“How,” I whisper, frozen, staring up at Ivan. “How did you know…”
And then his face falls as I basically admit it – this thing that he’s thinking, that he’s figured out. And I can see that I’ve really, really hurt him.
“f**k you, Fay,” Ivan whispers, his voice harsh with hate. “f**k you for picking that old, dead man over me. He’s f****d, Fay,” he shakes his head now as he stares at me like his heart is broken. “And I told you that, and offered you everything. And you picked him anyway.”
And I reach out for him, desperately unhappy at his words – and to see him so hurt – and at first he swats my hand away but then –
Then Ivan grabs me.
And he wraps one hand around my waist, and buries the other in my hair, and pulls me against him, and kisses me like a drowning man. Like I’m the
