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“No,” I whisper. “I’d rather not screw them up before they’re even born.”
“So you’ll come back home with me?” he asks.
I have a sinking feeling in my gut. “I will move back in… in a few days. That should be enough time for the maids to move my things to another room. We will live under the same roof, but we can lead separate lives. Just like you said you wanted.”
“Paige…” he breathes, his silver eyes boring into mine. I look away pointedly. If I gaze at those eyes for too long, I risk the chance of caving. “I fucked up. I know that.”
I take a deep breath and cling to my pendant for strength. “I appreciate the apology. I really do. But those things you said exposed what you really think of me. And you know what? You weren’t totally wrong, Misha. I am just a white trash kid whose heart never really made it out of the trailer park.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think that, Paige.”
“But you were wrong about the other parts of who I am,” I continue. “I am not a con artist or a thief; I am asurvivor. I wasn’t born into privilege or wealth like you. Everything I have, I earned. That is nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what you might think.”
I’m used to Misha rising up to meet my moods. He never backs down from a fight.
Until today.
He lowers his head and sighs. It’s defeat dragging his shoulders to the earth. This is one fight he can’t muscle or shoot or roar his way through.
It’s killing him. It’s killing me, too—but I have to let that happen.
Because our children are the only things left that matter.
“This is what you wanted, Misha. Take it as a victory. I’ll admit now: I did have feelings for you. Strong ones. But they’re gone. I buried them, along with my hope for our future. It took that fight to make me realize that we never really had one in the first place.”
Then I walk past him and head upstairs to my room.
I manage to make it inside and onto the bed before I collapse into a puddle of tears.
101
MISHA
I’m not sure how long it’s been since Paige left. Seconds. Hours. Days. I keep staring at the door, waiting for her to walk back through it. Waiting for this to be some nightmare I can wake up from.
But Paige doesn’t come back, and I remain alone.
Or, mostly alone. Until I hear a familiar heel click in the hallway.
“Really, Niki?” I call. “Eavesdropping at your age?”
She rounds the corner without a trace of apology on her face. “Eavesdropping has no age limit. Especially when you’re as good at it as I am.” She drops her smug smirk and pulls out a cigarette from her back pocket. “You look like you could use a smoke.”
“Mother would kill us if she knew we were smoking in her house.”
She pushes open the tall, vertical windows. “I smoke in here all the time and Mom never notices. Do you want one or not?”
I wave her away. “I’m good.”
“Boring. But suit yourself.” She lights up and gestures for me to sit down opposite her. She takes a drag of the cigarette and then rests it against the sill so the ashes tumble down onto Mom’s prized begonias. She winks at me when she catches me noticing. “I’m pretty sure this is why they grow so well.”
“Is this really how you entertain yourself?” I ask. “Snooping on your brother and sneaking a smoke in the house while Mother is out running errands?”
“I’ve gotta get my kicks somehow, don’t I? Petty rebellion is like crack to me.” She puffs the cigarette again, sets it back down, then crosses her legs and glares at me reproachfully. “You should have gone after her.”
I don’t have to ask to know she’s talking about Paige. “She needs space.”
“She’s had space. What she needs now is for you to be there for her. Properly.”
