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“I wish Misha had just introduced me to everyone properly before we got married.”
“Misha…” Cyrille sighs as though that’s explanation enough.
“What was he like?” I ask. “Before—”
Before Maksim died.
Before I knew him.
She gives me that sad smile of hers again. “He smiled a little bit more often. Laughed a little bit more freely. He spent all his time with the family. He would go camping a few times a year with Maksim, Konstantin, and Ilya. Just the boys, the four of them, out in the woods. Ilya loved it.”
“It must have been hard for Ilya,” I say softly. “Losing Maksim and Misha both in different ways.”
“It really does feel like we lost more than just Maksim that day.”
I meet her eyes, and I recognize something there that I feel in my core. “I want to help him. I just… I don’t know how.”
She strokes my hand tenderly. “Misha won’t make it easy for you to love him, Paige. But don’t stop trying. I think loving him might be the only way to help him.”
I flinch at the suggestion. “I’m not sure love is what’s going to work, Cyrille. Misha doesn’t believe in it. He has rules against that kind of thing.”
She rolls her eyes, her voice descending into bitterness. “The Orlov boys and their fucking rules. Maksim had them when we got married, too.”
“How did you deal with them?”
Her eyes flash with a mischievous little glint. “I made him fall in love with me.”
“Well, like I said, I’m not sure Misha is the falling-in-love type.”
Cyrille looks me square in the face. “Do you really believe that, Paige?”
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
I don’t know.
I sigh deeply. “I have to believe it. My heart can’t handle hoping for something different and being let down.”
Cyrille reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. “Trust me, Paige: your heart is stronger than you think. If I’ve learned anything in my thirty-four years, it’s that you never regret loving people. You only regret not loving them enough.”
I’m probably telling her way too much too soon, but there’s something about her presence that’s calming. It’s like the loneliness in me is reaching out to the loneliness in her.
“I don’t want to get hurt.”
She nods knowingly. “Neither did I. And yet, in the end, I’m here hurting worse than I ever could have imagined. But Maksim was worth it.”
I clutch my pendant and pray that that’s true. I’ve already lost one person I loved more than anything.
I’m not sure I’m ready to do it again.
70
MISHA
It’s late when I walk into the house.
