Confusion: (a love story)

  On the way back into town we pass by Hopkins Center and I ask Annette to drop me off there. It’s the art building and houses the theatre and scene shop and I figure that now is my only chance to stop in and say hi to Grigori. I wonder through the main shop and there is no one there so I head over to the small wood shop.

  Grigori is sanding the wood for what looks like a small bookshelf and I lean against the doorjamb to watch. The shop smells like wood shavings and oil and for a moment I really miss spending time here. Grigori moves around the room like it is his home. It is times like this that he is most handsome.

  He is tall and broad and his entire body is covered with a thick layer of muscles. He has blonde hair and ice blue eyes that seem like they can see right through you. He is wearing a black t-shirt stretched tight across his arms and chest and black pants. It is always the same outfit whether he is in the shop or at the premier of a show. He must be very easy to shop for.

  My friends would be very sorry to miss this. They are all in love with him and talk incessantly about how hot he is. He is only 28 so the age difference isn’t enough to keep them from hoping, but I never really went for the fantasies about professors. But the truth is, I didn’t want to tempt fate with an entire summer in Russia. My friends thought I was crazy to say no. I knew it was the only way to keep my sanity.

  I see a hint of a smile cross his lips and I realize that he knows I am watching him. I say a small prayer of thanks that he doesn’t know what I am thinking but it probably doesn’t take much to know that I am appreciating the view.

  “Grigori.” I smile and walk into the room. “Where is everyone? And are we making a bookshelf.”

  “We are.” He smiles widely. “People have been in and out all day, I am sure someone else will be along soon.” He hands me a biscuit joiner and shows me his drawing and before I know it I am back at work. I ask him to tell me all about Moscow and the shows that he is working on and as we talk and laugh I know in the back of my head that time is moving quickly.

  I am also reminded of why Grigori always made me nervous. He is never inappropriate but there are constant little touches. When we exchange a tool his fingers drift over mine. When he passes by he gently touches an elbow or my arm. He stands closer than is strictly comfortable. I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it’s just cultural, but it leaves me feeling alert. Eventually the conversation turns around to me.

  “Why did I not know that you broke up with Christopher?”

  “He broke up with me actually. Left me for one of his interns, believe it or not.”

  I pause and smile while Grigori goes on one of his little rants in Russian. Eventually he catches himself and looks at me. He almost spits his summary, “Idiot.”

  I give him an appreciative nod and continue.

  “It’s only been a week actually. And no, I didn’t think to e-mail every professor I’ve ever had to tell them I broke up with my boyfriend.” I give him a sideways glance and he smiles. I’ve always teased him a little and I think it’s one of the things he likes about me.

  “I’m hurt Isabella. I’m gone for a few months and now I’m just one of the many professors you have ever had? I thought I was special.” He teases me back.

  “Oh yes, very special. Now how do I know you again?” He smirks but uses the opportunity to turn the conversation to Nathan.

  “Speaking of how you know people, when did you become friends with Nathan Graham?”

  “He’s spending the summer in the lab I am working for now. I’m just getting to know him.”

  “I never figured you as the type to hang out with arms dealers.” He says with a slight edge to his voice. I look at him but can’t tell what is going in behind those icy blue eyes. I am irritated at the remark and curious as to how he knows about the family business.

  “He’s an engineer.” I repeat Nathan’s line a little defensively and move around the table to hold the shelf together while Grigori nails it into place.

  “They aren’t the kind of people you should be spending time with, Isabella. Do you really think you can trust them?” Why does he talk about them as if he knows them? He is moving closer as he tacks in each successive nail.

  “I’m not sure what you are talking about, Grigori. Besides, would you prefer that I hang out with artists? Because artists are so trustworthy?” I give him a sarcastic glance. “It’s not going to happen. I’m out Grigori, and I don’t think the arts world misses me very much.” I squat down to give Grigori some room to put the next nail in place and he stands behind me and leans over me. When he is done he stands upright but he does not move away.

  I manage to stand without touching him, which is amazing given that it feels like there are only inches between us and I am all but pressed flat against the bookshelf. He tilts his head closer and says lowly into my ear, “That is where you are wrong. The arts world misses you very much.”

  The comment courses like electricity down my spine. I curse silently for putting myself in this situation to begin with. I have always known that Grigori is a man who gets what he wants and that I should never put myself in the position of being what he wants. Grigori steps away to grab another nail and I take the opportunity to slide around the table and towards the door. He looks at me and knows that he took it too far and that I am running. I watch his face as he thinks about it and then decides to let me go.

  “Ya drug ot Isabella Scott.” He says reassuringly.

  “Ya drug ot Grigori Bashmakov.” I answer. I look him in the eye and give him a small smile to let him know that I mean it.

  A few minutes later I find myself at Nathan’s hotel room. I’m still a little unsettled by the interaction with Grigori. I thought about going home, but I don’t have my keys. I give a soft knock and the door opens almost immediately.

