I turn the water on and test it with my hand, adjusting it until it’s warm enough before stepping back to her.
“Everything will be okay, solnishko.”
I kiss her shoulder, sliding her shirt off before removing the rest of her clothes, careful not to let this become anything but what it is: me taking care of her.
She sniffles as she steps under the water, and I move in behind her, my arms wrapping around her
“I love you. I’m here.”
She faces me, brows drawn, so much sadness in her eyes that makes me want to destroy everything that hurt her. “I know you are. You’re the only person I have now.”
“You will always have me, moya lyubov.”My love.
With all the gentleness I can muster, I work shampoo into her hair, my fingers moving slowly over her scalp and she closes her eyes and groans. Turning her again, I let her lean into me while I rinse it out, then work conditioner through the ends, taking my time with it, not rushing anything. Massaging her shoulders, I kiss her neck.
“This isn’t on you,” I tell her. “You did the right thing. What she did was a death sentence.”
“I know that. I don’t regret it. It’s just…” She pauses, like she’s trying to find the right words.
“What is it?”
“I killed someone.Idid that.”
My palms rub up and down her arms. “I could tell you it’s okay. That in time, it will get better. And it will. But only you can come to accept it. You are a good mother. Too good. Not everyone can say that.”
“I love you so much.” She weaves back around, curling her arms around me, her cheek pressed to my chest.
“I’ve got you, malyshka.”
I pull her in, saying nothing else as her cries slam into me. Keeping her under the water, I let it run until her breathing evens out, until the shaking finally eases.
And even then, I don’t let her go.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
SLOANE
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Are you ready?”Mandy asks as I study myself in the mirror in my bedroom.
This time I’m wearing another dress I picked out, with a sweetheart neckline and handmade flowers along the top that spill down into a dropped waist, each one touched with tiny crystals. It’s extravagant, the kind of gown you’d see on a runway, but it’s beautiful, and Kirill didn’t spare any expense.
My fingers brush over the soft fabric, tracing one of the flowers, and just like that, the images flash through my mind. The way she looked at me. The way she laughed. The way the bullet hit her before it was over.
With every day that passes, the reality of what I did keeps finding its way back to me, no matter how hard I try to shove it down.
Some days, I spiral, wondering if I shouldn’t have done it. If I should’ve forgiven her. If I should’ve just cut her out of my life.
But in the end, it always comes back to my boys and what she did to hurt them.
Maybe in time, it won’t be as painful as it is now.
It’s not even that I miss her. I don’t. There was never really anything there to miss. It’s the fact that I became exactly what she always said I was—a killer—and I hate that.
“Yeah, sorry.” I shake my head, glancing over at my best friend as Fiona fluffs out my dress and Emilia straightens my veil.
Even though Kirill and I are already legally married, this feels like our real wedding. That should make me happy, and it does, but when I think about walking down that aisle in front of all those people, easily two hundred of them, I instantly become nervous.
