Page 61 of Dirty Grovel

His eyes pop. “You don’t honestly believe that?”

“I killed my sister. I killed my girlfriend. I killed my father. What do you call that?”

“Bad fucking luck.”

“Then you’re delusional. But I’m not. No matter what Sutton says, no matter how many contracts she signs, she will always be the girl in the princess dress dreaming of her Prince Charming. I can never be what she wants me to be.”

“No harm in trying.”

I shake my head. Artem doesn’t understand. No one can understand.

The last time I gave my whole heart away freely, I destroyed the ones I loved.

Why would I do that again?

19

SUTTON

When it comes to distractions—boy, does the Savin family deliver.

It’s been almost four days of impromptu pool parties and ocean dips, of ice cream in the mornings and late-night conversations with Faye while she nurses little Aria.

There’s something wonderfully comforting about having Faye around.

Maybe it’s the maternal glow she wears like a coat of armor.

Maybe it’s her calming presence, her honey butter voice, the way she mothers me just as much as she mothers her own children.

Maybe it’s the fact that I miss my sister and have no idea when I’ll be able to see her.

For whatever reason, I lean on Faye, probably more than I should.

In my defense, she seems to enjoy spending time with me, too. Most days, we’re chained at the hip, running after kids, makingschedules, assembling PB&J sandwiches and packing picnic lunches to take into the garden or down to the beach.

I’m starting to suspect that there’s a “divide and conquer” scheme happening behind our backs—because for every minute that Faye spends with me, Artem spends an equal if not larger portion of time with Oleg.

We barely see either of them during the day. And there’s the odd night or two when the men go out on the boat.

Sometimes, I catch a tiny little silhouette in the distant waters and I imagine what the two of them are murmuring in the dark.

I’m on my way to the kitchen for a snack when I hear Faye’s voice, raised in anger.

Freezing on the spot, my ears perk up, trying to figure out what she’s upset about. As far as I’ve been able to decipher, she and Artem have a flawless relationship. They parent together so seamlessly that they make it look easy.

The fact that she seems pissed off at her husband feels a little out of character.

“… I know, honey…”

“Don’t you ‘honey’ me,” Faye snaps. “This has gone on long enough… something needs to be done…”

“I’m trying?—”

“Tryharder!”

Artem’s voice drops low, which means I can barely hear him. I sidle a little closer, but I only pick up the odd word here and there.

“… Be patient… things take time… Stubborn…”

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