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I arch a brow. “And you just left that alone?”
“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready to.” She flips her braid over her shoulder. “Which is why I came over today… just in case you’re ready to tell me. Right now. In full detail.”
Despite the fact my life feels like dry wood and this conversation is a lit match soaked in gasoline, I smile. “Thanks, but things aren’t as dire as Dominik might’ve made them out to be. Arsen and I rushed into this marriage, and I guess we’re still trying to find some solid ground.”
I’m not sure why I’m lying. Maybe it’s because, as much as I hated lying to Kira, part of me liked living in the fantasy we were spinning for her.
It’s like when I told my sixth grade class that my father wasn’t around because he was an astronaut on a special mission to Mars. It was nice being a girl who had a father who loved her, even if it only lasted a few days.
“I think that’s normal. There were moments in the beginning of our marriage where I wondered if Dom and I jumped the gun, too.”
“Yeah?”
“We eloped,” she explains. “Arsen and Gedeon were the only people at our wedding. I didn’t break the news to my parents until a week later.”
“How’d they take it?”
“They were shocked, but it was a done deal, so they didn’t really have a choice but to try to get to know my husband. Which I sometimes think was another mistake.” She rolls her eyes. “I think he gets more calls from my mom than I do.”
I play with my fingernails. “But you questioned things because of your parents, right? Not because of Dom?”
“Right.” She gives me a tentative smile. “From the moment I said yes to Dom, I knew he was the man for me.”
My heart does a little backwards somersault. What must that be like? To besure? To not walk through life riddled with doubts, waiting for the world as you know it to crumble around you? What a concept.
It’s bad enough having to live with those questions blaring at full volume in the back of my head. But even when I try to convince myself everything will be fine, I have a formal contract I can reexamine to remind myself which parts of my soul I’ve sold and what I can expect to get in return for them.
“Whatever’s going on between you and Arsen, I’m sure it’ll be okay in the end.” Kira gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “After all, he married you.”
“Did you ever meet Natascha? Because Arsen married her, too, and from what I understand, ‘okay’ wasn’t one of the words you’d use to describe their relationship.”
Kira waves that detail away like it’s nothing. “Natascha’s father practically forced her on him, and Arsen was a young gun who didn’t want to turn down the opportunity for an ally. But he never wanted kids with her, not even while they were married.”
Dominik may have told Kira that Arsen and I aren’t all we appear to be, but telling her my uterus was up for sale must’ve been a bridge too far. I ought to tell her the truth… but I can’t bring myself to wipe away the hopeful gleam in Kira’s eyes.
“I saw them together, Lai,” she adds. “He and Natascha were so cold and distant. But with you two, it’s different. He’s softer around you. Warmer. He touches you and looks at you every chance he gets. There’s a spark there that I can’t describe, but I feel it.”
I feel it, too.
Because when I get too close, I burn.
Oh, I’m burning alright.
Burning with anger and frustration and helplessness that no amount of swiping my shiny black credit card is going to help.
I’ve spent the last forty minutes surrounded by baby blankets and stuffed elephants and books I probably won’t be around to even read to my daughter. I have no idea why I thought this would help.
I thought organizing the nursery would make me feel better about*waves hands generally to encompass the entire cursed fucking situation that is my frankly unbelievable life*, but as soon as I started slicing into boxes, I realized what I’m actually doing here.
This is a desperate attempt to leave my mark. To leave some piece of myself behind, so that, even if I can’t be here with my daughter all the time, parts of me can. When Arsen looks around this room, he’s going to think of me. He’ll have no choice.
But it’s not enough.
Every time I think that Arsen and I are making some progress, he reminds me that there’s a contract in place and his kindness is nothing more than tolerance.
Hecan touch me.Hecan kiss me.Hecan fuck me how and when he pleases.
But the one time I reach for him—a simple hand on the leg—he shoves me off. Draws a line in the sand that I can’t cross, but later, when it suits him, he’ll do naked backflips over that same line.
