There’s a reason I’ve avoided this room for so long. There’s a reason I tookdown all her paintings the moment she died and turned their faces awayfrom me.
“You don’t want to betray me? Then do me a favor, my love. Remember meas I really was.”
I wish I could. But sometimes, it’s easier holding onto dreams than reality.
Dmitri’s dark circles are glaring when he walks into the kitchen the nextmorning, oddly underdressed by his standards in gray sweatpants and aplain white t-shirt.
He nods silently and takes the stool opposite me. I can feel the unspokenconversation he promised me hanging in the air between us.
“You look like you had a rough night,” I say to break the silence.
“I was in her art studio. Didn’t get much sleep.”
I eye him from
