Page 252 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
“That was not an invitation to look murderous,” I add.
“I will decide how to look.”
“Of course you will.”
The driver pulls away from the hospital. Viktor sits in the front passenger seat, silent as usual. There are two cars ahead of us and two behind. Yaromir thinks I don’t notice the extra men.
I notice everything now.
The city looks ordinary through the window. People walking with shopping bags. A cyclist arguing with a taxi driver. A woman in a red coat holding a child’s hand at a crossing.
Normal life continues even when yours has cracked open.
Yaromir’s hand covers mine on the seat. “We’re not going straight home,” he says.
I glance at him. “No?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
I turn fully toward him. “A surprise?”
“Yes.”
“You hate surprises.”
“I hate receiving them.”
“That sounds fair.”
His thumb moves once over my knuckles. “You may like this one.”
I look down at our joined hands. My wedding ring is back on my finger. He put it there himself at the hospital, once I was well enough to sit up. He had cleaned it, but I could still imagine the dirt from the river, the mud, the blood, the terrible hours when he thought it was all he had left of me.
I touch it with my thumb. “There’s somewhere I want to go first,” I say.
Yaromir watches my face. He knows before I say it.
“Katya.”
The name sits between us.
Not like forgiveness. Not like hatred either. Something unfinished.
His expression doesn’t change much, but his hand stills over mine. “You are not well enough for a long visit.”
“It won’t be long.”
“Anya.”
“I need to go.”
He studies me for a few seconds. In the front, Viktor doesn’t move, but I know he’s listening.
Finally, Yaromir looks toward the driver. “Change route. Novodevichy Cemetery.”
The driver nods.
I let out a breath. “Thank you.”
