leaves me curled in on myself, on the kitchen floor, naked and covered in trash.
I soothe myself as I lie there by listing all the ways Jasper could die. He might get hit by a car. He could eat a rotten mussel. This is one of my favorites. I love to imagine him vomiting himself to death. What a way for him to go.
As much as thinking about my husband dying soothes me, my mind decides it wants other thoughts, and once more a boy with blue eyes and handsome features fills my mind.
Bohdan.
I remember when we first met. I was only eight and he was eleven, and we became friends. We hung out in the stairwell of our block of flats, with the other kids, and Bohdan somehow became my protector against the older children who teased and taunted us younger ones. Once the gang of kids knew he was watching over me, no one hurt me. No one stole my lunch or played tricks on me. Having Bohdan in my corner was like owning a magical cloak of protection.
A thought occurs to me then. A dangerous, errant idea. Would Bohdan protect me now?
He broke me, betrayed me, but he’d never hurt me physically. What would he do if he learned I was married to a man who made me lie amongst garbage? Would he even care?
Something tells me he would. The way he looked at me when I saw him for the first time in over a decade tells me he isn’t indifferent to me.
In fact, the way he looked at me told me he might hate me as much as I do him. It makes no sense because he was the one who betrayed me, but that’s men for you. They always must pretend they’re the ones in the right.
I turn my head and nearly gag when a fish head stares at me.
Rolling away from the rotting head, I close my eyes and try to go back to my happy place. The cataloguing of all the ways my husband could die. As I think these thoughts, I quietly sing an old Russian song, one I used to sing as a child with Bohdan.
Chapter Three
Bohdan
“I can’t believe you’re leaving it like this!” Justina is outraged that I’m not getting my nose fixed, and I don’t get it.
“What’s it to you?” I ask her with a smile.
We’re sipping at tea in the kitchen of the big house where she’s staying with Andrius and Violet. There’s myself, Cassie, K, and Justina, sharing a big pot of tea.
“Because you are beautiful,” Justina says. “You shouldn’t ignore a gift like that.”
“More like a curse half the time,” I say.
“He’s still handsome,” Cassie adds.
K growls, a low rumble that you can barely hear, but Cassie does because she leans into him and whispers. “Down, boy, you’re the one who does it for me.”
“I don’t see how beauty is a curse.” Justina shrugs. “It’s a privilege. Same as good health or being rich. You should use it to your advantage.”
“I like the way I look now,” I tell her. “Like Cassie says, I’m still handsome.” I shoot Justina a shit-eating grin, and she rolls her eyes. “I didn’t like the way I looked before.”
“I don’t understand what’s not to like about looking the way you did.” K surprises me when he speaks. “Women would sacrifice their newborn for a smile from you. Why would anyone want to throw that away?”
“Do you want women to go around with googly eyes over you?” Cassie demands of him.
These two.
“No, baby, but if I looked like Bohdan did and got my nose broken, I’d fucking fix it.”
“I hope you’d get it fixed now. You’re a handsome man.” Cassie smiles at K, and he grins back.
Ugh.
“Well, none of you are me,” I say. “Luckily for me, I’m not vain enough to need a perfect nose, which means I don’t have to go through the pain and risk of the procedure.”
“I bet you’ll get even more women,” Cassie says. “They like a guy who looks like you. Pretty but tough.”
“Sexy but rough,” Justina adds with a laugh.
“Why don’t you ladies just set up a fan club?” K bitches, but he doesn’t mean it. He knows Cassie is his, hook, line, and sinker. The girl wouldn’t look at another man, beyond the purely aesthetic appreciation of symmetrical features, while she’s got K. She doesn’t just love him; she adores him.
I wonder if anyone will ever adore me. Dasha did, once upon