  Nathan is standing there is a pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt that turns his eyes the color of the ocean. Just seeing him causes my discomfort to fade. I see Eric sitting at the bar in the kitchen looking tense and I hope that he hasn’t been given too much grief for dropping me off.

  Nathan pulls me into the suite and closes the door behind me. It throws me off a little because he seems a little uncertain, almost timid.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I thought you would be here when I got back, I wouldn’t have left if I...”

  “Oh no, sorry I took off. I wasn’t planning on staying last night and I already had plans with the girls.”

  “No it’s fine, I just didn’t know. We didn’t talk. I was just worried.” He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me and we both take a deep breath and settle into the comfort of each other’s bodies.

  “You smell like a barn,” he mumbles. “And...sawdust?” He pulls me back far enough to look at my face and I am sure that I look guilty. There is no reason to feel guilty, of course. I was visiting a professor in a public space. But I know that Nathan will not be happy about the thought of me being anywhere with Grigori.

  “Yeah- I stopped by to talk with Grigori on the way back. I was helping him with a bookshelf.” I can see the muscle along his jaw tighten as he turns to walk toward the kitchen. His next question is to me but he is looking directly at Eric when he asks.

  “And who else was there?” His tone is flat but the underlying tension in his voice puts me on edge.

  “Well I was only there for a few minutes but he was working alone really.”

  “Alone with you.”

  “Yes.” I follow him towards the kitchen and I’m starting to get irritated at feeling defensive. “Is that a problem? I have known the man a lot longer that I have known you.”

  “Yes but you don’t really know him. He’s not the kind of person you should spend time with, especially alone. You really can’t trust him.”

  “Funny, that’s pretty much what he said about you.” Nathan turns to look at me and for a minute I think he is about to lose his temper. The intensity of his glare would cause bunnies to burst in
to flames, but it only makes me angrier. I give him my best glare in response. We seem to be making Eric nervous and he stands. I can’t tell if he is getting ready to leave or ready to intervene, but I’m relieved to see my purse and keys on the counter in front of him.

  “I’m being serious, Isabella.”

  “So am I, Nathan.”

  “I want you to stay away from him.” I can feel my face redden at his arrogance.

  “That’s really not for you to decide.”

  “Listen to me.”

  “No you listen to me. I have known him for close to three years and during that time he has taught me a great deal about scenic design, offered me an amazing apprenticeship, and once stood too close to me. I have known you for 8 days and during that time you have forcibly carried me out of a bar, lured me into your bed on two separate occasions, had your private security- some guy I don’t even know- go through my apartment including my underwear drawer, and tried to tell me who I could and could not talk to.”

  We stand, watching each other for what seems like an eternity. I can see that he is angry but that he is trying to be very careful about his next move. He at least shows some wisdom in deciding against arguing with me. There is nothing to argue about, it is all true. Finally, his face softens and he starts to move toward me. I panic a little and move over to grab my purse and keys from the counter. I start to back toward the door and put my hands up in front of my chest.

  “No. Uh uh. You are not going to kiss your way out of this.” I see a flicker of a smile cross his lips. “You take tonight to think and we will talk tomorrow.” But before I reach the door he has his arms around my waist and is pulling me against his chest. My body is a traitor to my principals and I feel myself leaning into him, melting onto his form. I make one last stand.

  “Nathan, I don’t like to be told what to do. You are really overstepping and if you want me to trust you then you will have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you. It’s everyone else I am worried about.” He kisses the inside corner of my lips and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to stay focused.

  “But I’ve only known you 8 days. It is not your job to worry. And, I have a full and busy life. You’re just going to have to figure out how to not worry about me when I am not with you.”

  I lean in and give him a deep kiss. My entire body warms and he tightens his grip. I lose myself for a moment in the playfulness of his tongue and fullness of his lips. I could kiss this man forever, but if I am taking this relationship seriously I also need to maintain some boundaries. So I step back and scoot out the door before he can stop me.

  Chapter 11

  By the time I make it back to my apartment it is close to 5:00. I take a minute to call my mom and Eliana to check in and then head off to the bathroom for a nice long bath. As I soak, I think about everything that has happened in the past few weeks. The thing that strikes me the most is that I haven’t really missed Christopher and that makes me wonder how long our relationship has been dead. I can’t help but feel like I have dodged a bullet and I am grateful to Nathan for showing me that there are men like him in the world.

  Don’t get me wrong, I doubt that Nathan and I will end up together. As irritating as he can be, I know that his money and the fact that he is so physically devastating mean that he could have his pick of women. I may make a fun plaything in the woods of New Hampshire, but I can’t imagine that it will last beyond the summer. He has a real life to get back to and will likely be happy to have a girlfriend that will listen when he tells her what to do.

  But to know that there are men out there who can make me laugh and then argue an intellectual point, are playful and teasing in one minute and offer mind blowing sex in the next. If I found one, there have to be others. I can’t believe I was going to settle for Christopher. I should send Stephanie a thank you note. I actually giggle out loud before slipping under the water completely to wet my hair.

  But washing my hair brings me back to Nathan. I have little snapshots of that night in the bath flickering through my brain and my body is almost pained by the wish that he were here with me now.

