47. Matvey

47

MATVEY

"You really fucked up this time, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Go away, Petra."

Predictably, Petra ignores me. She sets down her copy of the keys and heads to the loft kitchenette. "Where's all your food?"

"Gone."

The truth is, I haven't stocked the pantry in a while. Haven't had a reason to. These past few months, I've only ever been here once or twice, to pick up stuff or check that no one was squatting.

Now, I can't remember what it was like to live here. I've been staring at the ceiling for God knows how long, and all I can think of is how unfamiliar this suddenly feels: the exposed brick walls, the industrial atmosphere, the steel-and-wood furnishings.

The silence.

The fucking silence.

Which is immediately broken again by Petra's rummaging. "How can you not have a single box of cereal?"

"I'm not five years old, that's how."

"Boring." She pulls an old bag of chips from the bottom of a cabinet and starts snacking. I almost miss when she was throwing up all the time from morning sickness—at least she wasn't raiding my kitchen. "Guess this'll do."

"Good. Now, get out."

"Is that any way to talk to your pregnant wife?"

"If she's being a bitch, then yeah."

"Ouch. I might just tell April you said that."

"See, this is what I don't get," I snap. "You're the reason I'm married. Why isn't April mad at you?"

"Who says she isn't?"

"You're here. I didn't call you here. In fact, I'd rather cut off both my balls with a butter knife."

Petra sighs. "Alright, fine. She told me. Happy?"

"No."

It's the height of insanity: Petra forced me to marry her. She needed this more than I did. So why isn't April tearing her a new one? Why am I getting kicked out while Petra's getting invitations to tea parties?

"God, you're such a man." She shakes her head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're an incurable idiot," she clarifies. "You think April doesn't resent me? Wake up, Matvey: she does. She's just too kind to say it."

"Wasn't too kind to say it to me," I growl.

"Because you're the one who was supposed to put a ring on her finger," she retorts. "Have you done that yet?"

"Sure. Let's all go to Saudi Arabia. Then we can live happily ever after as a married triad."

"Matvey, look at me." She leans over the back of the couch with her elbows. "I'm safe now. My child is safe. If you were to divorce me, no one would blame me."

"Right. They'd blame me. "

"Yes. And you'd lose your army."

I let out a bitter laugh. "So what? You get what you wanted, but I don't get what I wanted?" I pull myself up from the couch, back turned to her. "Sure sounds like one hell of a deal."

"I wanted to be vor , Matvey. That hasn't happened yet."

"Forgive me for only saving your life, then."

"You're not listening." It's weird, hearing her like this: not angry, but resigned. Like she's aged ten years while I wasn't looking. "I'm telling you that I'm fine with that. I'm willing to make the sacrifice if it means my friend will be happy."

I stop. For a second, I wonder if I've heard wrong.

Because there's no fucking way, right?

There's no way Petra Solovyova just said she'll give up her power for the sake of someone else.

But she did. No matter how many times I replay her words in my head, they're still the same. "You're saying being vor doesn't matter to you anymore?"

"Are you kidding me?" she bristles. "Of course it does. But April matters more." She hesitates, words stuck somewhere between her lips and her heart. "I don't want my happiness to come at the cost of hers. I'm just… not that person anymore." She walks around the room and plants her feet right in front of me. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you willing to sacrifice?"

My vengeance. My dream. All my life, that's all that mattered to me. And now…

Now, I'm being asked to make an impossible choice. "I…"

When nothing else comes out, Petra nods. "See now why April will talk to me and not you?"

Fucking hell. She's so lucky she's pregnant. If anyone else had talked to me like that, they wouldn't have a tongue to clarify what they meant. "I get the feeling you're about to enlighten me."

"It's because you've still got one foot out the door," she explains. "You want to be with April, but you won't commit. It's all on your terms—never hers."

"I am committed."

"Right. So when are you going to marry her?"

I feel the rage mounting. "I already said?—"

"That now is not a good time," Petra fills in. "Yes. I heard you. So what's the plan? Six months from now? A year? Until my father wakes up cold in his bed and yours is buried six feet under? Until May's going to college?"

"How am I supposed to know?!" I yell.

"Then how is April?!" she yells right back. "How is she supposed to know, Matvey?"

I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out.

In my mind, the dominoes start falling. One by one, like a fallen pebble slowly turning into an avalanche. Everything starts clicking then: April's melancholy, her reaction to Tom's insinuation, her anger. Her tears, stubbornly unshed.

"Good." Petra nods, watching me like a hawk. "I see the light bulb's gone off."

"I despise you."

"I know." She smirks. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong, though."

Unfortunately, it doesn't.

" Blyat' ," I massage my temples against a raging headache. "Can't believe Yuri wants to marry you."

"Says the man who married me first."

"I think we've established that I deeply regret it."

