He slips the envelope into my hands, and I press it close to my heart.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He pauses. “Do you want me to give you a minute?”
“Actually… Do you think I could read this in his room?”
“Sure,” he says with a sad smile.
I don’t ask Kostya for directions since I’m pretty sure I know which bedroom is his. I rise from the couch and walk down the hall, turning left toward the master suite. When I was ransacking the penthouse, I knew in my gut that this was his room.
Everything is so him here.
Just like back at the lake house, it’s the sophisticated, clean lines of the dark wood furniture that greet me first. And unlike the living room, the smell of clove smoke clinging to the air is stronger here, as if his ghost still lingers in this room. His leather jacket hangs over the back of a chair, and for a moment I swear that if I touched it, he might walk in behind me.
I take a moment to absorb it all before sitting on the edge of his bed, my fingers trembling around the envelope. After a few fortifying breaths, I open it and let his words wash over me.
Dusha Moya,
I’m sorry for all the grief I caused you.
It took me a while to understand what your true priorities were, but I get it now.
You have a dream to fulfill. A destiny you want more than anything.
And love would only hold you back.
It’s okay, Stella.
I love you too much to ever want to stand in the way of your dreams.
That would be a selfish kind of love. And when it comes to you…
Your happiness has always been worth more than mine.
—Kill
I truly believed I had no tears left to shed today.
Turns out that was wishful thinking.
Because after reading his letter, my heart splinters in two, and I’m not sure I’ll ever stop crying long enough for it to mend again.
Chapter 27
Kirill
Russian summers are brief but intense, offering long daylight, warm air scented with pine trees and wildflowers, and a sun that refuses to set until the last possible moment. But like all good things, they vanish almost as quickly as they come. Just another fleeting moment that we’ll never get back.
That’s how they feel to me, anyway.
But I seem to be outvoted on the matter, because everyone else in the Petrov family is convinced this glorious summer will never end.
Partly because my niece and nephew are here from the States, and partly because Elena’s pregnancy has brought a hope into this home we haven’t felt in years.
Kira and Darius have taken to Russia as if they were made for it, spending their days racing across the compound, swimming in the pool, riding bikes, wandering the nearby woods, picking flowers for Elena, and ending their evenings around the small bonfires they insist on building themselves. Together they’ve turned this place into their own summerplayground, pulling joy out of every corner they explore. They even convinced Sasha to teach them how to ride a horse, and to everyone’s amazement, our usual grump of a brother has been smiling nonstop since the summer began.
As for Misha, he’s been soaking up the summer warmth and the beautiful glow Elena seems to carry with her these days. Which is saying something, considering how against this pregnancy my brother had been in the beginning.
