Page 16 of His Prince

“Would it be too much to ask you all to smoke outside only?” I ask with a small smile.

They stare at me before Titus says, “That’s not how it’s done.”

“Well, as yourlittle husband, I’d like it done this way. So please take your cigarettes outside from now on.”

They glumly agree to it, two of them walking outside to finish their poison sticks and the others stubbing them out on the plates before them.

By the time they meander out of the house, I’m left with a large mess and Nina clucking at me from the hallway. Casey lingers as well, his body leaning up against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he watches me carefully.

He’s always worried for me, like a mother hen. He won’t let this go. Not when my disappointment and hurt are so clearly painted across my face.

“You’ve opened a can of worms, boy,” Nina tells me grumpily as she moves through the kitchen, gathering the plates and putting them in the sink, but I ignore her, feeling my cheeks heat at her proclamation.

I sure hope I’ve opened the can of worms. I hope they wriggle in all the hidden spaces of this place.

Plus, everyone shies away from worms, but in gardening they’re so valuable. They provide so many nutrients to the soil and a better soil structure. Maybe that’s what will happen in this cold, dark, and dreary place.

Maybe this can of worms I’ve opened will do wonders for this place.

For my breaking heart.

Nina turns the water on in the sink, bubbles piling up on the dishes as she grabs a piece of bread leftover on a plate, examines it, and then takes a small bite.

She won’t admit it out loud, but she’s enjoying the taste of home.

I make a note to have more of it shipped from the small Russian bakery in Maryland. I want her on my side as well.

I want Mikhail to come home to loyalties divided.

I want to make him as miserable as he’s made me.

“Casey, you really don’t need to hang out with me today. I’m not doing anything of importance. Just exploring and checking out the garden,” I say, still avoiding his watchful gaze.

He shakes his head and moves toward me to insist on being present, but Nina swats him away.

“He speaks indirectly, but you heard him. He doesn’t need you here.”

His eyes widen at her stern voice, his lips parting in frustration, but I wave him away.

“I promise I’m fine, and I’ll tell you if I need you.”

“You promise?”

“Of course,” I say with a wobbly smile.

He goes with an unsure backward glance, a papa bear always wanting to protect me.

But I don’t need protecting. I can manage on my own.

I get to work washing the dishes, Nina moving up next to me and helping me in stoic silence.

I murmur that she doesn’t need to help me with this, but she just tuts in that way of hers and continues to do so. Apparently, Nina has a way of getting what she wants as well.

And to be honest, I’m not sure if she’s helping because she feels sorry for me or because she wants her kitchen back to the completely clean and sparkling way it was. I don’t know why Mikhail has such a nice custom kitchen if he never uses it. What’s the point? Is it just a treasure to acquire, to show off and never use?

Is that like me?

Am I just a trophy he wants to prop up and display?