It was clear the moment I arrived that Misha wasn’t in the best mood. He’s claimed it has to do with a lot of different things—his concussion, physical therapy, tutoring lessons—but stops just short of saying, “Actually, this is all your fault, Natalia.”
He doesn’t need to say it. I already know.
“I can leave Remi, you know?” I offer for the third time since I got here.
He shakes his head. “No. Remi’s yours. Not mine.”
“It’s not forever,” I tell him gently, patting his wrist. “I just need some space from this place. And from Andrey.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot him again?” I raise my eyebrows and he flushes with instant regret. “Sorry.”
“Low blow, but I deserve it.”
“No… no, you don’t. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He picks at the orzo on his plate, pushing it around with his f
