“Jesus Christ,” I growl, running a hand through my hair. “What do you expect me to do, June? Sit down and have a friendly little banter with him? Shake hands and make nice?”

“Why not?” she pleads. “Why isn’t that an option? The two of you were close once.”

“Yeah, before he started blaming me for all his fuck-ups. I promised him I would protect him, June. I promised my mother the same thing.”

“So keep your promise.”

“That’s just the thing: I already did. For years. While Adrian kept screwing around and making one mistake after another, I kept that promise sacred. I could forgive his mistakes. I have forgiven his mistakes. But now, he’s actively working against me. I can’t just let that go unpunished.”

She covers her face with her hands. She’s frustrated; that much is obvious. But I’m equally frustrated. Equally fed up.

“No one gives a shit about making nice in this world, June. You don’t win prizes for being a good little girl.”

She recoils from me, her expression twisting with hurt. “I’m not after a prize, Kolya,” she whispers forlornly. “I just want… more than this. The fighting, the betrayal, the lying, the revenge. I want—”

“A fucking fairy tale, is what you want.”

She flinches, then lets it soften into something more melancholy. “What’s wrong with fairy tales?” she whispers. “They usually end with happily ever after.”

“Even you are not that naïve.”

She sighs. “Let me talk to Adrian.” She seems to realize she’s made a mistake the moment the words leave her mouth. She glances up at me as I do my best not to lose my fucking shit. “I just want to be the mediator—”

“Yeah, is that what you want?” I interrupt. “June the peacekeeper? June the common cause? June the fucking Girl Scout, here to save the fucking day?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not your enemy, Kolya.”

“No, but you’re speaking for a man who is.”

Her hand flickers over her belly. And the small kernel of doubt that I walked into this conversation with starts to grow. She admitted to having feelings for Adrian still. What if she was minimizing what she really feels?

What if she cares a lot more than she’s letting on?

I walk over and pick up the phone I threw. “You asked me to trust you when I brought you here,” I remind her. “Well, consider that trust rescinded.”

Then I storm out and slam the door. I can hear her walking towards the door, but I’ve already locked it by the time she tries to open the handle.

“K-Kolya?” she says, in confusion. “The door…”

She tries again before she realizes that I’ve locked her inside. “Are you serious? Kolya! Kolya! Open the door!”

She starts banging on it, but I walk away, unmoved by her screams. Outwardly, at least.

Inside, I’m a mess.

27

KOLYA

I’m on my way back to the gazebo in a misguided attempt at scrounging up any peace I might have left behind there when I find Milana in the foyer. She’s still got her shades on, which means she only just walked in.