His arm moves instinctively to his right leg. I’ve seen the ugly burn mark only a handful of times, but it’s still seared in my memory. That kind of scarring doesn’t happen without some serious pain and trauma behind it.
“I think last night was the first time the kid ever tried birthday cake.”
I process the words belatedly. “Why were you eating birthday cake?”
Shura takes another long sip of coffee. “Because it was Natalia’s birthday.”
I feel my pulse in my temples like a drumbeat announcing just how badly I f****d up. “You didn’t mention that to me.”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to. Would it have changed your mind about joining us?”
An old memory plays out in my mind. A flash of red and black streamers. White cake with ridiculous rainbow candles sticking out of the top. A laughi
