Her eyes drift shut again and then a moment later she inhales, fluttering them open as she tries to keep herself awake. “Did you go out?”
“Errand,” I say.
“Did you kill Johnny?” she whispers, eyes already closed again.
“No.” I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead. She hums, and her breathing turns even, back to sleep already.
My chest aches, completely lost for her.
25
MARY
My bruise is bad,but it also looks kind of badass—emphasis onkind of—so I’m not too mad at it. It’s exceptionally tender, though, and my head still hurts like a bitch. I forgo my usual workout and sit at the kitchen counter nursing my injury back to health with another ice pack instead.
The intercom rings, startling me from my near hung over state at the kitchen island. I meander to the box and click the button.
“Max?” A cheery voice says over the intercom. Elise. It’s Thursday, I realize. Makes sense since there was no green juice for me in the fridge when I came downstairs.
“Sorry, just Mary,” I say, and press the button to grant her access to the apartment. I try not to let her use of Maxim’s friendly little nickname bother me—I have no reason to be bothered, literally no reason whatsoever.
Elise pulls her little cart full of groceries into the apartment, unwinding a pale pink scarf from around her neck as she does. When she finally looks at me, she stops in her tracks, an expression of horror marring her pretty face.
I can say with abject certainty that she has never had a black eye in her life.
“What happened?” she asks, eyebrows arched together in concern. “Are you alright?”
I smile, but only enough to not hurt my cheek, and I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.
“Got into a fight. The other guy looks worse.”
Maxim chooses this moment to brush downstairs and into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he says. He stops briefly at my side to kiss the top of my head, indicating to me that Elise isn’t in onallof his secrets if she doesn’t know I’m only his wife by arrangement. I slide him the cup of tea I made him when I got mine ten minutes ago, and he brings it to his mouth for a sip. He takes way too much sugar in his tea, but I must’ve gotten it close enough because he smiles. “Thank you.”
This is when both Elise and I see the state of his knuckles at the same time, undoubtedly bruised in a way they werenotlast night.
Iknewhe went to see Johnny.
Elise looks horrified as her eyes swing from my face to Maxim’s hand, and I can’t help but snort a small laugh. Maxim looks at me with a question, but I don’t explain, just stand and pat Elise’s shoulder as I pass.
“You should see the other guy,” I say.
At the top of the stairs, I hear her ask Maxim something, but he’s already following behind me, his own steps coming up the staircase.
I sense a capital C Conversation coming on, so I head for his office instead of our bedroom. Sure enough, the door clicks shut after he follows me in. Maxim’s desk hosts stacks of papers, a leather notebook that I would just love to snoop through, and another pair of those reading glasses he has.
“Did you kill him?”
“You already asked me that,” Maxim says instead of answering. I do not remember asking him this, but I have a vague recollection of him getting into bed last night, so I don’t call him a liar.
“And what was your answer?”
“No,” he says, but he doesn’t meet my eye.
I cock my head to the side and plant a hand on my hip. He runs a finger over the spines of books stacked on one of the tall bookcases.
“I can take care of myself,” I remind him. His injured fist flexes at his side and my eyes narrow on the movement.