Petra shrugs. "Maybe we were always meant to be something else."

"Like what?" I frown.

"Siblings-in-law?" she offers. "We certainly bicker enough."

Siblings. The idea should be ridiculous. I don't share a single drop of blood with Petra—how could I possibly put her in the same place as Yuri?

And yet, when she says it like that, it doesn't sound ridiculous at all. It sounds… factual.

It sounds right .

"Have I told you I despise you?"

"Only every day," she says wearily. "Now, go make things right with April. I don't want to be poked full of holes again next time she needs a living mannequin."

"She poked you full of holes?"

"‘Accidentally.' Didn't I tell you she was mad at me, too?"

I shake my head. If there's one thing I'll never understand, it's this weird friendship of theirs. It would have been much easier to hate each other.

But hate is exhausting. Like love, it takes constant energy.

And, unlike love, it never gives back.

"Thank you."

"For my sacrifice?"

"Among other things."

Petra crumples the empty chip bag and dunks it in the trash. Then she turns to me from the doorway. "By the way, if you want to pay me back, you can do one thing."

"Which is?"

"Stop sending my boyfriend on errands. I haven't seen him in two days. I'm starting to forget what he looks like."

I frown. Why would Yuri…?

Oh. Right. In all the chaos, I forgot to call off the surveillance on Vlad. "My mistake. I'll make sure he comes back to you in one piece."

"That's all a girl can ask for."

She starts to leave, but I stop her. "Petra."

"Yeah?"

"Your father's in the clear. I thought you should know."

I watch her shoulders drop imperceptibly. With her back turned, I can't see her face, but maybe it's better that way. I have a feeling she wouldn't want me to see. Some things aren't for the eyes of others.

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

She climbs down the stairs without another word.

Once she's left, so do I.

"Yura, it's me. The suspect's dead. Report back to me as soon as you get this."

I finish my voice note just as my destination comes into view. Yuri hasn't been picking up, but that's nothing new. Lately, he's been in the middle of a hundred different assignments.

That's going to change.

When I get to the penthouse, April opens the door with a blank face. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I came to see May."

I don't know why I say that. The second the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. The last time I gave a proper apology, it was in the heat of the moment; now, under April's cold stare, it's like my ego's rebelling against me. That part of me that doesn't ask, only demands, is proving to be a lot harder to overcome than I thought.

"Of course," April replies, sounding disappointed. "She's in her crib."

I walk to the middle of the living room. May's having a rare moment of wakefulness. She's mesmerized by her mobile, pulling on the colorful toys one by one. When she sees me, her face breaks into a grin. "Da!"

I shake my head and smile. I'm not sure if she's trying to say "Dad" or if it's just a random sound of acknowledgement, but either way, it's meant for me. Or so I'll choose to believe.

"Hey there, malyshka ."

She brightens even more. "Da! Da!"

At her request, I pick her up. It's amazing how big she's gotten in six short months. "Where's your friend, huh?"

Something shifts under the blankets. "Mrowr."

As expected. "Sounds like you're in good company."

"Buh, Buh!"

"That means ‘Buttons,'" April informs me. "She only says it when he's near."

"Which is always."

"More or less, yeah."

Silence descends back between us. "You haven't eaten yet." I nod towards the untouched tray.

"I wasn't hungry."

Let's have dinner. Three simple words, and yet I can't get them out. Something's still blocking me—something ugly and entitled rowing against my every move. My pride.

"Look—"

"Since you're here," April interrupts, grabbing a folder from the table, "I need you to sign this."

I frown. "And this is…?"

"Medical bills. For Tom."

My old rage immediately bubbles back up. "I'm not paying for that shithead's treatment."

"Yes, you are," April counters. "You put him there, Matvey. It's the least you can do."

"He put his hands on you."

"And you put your hands on him," she bites back. "So I guess you're even."

"Like hell we are."

Suddenly, a shriek pierces my ears. I remember May in my arms. Shit, did I grip her too tight? "Hey?—"

"I've got this." She holds out her hands and the baby goes willingly, hiding her crying face in her mother's chest. "It's nothing you did," she reassures me as if reading my mind. "She's just sensitive to moods."

"I didn't mean to upset her."

"Yeah." She presses her lips tight. "Lots of things you didn't mean to do lately."

"That's not fair."

"Right. Because you've been nothing but fair to me."

I clench my fists at my sides. "April?—"

"I'm tired," she says. "If there's nothing else you need, I'm going to bed."

"I came here to talk," I say. "I came here to?—"

"To show me the divorce papers?"

I set my jaw. "It's complicated."

"No, Matvey. Actually, it's not complicated at all."

Shit. This isn't how this was supposed to go. "April…"

But she's already heading to the bedroom with the baby. The cat jumps after them. He watches me just long enough to give me the stink eye, then disappears behind the door seconds before it closes.

… Fuck.