My secret. I traced my thumb along Cal’s lower lip. He was the best part of me and one of the only slivers I didn’t share. It wasn’t fair. Sometimes I considered the potential outcomes if I ever decided to be more forthcoming with the way I lived my life. I would imagine the reactions of my family, attempting to predict the words that would pass through their shock-dropped lips. I had no doubt my father would say something along the lines of wishing I had died with my mother, which would sting but be nothing compared to hearing the same sentiments as a young child. If I survived it then, I would survive it again. The issue was I didn’t think I would want to. Igor would crack jokes, and I would feel compelled to crack his jaw. He would use the information to set himself above me, as if it somehow made him a better man to be castrated by an angry little housewife. I could see the smug look on his face already. Igor was by far the most predictable, while Maks was anything but.

I wanted to believe Maks would be different. He’d always been more forward thinking than the other Mikhailovs, someone who immersed himself in the culture of ideas because he thought it would give him the depth our Russian family had not. Regardless of how much I wanted to believe Maks would be accepting, I wasn’t willing to double down on the chance. Though he annoyed me endlessly, I could not fathom what my life would be like if Maks chose not to be in it. Thankfully, I hadn’t had to.

“You were happy at the time,” Cal reasoned.

“And when they lost?”

“You weren’t shocked.”

“I’ll give you that,” I nodded. I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to get it together and get on with my day.

The numbers racket had been going exceptionally well, so well that after nine months I had solidified a thirty percent cut of Vlad’s profit. The income paid for some extras including a few Cub games, fresh fruits and vegetables, and all the milk I couldn’t actually get my hands on. While I wasn’t the proudest American patriot, I could not help but wonder how the farmers would have reacted to the collectivized farming of the Soviet Union, how they would have managed if they had been stripped of their autonomy in the way the Russian farmers had been.

“You’re so generous,” Cal said playfully, nudging his nose against mine.

“I’m feeling extra benevolent today,” I stated as I rolled on top of him. I kissed his lips and admired how beautiful he was.

“Oh, are you?” he asked, looking quite pleased by the admission.

“So much so that I’ll let you clean up the mess in the living room,” I joked, laughing at his unimpressed face.