Page 102 of Married with Blood
“Itwasan arrangement, though. Killing her brother doesn’t change that.”
“It doesn’t need to change anything about how we encountered each other. I can only look back and be grateful that we did. What we share isn’t an arrangement any longer. It’s a lifelong commitment, one I will honor and respect with love.”
He patted my back as we neared my house. “Good.” With one more curt nod, he bade me farewell and left me to it.
Talking to Carina could be a conversation fraught with nerves and too many emotions to corral and harness right now. I wasn’t intimidated, though. Not waiting a second longer, I entered my home and sought her out to let her know thatnow, the rest of our lives could begin in as much peace as we could dictate.
36
CARINA
Iwore a path on the carpet as I tracked back and forth through the bedroom. There was no possibility that I could sit still. Or not move. Or be stationary in any fashion. The second I went still, it was like my brain went into overdrive with too many thoughts that clashed in a chaotic lack of order. My heart tripped into another form of commotion as I endured the lash of so many conflicting feelings that churned me up from the inside out.
Pacing like I could outrun the turmoil in my mind and soul, I focused on nothing. Nothing but placing one foot in front of the other and then pivoting to do it again.
Almost obsessively, I had to keep moving. Walking. And doing all I could not to dwell on the fact that my husband was executing my brother. Probably right this instant.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, despising the tears streaming down my face.
I lifted both my hands, one to use for wiping my cheeks off and the other to blurrily gaze at the image of my parents on myphone. It was on that same drive that had exposed my pregnancy to my brother, but that wouldn’t be an issue anymore. He’d never snoop and see anything on the shared cloud we’d once had as a family.
I blinked, straining to clearly see the defined images of my parents’ faces. My father’s almost-smile that he always had when he was mildly amused but didn’t think it warranted a full laugh. My mother’s easy grin as she peered at the camera, always having such a zest for life and never letting the sterner and disciplinarian side of her personality take over.
“I’m sorry,” I told them, wishing I could connect with them through this photo, this keepsake of a better time in the past.
They’d never reply. They’d never let me know if they were disappointed and heartbroken or understanding and sympathetic over what had happened.
I was alone, but I felt like I would never lose the sense of identity they’d instilled in me. To be strong and smart, to stay independent and confident. To think before acting or speaking and consider my weaknesses so I could learn how to improve.
That would always be a part of me. Their guidance would never leave me, and it was in that respect that I felt certain that they wouldn’t judge me from wherever their spirits could exist now.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”
Not Maksim.
It hadn’t entered my mind to stop my husband from killing Arturo.
I was so damn sorry to the bottom of my heart that I hadn’t stopped Arturo from making the decisions he had that had ledto this fate. That I couldn’t have pushed him to listen to me more. That I couldn’t have been there to guide him away from destruction.
But it wasn’t my fault. No one in this universe could ever force a stubborn man to change his mind on a decision. Not when the effects of a power trip ruled stronger than any advice anyone could have given him.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more. That I couldn’t have helped early enough,” I whispered as I continued to pace. Tears leaked from my eyes, but with every passing moment, the burn of them scalded me less. The urgency to cry waned as I kept putting one foot in front of the other and walked off this negative energy.
Apologizing to this picture wasn’t going to solve anything, but in this moment of conflict and heartache, it was the only thing I thought I could manage to do. Because sitting here and crying wasn’t going to change a damn thing.
Maksim entered the room suddenly, but his arrival wasn’t rushed.
One second, I was pacing and trying to get control of myself, and the next, he was there. Without a knock or any other warning that he was here, he opened the door and stepped inside.
No words. No actions.
He’d entered and let me know that he was present, a phenomenon I’d always register right away.
As I spun to face him, I angrily wiped away the last of my tears. “Sorry,” I muttered.
I had never in my life said that damn word more than I had in these last fifteen minutes of sorrow, anger, and disappointment.
He shook his head, striding straight toward me. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
