Chapter 178 178

Chapter 178 178
“Your mom was my world. My life. I would have given up anything for her, would have done anything. But then she got sick, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.” He swallows, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. “I hated myself for that. I hated myself more than anything for not being able to get her the treatment she needed. And when I looked at how much you missed her, when I realized what a hole she had left behind, I knew I’d never be able to fill it. I knew I wasn’t enough.”

“So you didn’t even try.” It’s not a question or an accusation. It’s just a fact.

He shrugs weakly. “I thought you were better without me. I didn’t think I was worthy. Because, without your mom, I didn’t feel worthy. She was my everything. And sometimes, I think I would have been better off if I’d loved someone else a little less… does that make sense?”

Yes. The voice in the back of my head is nodding along. You care about Belle like that. It’s too much. It will ruin you both.

“None of it matters,” I grit out. “I managed fine without you. If you’re still tortured over how badly you fucked up, you can let it go. I’m great.”

“Are you… Is that your way of saying you forgive me?”

He’s gone perfectly still. I can feel him holding his breath. He’s been waiting for this, working towards this for months, years. I don’t give a shit about any of that. But at some point, not forgiving him takes more effort than just letting all of this shit go.

I shrug. “I don’t care enough to forgive you. Which means I don’t care enough to hold a grudge.”

“I’ll take it,” he says eagerly. “That’s part of why I came here. I wanted to ask for forgiveness. I wanted to—”

“I thought you came to congratulate me on my wedding.”

“That, too. Both. I saw you moving on with your life, and I just didn’t want you to carry your resentments towards me forward. Hate is poison, son. I can’t undo any of my choices, but I can try to make sure you don’t repeat my mistakes.”

“I’d never turn my back on my child,” I snap. “I’ll never repeat your mistakes.”

“God, I hope not,” my father murmurs. “Because I want more for you than that, Nikky. I’ve always wanted more for you.”

“And I have it. Now, it’s time for you to find more,” I say, realizing how genuinely I mean every word. “Let this shit go—me, Mom, your guilt—and move on.”

It’s only been a minute, but he looks years younger. He holds himself a little taller, lifts his head a little higher.

He smiles. I can see tears in his eyes, but he has the self-respect to hold them back.

Finally, he nods.

“Thank you, son. I really… This is what I needed. Thank you.”

He turns and shuffles away. But as he heads around the side of the house, disappearing back into the shadows, all I can wonder is whether I’m repeating his mistakes after all.

36

BELLE

I feel the familiar dip of his weight on the mattress next to me, and I can’t help but wonder when his body next to mine became so familiar. When did Nikolai become this foundational part of my life?

I roll onto my side and drape an arm over his chest like I’ve done it a million times before. His skin smells like the night—dewy and lush. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere.”

There’s a strange note to his voice. Something that wasn’t there when I fell asleep, but I’m drowsy and comfortable and it’s late. I let it go for now.

“You weren’t sleeping?”

“I’m not tired,” he says. But he sounds dead exhausted. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I was just thinking about when things switched,” I murmur, my eyes still closed.

“Switched?”

I feel the subtle shifts in his breathing as he responds, the way his chest rises and falls. It’s a steady thing. I squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah. Like, when things between us switched. When did we go from… whatever we were before… to this?”

“What is ‘this’?”

It’s embarrassing to have to define it, but Nikolai might be as new at this relationship stuff as I am. Neither of us know what we’re doing. There’s some strange kind of comfort in that.

“A marriage,” I say, sort of ducking the question. “When did we become two people who like each other and, for the most part, get along? We talk now. We’re honest with each other. It just feels… easy, doesn’t it?”

I listen to the in and out of his breathing, the thudding of his heart beneath his rib cage. I’m so preoccupied that I don’t immediately realize how long he’s been silent.

Finally, I open my eyes and sit up. “Nikolai?”

“I have to tell you something,” he says suddenly.

The bubble of bliss bursts in an instant. I turn to him, my pulse twice as fast as a second earlier. “Okay.”

He doesn’t feel the same way. You’re coming on too strong. Three amazing orgasms and you’re suddenly writing poetry and pretending you’re in a fairytale. And he’s going to rip it all away, watch him, brace for it, get ready because—

“I lied to you.”

I try to quiet the naysayer in the back of my head, but I can’t. As I watch Nikolai, his expression as unreadable as ever, every insecurity I’ve ever had comes rising up inside of me.

I inhale sharply and then force the air back out. If I keep breathing in and out, then I’ll be okay. Actually, that’s a lie—I’ve been through enough to know that’s not true—but it’s all I have right now.

“Lied about what?”

“About my family.”

“Your family? You mean… they died, right?” I say, repeating what I remember. “Your mom died and your dad killed himself.”

“That’s what I told you. That’s what I wanted to be true.”

I frown. “You wanted your mom to die of cancer and your dad to kill himself? What the—what does that even mean?”

Nikolai sighs. “My mom did die of cancer. That was true. But the other part… well, if my dad had killed himself, it would have been easier than the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

But Nikolai just sighs again and passes a hand over his tired face. He looks so weary suddenly. Like he’s been carrying the world on his back for so long and his legs are finally starting to tremble.

I groan. “Just tell me, Nikolai. I’m dying over here. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he says. “But I lied about my dad killing himself. My dad didn’t kill himself. He isn’t even dead. He was actually here tonight.”

My eyes widen. “Here? Like… here here? In the house? When?”

“After you fell asleep. He stopped by to see me.”

“You see him? Not only is he not dead, but he drops by for visits? I don’t understand why you’d lie about that. Is it because of my dad?” I ask. The words are all coming out in a torrid rush. “Did you feel bad that my dad was dead so you lied to me about yours?”

My stomach roils. I’m not with Nikolai because of his family or his past, but being with someone whose situation is just as messed up as mine has been comforting. And now, I’m finding out it was all bullshit.