by Quin Perin
But I couldn’t.
Tony’s rapid footsteps came up behind me, but I turned around and placed my hand to his chest. He vibrated with anger. “What the hell are you doing here?” He snarled.
Eugene scoffed. “I’m not here for you,” he said. “I need to talk to Dima. I have an opportunity for him.”
“What you need is to get the fuck out,” Tony snapped.
I pressed against his chest and balled his shirt between my fingers, letting out a sigh. “Tony, it’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay.”
Tony growled but didn’t say anything else. I turned back to face Eugene. “You have nothing to say to me. Absolutely nothing. I don’t want to hear your voice. After everything you di—”
“I want you to model for me again.”
Eugene’s words cut off my rant and stunned me so hard I stumbled back into Tony. Eyes wide, my hands dropping to my side. I felt Tony inhale and then hiss out between his teeth.
“What?” I asked.
“I want you to model for me,” Eugene repeated calmly. “I made a huge mistake when I left. You were my muse. I did my best work with you.”
Shaking my head, I was sure I looked baffled. While Eugene could keep his face blank and emotionless when it came down to it, mine showed all my emotions. “You’re talking crazy,” I said.
“No, Dima. I’m sorry for what happened to you. What I did to you.” He almost sounded convincing. “But I need to talk to you. I’m not asking you to take me back or forgive me, but I am asking you to listen.”
“Dima,” Tony whispered to me.
I held up my hand. “I’ll listen. You have ten minutes,” I warned Eugene, stepping back to let him in.
“I only need five.”
Tony
I didn’t leave Dima’s side. Not when Eugene sat down on the couch, where we’d lain together, tangled in each other; not when he cleared his throat and started talking. Dima seemed nervous, feeling for a place to sit before he lowered himself next to him.
Dima and I wore sweats, whereas Eugene was all dressed up. All business. I had never seen a photographer who looked like that. Like money. He reminded me of my father and brother. They’d worn similar suits. Dark, almost black with a hint of stripes in them.
“Dima, a friend of mine saw the photos we took together, and he finds them as remarkable as I do. He wants to work with you on a campaign for one of his fashion lines in Paris.”
Dima’s hand reached for mine as I perched on the armrest of the couch.
“I’m organizing the shoot,” Eugene finally went on, “so it’d be like old times.”
Dima still didn’t speak. I looked at an image of Dima on the wall. His smile was brighter than the sun. Eugene followed my line of sight before he focused back on him.
“Dima, listen to me. We were great together, and this campaign is your chance to get back in the game.”
I could tell Dima was contemplating this, and so was I. He’d be in Paris, but I could easily follow him there, find a new job, write a new book. We could make it work.
“But if you want this, you can’t be with him.”
I stared at Eugene then, at the flicker of wickedness in his eyes, and I swear to God a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He was so full of shit. Us together was obviously something he hadn’t seen coming, and he wanted me out of the picture, quite literally.
That thought alone made me boil inside. I wanted to grab him by the collar and haul him up to stand, tell him to get the fuck out. But when I felt Dima wince and clench his fingers around mine, I knew... I just knew this man could revive the part of Dima I’d hardly caught a glimpse of. I squeezed his hand and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. I knew he was torn.
“No,” Dima breathed shakily. “I wouldn’t go without Tony.”
Eugene scoffed and dropped his eyes to our fingers. “He can’t come.”
“Why?” Dima almost hissed, gripping my hand harder.
“Because I don’t want him near you,” he said simply, barely suppressing the venom from seeping into his tone. “I came here to offer you a second chance. And if I don’t want to see his face”—Eugene stared me right in the eye—“then that’s how it is. It’s that simple.”
There was silence for a beat until Eugene sighed loudly and stood up from the couch. Dima hadn’t moved, hadn’t even tried to say anything. He looked torn between clawing Eugene’s eyes out and taking the chance he offered. In the end, we both knew something like this was unlikely to come around again.
“Alright then, congratulations on ruining your one chance of being something more than a baker at some tiny café.” Eugene stepped past us when I grabbed him by his forearm to stop him.
“Let me talk to him.” My voice was barely a whisper.
Dima turned his head to face me, surprised. I pulled him up and took him into the bedroom. Needless to say, Eugene watched every step we took. I wanted to hurt him, but if he’d give Dima something I couldn’t, I’d let him.
“What are you doing?” Dima asked as the door of the bedroom clicked shut.
I blew out a slow breath, my heart hammering inside my chest. I leaned my head back against the door, scraping together all the courage I’d gathered over the years. I’d gotten lost in the rainforest, had been robbed of all my money, threatened with knives and guns, and yet this would be the hardest moment I’d ever have to survive. Dima stood in front of me, expectantly.
He looked perfect.
And so sad.
“Do you want what he is offering?” I asked, making sure my voice didn’t waver. The storm inside me raged and rumbled. I was afraid it would get the better of me. I pushed off the door when he hesitated. “Dima.”
“No. I want you.”
“You’ll always have me,” I told him and drew closer, my hands cupping his face. His dark eyes were teary as he shook his head against my hold.
“No.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. For what I was about to do.
