Page 75 of The Marriage

Demyan stood, letting go of the hold on his wife’s wrist to rub his hands together.

“Do what you need to do,” he said.

“Demyan!” Claire shrieked. “Roman, please, just give it a day ... let things calm down before you do something rash. I know you’re angry, but—”

“He’s getting too close—too bold,” Roman said sharply, cutting his mother off as she winced. “I’m not going to keep playing these fucking games, Ma. His next target isn’t going to be you, or Karine. It’s over.”

For the first time, Demyan simply stood back and said nothing, maybe blaming himself for what happened. He just wasn’t the kind of man who would admit it. His last interaction with Marky wasn’t a particularly friendly one, and while his father was a lot of things, he wasn’t a monster. He did send him off on the job, though.

A job that got him killed.

“He’s made it clear, Ma. It’s a war, now. It won’t stop until the right man dies.”

Dima had won the first hand, but Roman needed to win the table if he was going to keep Karine alive.

He didn’t wait to hear anything else his mother had to say. Leaving his parents together in the room, he absentmindedly stroked the butt end of a cigarette with his thumb. If Marky was there, he would have handed him one without Roman asking for it.

Always waiting just outside the door, ready for his friend.

He lit the cigarette just beyond the threshold of the front door. Chaos continued to ensue outside with police lights blinking in the driveway, and vehicles crowding the front lawns. They’re certainly drawn a crowd from the neighbors.

The last time their family had a police event this large at their home, his mother sold the property the second she could and bought this one. He’d been quite young when that happened.

He figured for this, she’d do the same.

Roman understood why. Already, he couldn’t stand to be there. All he could see was the spot where Marky had laid. It’s all he would ever see now.

FOURTEEN

Karine thought she would be fine.

When she kissed Roman goodbye and told him not to worry, she genuinely meant that. Maybe ignorantly, but she was hopeful enough to believe their separation wouldn’t affect her as greatly as she let it in the past.

Recovery was something she craved; starting with trusting the people she worked with every day, and making an effort to at least try. At anything—everything—Karine was willing to try. Even when that meant waking up in a room that had a locked door, cameras, and didn’t feel like hers, or talking about her most shameful secrets, memories she wished she could forget forever. If it would make the next day better, if she could start it new each time, she did it.

However, she wasn’t prepared for it to still hurt when he wasn’t there. It was as though the more time they spent together, the harder it became for her to be without him. Every time she saw him, he left her a little more hooked on him. Just like the pills she used to take, she became lost in the happier, brighter world she found when he was around.

It didn’t stay when he was gone.

The morning after Roman had left—Karine woke up physically sick. She couldn’t remember if she’d eaten dinner or the last time she drank any water. The staff coaxed her out of her room, into therapy sessions with Sylvia and activities around the facility, but her mood remained the same.

Bleak.

Empty.

One day melted into two, and then five in a blink. Her contact with Roman had been limited to a couple of short conversations where she gathered enough to know something had happened after he arrived home in New York. He also made it clear it wasn’t something they could discuss over the phone, so she was once again in the dark.

Soon, Sylvia or someone from the staff would be knocking on her door any minute now. Even though she was hungry, she didn’t want to eat any of the breakfast they’d bring her. She still would because health started with providing her body with what it needed, even if that was food that she couldn’t really taste.

Not that she wanted to, but Karine was sinking into that lonely hole of abandonment and betrayal again. Though she worked hard to tell herself what she felt today might not be the same as what she woke up feeling tomorrow, it didn’t seem to matter. She wished her emotions weren’t so constantly broken, whipping back and forth to create a storm she couldn’t escape.

A soft sigh of desperation escaped her lips, and she fell back into bed—just as there was a knock on the door, and she had been considering hiding back under the blankets.

“Go away,” she called out.

Either not hearing Karine, or just not caring, the lock on her door clicked loudly swinging open to expose Mrs. Hughes, one of the women who worked closely with her. She leaned just far enough in the doorway to show a brilliant smile.

“Oh, good, you’re awake, Karine. Your father is here to see you, and I just wanted to check if you’re okay with that.”