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“It’s not your last shot, Mel,” he assures me.
But the knot in my throat still won’t loosen as I swallow painfully. “You hungry? I can cook us something? I’d like to feed Gabby and get her tucked in since it’s nearly her bedtime, but maybe we could eat together after,” I suggest, trying to ease the tension that lingers in the room.
The relief that lights his eyes further softens Gleb’s hard edges, and I can tell he is fighting an undercurrent of tension over my willful arguing.
“That sounds great,” he agrees. “I should get cleaned up.”
He glances down at his stained and tattered clothes, the red that still colors his hands. I want to ask whose blood it is, but after the last time, I don’t dare. Instead, I just nod.
Gleb slips soundlessly from the kitchen, and I turn my attention back to Gabby.
“Are you hungry, keiki?” I ask, running my fingers through her curls as she peers up at me with silent confusion. While I’m sure Silvia fed her lunch, it’s past my daughter’s usual dinnertime.
Gabby nods but doesn’t speak, staying more reserved after the interaction she just witnessed.
She doesn’t see that side of me very often because Kieri and I never argued, and, in Boston, I never had to relinquish my independence. I never allowed others to dictate my life. Doing so brings out the worst in me. Because I lost my ability to trust long ago. And after having spent all this time looking out for myself and my daughter on my own, I don’t know how to hand the reins over—even when I know I need Gleb’s help.
“How does grilled cheese sound?” I ask, pumping excitement into my voice because Gabby loves grilled cheese—and I want her to know that everything’s fine.
“Yeah!” she agrees, her eyes lighting up.
“Alright, then you find the bread. I’ll get the cheese and butter.”
I keep half an eye on Gabby as I get to work pulling out ingredients, adding the vegetables for cucumber salad to the counter so she’s sure to have a well-rounded meal.
Gabby toddles over a moment later, quality bread from the local bakery down the street in hand. And though I know Gleb didn’t shop for groceries with our daughter’s health in mind, I could kiss him for giving me the best materials to work with.
My cheeks warm as I think about the literal interpretation behind the sentiment. I could kiss Gleb for a lot of reasons, if I’m being honest with myself. And just thinking about pressing my lips to his makes my pulse quicken. The hope of him wrapping his arms around me releases butterflies in my gut.
It’s ridiculous how much the mere idea of being with him affects me. My fingers tremble with the anticipation of having dinner with him, and I take care not to cut myself as I slice into the sourdough loaf. A smile twitches at the corners of my lips as I spread butter across the bread’s surfaces. Maybe I could find a way to make dinner a bit more romantic.
But as I set the buttered slices into the pan, my doubts start to trickle in. I’m sure my behavior today did little to help mend the issues between us. If anything, today reminded him of why he no longer wants me.
My heart sinks, the momentary giddiness vanishing as cold, hard reality sinks in. And once more, I find myself wondering if he’ll ever consider a future with me again.
The full-body ache that follows tells me the truth.
Gleb has no reason to rethink his choice.
I’m damaged goods.
And I come with far too many consumer warnings.
8
GLEB
Gabby’s excitement over a grilled cheese sandwich makes me pause, and I turn to stand just out of sight of Mel and her daughter. I can’t help but steal a few moments to observe them together. Stepping into the shadow of the hallway, I follow their progress around the kitchen with my eyes.
Watching Mel be a mom makes my heart ache with foreign emotions I can’t quite put a finger on.
Seeing her be so open and loving—it confirms what I’ve known all along. She’s a good mother, a natural one. And it gives me a sad-tinged sense of peace to know someone in this world can make her heart whole.
Even if that someone is three feet of vibrant and blissfully innocent energy.
Unlike my six-foot-two choleric state of violent depravity.
I’m more than a little grateful that Mel’s okay. It shook me to hear someone was following her today—no doubt one of my brothers coming to take her away, or worse, to kill her as well as me.
