She’d lived a long life. She must’ve seen many things, many places, many people. At that moment, as I thought of all the things she must have done with those hands, she reached over and squeezed my right hand.
I walked away from the clinic, straight to my dad’s school.
I waited for him in his office, wondering if he’d make me go back to the clinic. When he finished with classes, we talked about my options and what I should do. He didn’t drive me back to the clinic but offered to take me there if I wanted to go in the next few days or so.
Sergei returned two years after Chi-chi was born. We got married a few years later, and the rest is, as they say, history. All this to say that I have experience with men leaving when I could’ve used their help. This one is no different.
I grab his injured ankle and dig my fingernails into it.
He curses and flinches. “Fuck. That hurts.”
“You deserve it!” I scream. “You deserve much worse. You could’ve told me that bag didn’t hold a hockey stick or a trombone. Didn’t have to tell me what it was exactly, because yes, I would’ve made you throw it over the bridge, but you could’ve suggested that you were carrying the sniper rifle that…that… Did you take out Massio Crossbow? The Massio Crossbow, who, by the way, has a successor who will come after you, and me, and this guy.” I point at the man next to me. “Your brother.” I squeeze his ankle again, mainly because it’s not swollen anymore. It’s mostly healed.
Good for him. Jerk.
“It’s best if you do not say such things.”
“Which things?”
“About Massio’s passing.”
“He didn’t pass. You sh?—”
Faster than I can blink, the man grabs the back of my neck and crushes his lips over mine. I open my mouth, mainly because I’m shocked, but he takes advantage of it and pushes his tongue inside. His masculine sandalwood scent drifts into my nose, and when he moans softly as if he’s enjoying kissing me, I let him.
He projects authority, and he’s attentive, the way a man ought to be, leading the kiss so that I can relax and give in to the moment.
His kiss makes me even angrier at him. Because now I’m also mad at myself for enjoying it. How could I not? He’s a good kisser. I haven’t been kissed in a long time. I forgot what it felt like to be kissed, or desired, for that matter.
“Don’t be mad at me,” he says. “I did my best. I really did. And I came for you as soon as I heard. I’m sorry, Dina. I am sorry.”
I have never kissed a man who wasn’t my husband. Until now. Nobody needs to know that. This kiss, this simple touch of lips, that should be completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of my fucked-up life, liberated me from Sergei in a way this man could never understand.
I can barely catch my breath.
But I can’t be a grateful little bitch and get down on my knees now, can I? No. I’m staying mad at him.
This man ruined my life.
I’m not sure how to rebuild after this ruin. That’s a dreadful, scary thought since I’ve fixed a lot of wrong moves in my life. Some have turned out to be my biggest blessings (my daughter), while other decisions (to marry Sergei) felt like blessings at the time, but didn’t work out at all.
I cross my arms over my chest while my lips tingle from his kiss.
“Who hurt you?”
I sniff, and he hands me a tissue. “It was the detective. The woman.” I wipe my nose. “She tried to get me to admit to murdering Massio.”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
“No, but I almost did. Had you not intervened when you did, I would have tried to negotiate a plea deal.”
The man sighs. “I’m glad you didn’t make a deal.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one chained to the desk of a raging, corrupt cop.”
A bottle of water appears in front of me. I glance at the man’s brother and accept it with a thank-you.
“I’m feeling very awkward right now, holding the candle for you guys. Could you not kiss anymore?” He hands me some pills. “For the pain.”