“When you’re with me, you’re barely half of who you used to be. I’ve seen the pictures you took. I’ve seen you on the beach...” That did it. Dima’s tears welled over, rushing onto his rosy cheeks. I pulled him against me. He wasn’t happy. Not like this. Not without his passion.
“That’s not true,” he muttered and hit my chest. But he knew it was. I’d seen the other side of him. It’d hurt me as much as it’d made me fall for him.
“Baby, shh, you know it is. You and me both,” I whispered against his forehead and kissed him there. The pain in my chest expanded. I wanted to tell him I loved him. But if I told him that, it would be too hard to watch him walk away.
Without me.
With my heart.
“Consider his offer. If it’s good, you go with him.” I wanted to be with him, but from the look in Eugene’s eyes, he’d take it all away if we so much as tried to make this work.
Dima bit back a sob, and for a moment it looked like relief washed over him. His tears trickled into my shirt. Ever since we’d been together, he’d had so many breakdowns, cried so much, I’d gotten used to holding him together. But right at this moment, I had to make sure I wasn’t the one breaking apart. My chest rose with my next inhale, his quivering lips against my collarbone.
“Talk to him,” I said, my eyes closing. Dima’s hand rested against my thumping heart, gripping my shirt there. It was damp with tears. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. Thank goodness he couldn’t see how it broke me. Or else he’d never leave. Never live his passion.
FORTY-FOUR
Dima
Once Eugene had left, Tony and I went to bed together. We made love or at least a close resemblance of it. Face-to-face. Breath and bodies mingling as we moved. Tony’s hands beside my face. My legs wrapped tight around him. Closer than I ever thought humanly possible. It was near perfect. We even came at almost the same time.
It would have been
like something from a dream if it weren’t for the sadness hanging over us, weighing heavily down as we lay together after. Tangled in the sheets, our legs twisted together. My head on his chest, the taste of sweat on my tongue. If I’d had any tears left, I probably would have cried again. But I didn’t. Wrung out and dry, my eyes ached, and I closed them tightly.
Eugene had consistently sweetened the deal while we’d talked, or rather, while he talked to me. He’d asked Tony to leave during our discussion, and Tony had left willingly. Eugene’s designer friend knew I was blind but didn’t care. Said it didn’t matter. No one would care, Eugene promised. As long as the pictures were good—and they would be—they were more than willing to work with me, and Eugene already had other projects in mind that could come after. We’d have to leave in a few days though, before Christmas. The pictures needed to be done shortly after the new year began. It would be so close to my old life. A future. A career beyond making cupcakes in a little café in a small town.
But all without Tony.
With him, I’d found the closest thing to a proper relationship I’d ever had. He wasn’t trying to use me. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of me. He cared about me. Maybe could even love me. And I...I’d fallen for him. Nice and hard. It was so different from being with Eugene. I didn’t want to leave him, but at the same time, I had a chance dangling in front of me I’d probably never be presented with again.
“Dima...you need to go,” Tony whispered. It was like he could read my mind when I was sad. Another of his tricks that made him such a good boyfriend.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I replied in a whisper. “Tony, I don’t know what to do.”
“You go.”
“But—”
“No,” Tony’s voice was firm. “No buts. Dima, I saw the way you looked when we did our little photo shoot. How happy you were. We’re good together. We’re really good together. But could you say for sure that you’d be happy, knowing you passed up the chance to live your old life? To live your dreams?”
I shrugged and nuzzled my face into his chest. The hairs tickled at my nose. “I think I could,” I said. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could. Tony made me happy. Made me feel good. It might not be the same, but it was pretty damn close.
“Only thinking you can isn’t good enough. You need to do something you know will make you happy.” He squeezed me close and rested his cheek on top of my hair. “Besides, I’d be a pretty bad boyfriend if I kept you from your dreams.”
I laughed at that and kissed his skin. “Tony, you’re too nice for your own fucking good.” I tried to make it sound light, but my voice was thick with tears I couldn’t cry.
Tony shrugged. “No, Dima, I’m not,” he whispered. “I care about you. And I want you to be happy.”
This was one of the most difficult decisions I’d ever had to make, and like the perfect, amazing man he was, Tony had made it for me. I’d never be able to choose on my own. I’d never be able to leave without his permission. Without his urging. “We could be a secret, long-distance relationship,” I offered. “That would be…” It would be something.
“No,” Tony said. “Dima, long distance causes so much pain, so much distraction... I can’t do it. Besides, if Eugene found out, everything would go to hell. Once you’re out there and meet someone, I don’t want you guilty, worrying about me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come back to this place. Not when there’s so much out there waiting for you. You got stuck here once, never again.”
“How would I ever meet anyone who could compare to you?”
Tony sighed at that. “Don’t,” he murmured, voice holding warning. “I am not your anchor. I am not holding you down, understand?”
I nodded but disagreed silently. I would never find someone like him. Ever again. I didn’t believe in cheesy shit like soulmates and people destined to be together. But I did believe what we had was something special. Something that would come along once in a lifetime.
