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Paige sighs gently before she continues. “I’m not talking full-blown miracles. Just little things. Finding a cluster of blueberries in the woods. Getting discounts on the strawberry lip smackers we both loved so much. Making the track team at school.” She shrugs. “All I’m saying is, you hold onto your dog tags the same way I hold onto my pendant.”
“Except I don’t believe mine is magic.”
“Then maybe you need to change your perspective,” she suggests. “Clara used to tell me that the pendant will bring us a miracle one day if we believe hard enough and have the patience to wait for it.”
Her voice is thick with tears. I still don’t know how Clara died, and I’m not going to ask. It feels like venturing too far into her past. Into her heart.
“For a while there, I lost hope,” Paige admits. “But I found it again when your doctor told me I was pregnant. It was the miracle Clara always told me I would find.”
She sighs and reaches for my dog tag again. She nestles it against her palm and gazes down at it. Then she lifts her eyes to mine. “I’d rather believe in something, even if it’s foolish, than believe in nothing at all.”
Then she leans in suddenly and presses her lips to my cheek. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and tender. The kind of kiss that unravels knots and shines light into shadowy corners. The kind of kiss that makes me want to jump out of this bed and put as much distance between us as possible.
“Goodnight, Misha.”
She settles into the bed and pulls the covers up around her chest. Her breathing evens out until it’s deep and slow. Her eyelids flutter and her lips part.
I don’t know how long I stay there and stare at her. But eventually, I slip out of bed and get dressed silently in the dark. I can’t linger here a moment longer. Bit by bit, Paige is worming her way closer to me. If I don’t stop her, she’ll break through my defenses and head straight for my heart.
Like I said…
Deadly.
43
PAIGE
When I wake up, I’m alone.
Well, not totally alone. Misha isn’t there, but I have his ring on my finger, his teeth marks on the skin above my left breast, and the soreness he left between my legs.
It makes the absence of the rest of him so much worse.
I pull off the sheets and stomp into the bathroom to shower him off of me. I stand under the burning hot spray and wait to feel relaxed. To not feel the ghost of Misha’s hands on my hips and his mouth on my skin.
But that’s the kind of memory I’m not sure I can ever wash away. So I climb out of the shower, get dressed, and stomp right back into the bedroom we’re supposed to share, feeling no better than I did when I left it.
When I get there, I realize I’m actually not alone anymore. A small woman in a pastel uniform is standing beside my bed.
“I’m Layna, ma’am,” she says when she sees my confusion. “I’m your prenatal massage therapist. Your husband arranged for a two-hour massage for you this morning.”
I frown, glancing at the time. “It’s seven o’clock, Layna. I have to be at work by nine.”
It’s my first day back, too. I can’t be late.
She gives me an understanding smile and hands me a flat black box with a note pinned on top. “Your husband wanted me to give you this as well.”
My heart beats rapidly as I read the note.
Don’t worry about being late to work today. Take more time off to recover. —Misha.
JustMisha.That’s it.
Nolove. Nohave a good day. Not even a genericsincerely.Just his name at the end of a cold, professional message he could send to any single person in his employ.
I crumple the note in my hand and flip open the box.
A pair of teardrop diamond earrings make me stop. It’s not the gift I expected after reading the note.