  I need some way to find my balance with him. I don’t understand why he is being so difficult. He acts like he is actually worried about my physical safety. OK, so someone was in my apartment a few days ago but there haven’t been any other things that I’ve noticed and I still think it was Christopher. But then Nathan said that Eric doesn’t believe that it was. What are they not telling me? And why is he so bothered by Grigori? They both seem to know each other- or at least know of each other. Why would they overlap?

  I have more questions than answers so I climb out of the bath to do some research. After throwing on Nathan’s t-shirt and a pair of black yoga pants I run a brush through my hair and sit down with my computer. I google Nathan and start to understand why he was surprised that I knew his papers but not his father. It isn’t until the third page that his academics come into play. Before that there are hundreds of mentions of him with regards to his father and the company. Apparently he was given 40% of the company and a seat on the board for his college graduation present.

  There are also a ton of pictures. He is posed next to politicians and visiting dignitaries, onstage at presentations and conferences, and with his father in Forbes. Only one is with a woman and when I open the page it is Sarah. She is tall with long dark hair and dark eyes and looks like an Italian supermodel. They look perfect together and Nathan’s looking at her like he is in love. It makes my stomach turn to see it and to know how undeserving she was. I’m stuck again by how incredibly beautiful she is. If this is the kind of woman he is used to, then we may not even make it through the summer.

  I decide to try Grigori and I’m not surprised that there is plenty to read. There are stories about his sets and openings in cities all over the world including New York, Paris, Moscow, and London. There is a mention of his time at Dartmouth. And there are also hundreds of pictures of him with beautiful women on both arms. I laugh at the realization that the women are never the same but his clothes never change.

  I’m a little surprised when I see myself in one of the photos. It is at the opening of a show I designed last summer in New York for a small off Broadway theatre. Apparently one of the local theatre blogs did a review and caught a picture of Grigori and I as we walked out after opening night.

  I’m a little embarrassed to see that I look like a more subdued version of the hundreds of other girls. Someone scanning through would probably see me as just another groupie and wonder why his other arm was bare.

  After staring at the photo for a moment I realize that the same could be said for this picture as the one of Nathan and Sarah. Grigori and I actually make a striking couple with our blond hair and blue eyes. Even the look that he is giving me in the photo is similar. I can see the pride in Grigori’s eyes but another might confuse it as love. I shake my head and move on.

  There are a ton of pages in Russian that I can’t really begin to decipher. Some seem to be theatre related but there are several with pictures of him with look like the equivalent of Russian politicians. Finally I see a face I recognize but I’m surprised at the shot of Grigori out hunting with Vladimir Putin. It seems like neither of these boys really belong here in small town New Hampshire- or with me.

  I glance at the clock and realize it is midnight. I know I should get some sleep so I am able to think clearly when I talk with Nathan tomorrow so I make myself some Chamomile tea with honey and start turning out the lights. After I turn out the lamp in the living room I move the curtain a bit to glance out the window and almost drop my coffee mug.

  There is a man standing by the stairs to my apartment.

  I turn off the rest of the lights and then gently move the curtain again so I can get a better look. He is smoking a cigarette and staring out into the street so I don’t think he has noticed me. It’s dark so it is hard to make out his face but I can’t shake the feeling there is something familiar ab
out him. Finally, he turns his face toward the street light.

  I open the window and he turns to look up at the noise. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that smoking is bad for you?”

  “You have, a million times.” He grins up at me as I roll my eyes.

  “Corporal Aubrey, I’m curious as to why you are standing under my window.”

  “That’s First Sergeant Aubrey to you ma’am. And I rather not talk about it in the street.” He looks around again as if to make his point.

  “First Sergeant huh? Well bring your fancy pants up here so we can talk about it then.”

  He is easily at the top of the stairs by the time I open the door and I can’t help myself from throwing my arms around his neck for a hug. He wraps one arm around me and grabs the railing with the other to steady himself. “Easy there Is, you’re gonna kill us both.”

  When I don’t let go he picks me up and sets me gently inside the apartment and closes the door behind us. I notice that he makes the extra effort to lock the bolt. I take a step back to get a good look at him and find myself with my hands on either side of his face. He places his hands over mine and looks at me like he’s a little confused at my reaction.

  “What are you doing here Aubrey? It’s good and all, I’m really just happy to see you alive.” He tilts his head to the side and a lock of brown hair falls unto his forehead. I can tell he is trying to figure out where all of this emotion is coming from. Embarrassed, I try to distract him from the tears I am sure are gathering in my eyes. I reach up and tug gently at the errant brown curl, “And that is not a regulation haircut.”

  It seems to work and his laugh releases us both. I turn back to the counter to pick up my tea and then move to make him a cup as well.

  “I’m retired actually. So you can call me Jackson.” He notices when I turn to look him over and he knows I’m checking to see if he is injured. “Nothing like that,” he smiles. “My mom got diagnosed with breast cancer last year so rather than re-upping I went home so that I could take care of her. I thought I would go back when she got better but...”