He held me tight, a tremor running through his chest, and when I reached up, his cheeks were wet. I curled my fingers against his beard but didn’t say anything. Nothing I could say would make it better.
Would make this easier.
FORTY-FIVE
Tony
I stared at the open suitcase on the bed, filled with his clothes, shades of black and grey. Some white shirts, socks, underwear, a bag with his toiletries. I’d offered to help him pack. Jeez, I should have let Zoe do it for him. She’d been calling nonstop and offered to come back from her parents so she could help him pack. They’d talked for nearly three hours last night, and she’d promised to come and visit him in Paris.
Dima would leave.
Because I’d made him.
“Um, Tony?” I glanced back at Dima standing in the door frame of the bedroom, all dressed up in a dark turtleneck and grey jeans, accentuating his slim legs so very perfectly. I held back a sigh.
“Yes.”
“Could you check the top shelf in the closet? There’s something I’ll need up there.”
“Sure.” His closet was mostly empty by now, only a few boxes neatly stacked at the bottom. I reached up, a thin item rolling right against my fingertips. I pulled out a white cane with black rubber at the bottom and the top. Oh. I’d never seen him use it. He was so accustomed to his surroundings here, knew every street, had learned everything by heart, it never occurred to me he’d need one of these.
“Got it.” My voice must have come out all croaked and scratchy because Dima gave me a sad smile. I handed him the cane and helped his hand through the loop at the top. The air prickled between us, drawing me closer. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I’d told him to go. I’d encouraged him. Told him it was okay. I could deal. But soon enough I’d beat myself up for it. After all, he was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
“Dima,” I whispered when his fingers grazed along my stomach, tracing patterns there. He slid the cane along the inside of my calf and smirked. I chuckled at that. My kinky boy. But then the shrill noise of the doorbell reverberated through the apartment, cutting our moment short. His smirk fell away. I stepped back from him and zipped up the suitcase before heaving it off the bed.
“All set.” I cleared my throat.
“I can’t do this,” he said and shook his head. I blinked at him, surprised. “How can I leave you like this? I don’t know...I…”
“Listen.” I placed the suitcase right next to him and cradled his face as I so often did. I made him look at me, his eyes closed. “It’s easy. You just say ‘Tony, I gotta leave now because if I can’t end the new year with you, then I don’t want to begin it with ya’.” I kissed him then, all soft and tender, so he wouldn’t say anything. His fingers curled against my beard, cupping my jaw with the cane right between us. God help me, no one had ever kissed me like that. It was more than a kiss, more than both of us wanted to admit. We never said I love you, never needed to. Our actions showed everything. Laid us bare before each other. Raw and unfiltered.
The next moments went by in a blur. I helped Dima into his coat, then tied his shoes. He could do these things himself, but he let me help him. The doorbell rang again.
Bastard.
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek as I came up from my crouch. Dima was all ready to go. Cane in hand, scarf around his neck, coat buttoned, and shoes on. He looked as if he wanted to kiss me again, head angled back, the expression on his face hopeful and sad.
But I couldn’t do it.
Or I’d never stop.
I grabbed the suitcase next to him and opened the door of the apartment. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Not one inch.
“Tony.”
The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine.
“We have to go.” My voice cracked. His fingers reached out to tangle in my shirt. I shook my head and pressed my lips together.
“Tony, I gotta leave now because if I can’t end the new year with you, then I
don’t want to begin it with ya.”
I coughed out a laugh at his failed attempt to copy my accent, my eyes teary. Dima smiled and kissed the side of my shoulder before he stepped past me.
I carried his suitcase downstairs, the key to his apartment in my pocket. He’d told me he wanted me to stay and we could figure out the lease later, but I wasn’t gonna stay. Without him here, there was no point in being there. Eugene waited by the cab, studying his phone when Dima opened the door. He looked up and pocketed his phone, wearing leather gloves and the same long, black coat he’d worn when he’d walked into the café.
“There you are,” Eugene said with a fake smile that made me want to rip his face off.
Instead of doing that, I handed him the suitcase. He gave a clipped nod and hooked his hand into the crook of Dima’s arm. What Dima had ever seen in that guy was beyond me. Dima stilled as Eugene was about to open the door to the cab. We’d been going over our options all night long, but there was no quick fix. No magic solution and I couldn’t do long distance. It would be too hard. As Dima looked back over his shoulder, like he wanted to take one last look at me, I pressed my thumb and forefinger into the corner of my eyes and turned away. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t see him off.
“Bye, Dima,” I said instead, not facing them. The door of the cab snapped shut moments later. Then the trunk thudded closed. Eugene didn’t say one more word before he got in right afterward. God, how I wished Dima would still be standing there when I turned around. The motor roared on, wheels moved. I blew out a breath and, hopeful as I was, opened my eyes.
No Dima.
No trace of him.
No trace of my heart.
It was gone, just like him.
FORTY-SIX
Dima
It had been a long time since I’d been somewhere as crowded as the airport, and it was overwhelming. Loud voices constantly crackled from the intercoms. People spoke, shouted, laughed, cried, creating a swell of noise crashing over me. It strangled me. Made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded, raced.