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“If you say ‘confidence,’ I’m gonna barf.”
Cyrille laughs. “It’s true.Confidence.You need to find your inner lioness and embrace her. This was your idea, remember?”
I grab my robe and slip it on. “I remember. I just can’t remember why I thought it was a good one.”
“You’re trying to seduce your husband. Lingerie is catnip for men.”
I sigh. “If it was just about seducing him, this would be easier. I’m trying to make him fall in love with me. What’s the outfit for that?”
She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “Easy. He’s already halfway there. Probably more.”
“Everyone seems so sure of that.”
“Because we’ve all got eyes. We can see the chemistry between the two of you from a mile away,” she says. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but it really does remind me of the early days with me and Maksim.”
Her smile shifts, taking on a sad tilt. I walk to the bed and she drops down next to me. We sit in silence for a minute, trying to sort through the emotional wreckage in our heads.
“You talk about him more lately,” I say finally.
She nods. “The more I do, the less painful it becomes. I think it helps Ilya, too. He likes talking about his dad.”
I want to believe she’s right, but I don’t know that I can. If I talked about Clara more, would it stop hurting so much that she’s not here?
“I remember exactly where I was when I found out he was gone,” Cyrille reminisces in a shy whisper. “I was in our bedroom, folding sheets. One of the maids ran in and told me that Nessa was in the sitting room. I figured it was something about a charity event. So I finished putting the bedsheets away before I went downstairs…” She takes a deep breath before she continues. Like telling this story requires a recharge. “Nessa was on her knees on the carpet. Nikita was hugging her from behind. And Konstantin just stood there, ashen-faced.”
“Misha wasn’t there?”
“No. Konstantin is the one who broke the news to us,” she admits. “For a second, I thought he was there to tell us thatMishawas gone.” Her eyes are watery. She speaks between shuddering breaths. “In fact, I hoped that’s what he was going to say. I feel horrible about it now. I know that’s an awful thing to have hoped for, but—”
I grab her hand and stop her talking. “No, it’s not horrible. It’s human. We bargain with fate, even if it’s not our bargain to strike.”
“I love Misha,” she says. “He’s like a brother to me. But—”
“Maksim was your husband and the father of your child.” I squeeze her hand. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Cyrille. I get it. It’s okay.”
She gives me a shaky smile. “Do you remember where you were when you got the news?”
“What news?”
Her gaze flickers down to my pendant. Just like that, the weight of this conversation swallows me up. I want to hide in the darkness, avoid pushing through the pain.
But I’ve done that for so long—decades now; where did the time go?—and it hasn’t helped.
Maybe it’s time to try something new.
“Clara was with Moses that day,” I whisper. “Her boyfriend. She never usually told me when she was hanging out with him because she knew I didn’t like him.”
“Why not?”
“He was a bad guy, and he ran with a lot of other bad guys, too. And he was older, and controlling, and… well, she never told me he hit her, but I could swear I saw the potential for that in him. You know how some people just have violence right on the surface? He was like that. Brittle. Like he’d snap at any moment.”
“Did you ever tell her that?”
“I begged her to go slow at first. Then I warned her to be careful. Eventually, I pleaded with her to leave him.” I shrug. “She ignored me.”
It’s funny how vibrant the memories are now that I’m unpacking them. Locking them away has kept them in perfect condition. They haven’t been softened and faded by retelling.
I glance towards Cyrille, wishing that I could turn back time for the both of us. “I was sitting at the window of my trailer when I saw the police coming. I don’t know how, but I just knew they were there because of Clara. I ran outside and watched them knock on the door of her trailer. I dropped to my knees.”
