, reliable connection to home. Since he was the only one who knew the name and location of where Karine was admitted—other than Demyan—he took on the responsibility of tracking the phone number to the facility down.

He must have managed to get the right motherfucker on the phone.

“You need to get back here. There’s been an incident,” Marky said.

“What incident? What do you mean—I’ve only been gone a day and a half?”

Roman called him back after he switched on the burner phone he’d picked up as he left town. They were a dime a dozen in airports. Available at every turn. Karine still stood in the garden where he could see her in the distance, walking along the path and reaching out to feel the bushes as she passed.

Her momentary happiness calmed him. It amazed him how such simple things about her made him smile.

“Masha, she’s gone.”

For a second, Roman’s thoughts cut off.

And then he asked sharply, “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She’s disappeared.”

“From the house?”

“Nobody thought she was a flight risk. Like, what is she running from? Who is she running to? It isn’t like the woman’s got anybody here, Roman.”

Marky had a point.

But this was just another thing.

Something else to handle.

Fuck.