Amanda smirked. “Oh, I see. You must have found a really good deal with Aeroflot to accept such a long stopover when you only have ten days of vacation.”
“Amanda, I—”
“It’s OK, Rob. I get it. You still aren’t over Lena, even though she made her position abundantly clear. Are you hoping for a chance run-in while you’re in Moscow? It’s a small town, after all. Just a dozen million people, give or take a million.”
“Jeanne gave me both her home and her school addresses.” Rob offered Amanda a lopsided smile. “You think I’m pathetic, don’t you? I can’t blame you—I am pathetic. I’d promised myself to leave her in peace. And yet . . . here I am, planning to stalk her in Moscow.”
Amanda didn’t contradict his bitter comment.
He shook his head, as if baffled by his own behavior. “But this time will be the last. Once I’ve found Lena, I’ll do everything I can to sway her. I’ll use my irresistible charm—it’s worked on her before. And if she still won’t change her mind, I’ll give up on her for good.”
Amanda gave him a tired look and turned to leave. She stopped in the doorway and spun around. “You know, Rob, the good thing about this whole Lena debacle is that you’ve shown a level of constancy I’ve rarely seen in a man. So no, I don’t think you’re pathetic.”
As she stepped out of Rob’s office, she added without turning around, “Let me know how it went, Romeo.”
It was three o’clock when Rob finally arrived at Lena’s home address, but she wasn’t there. So he hurried to her school and waited in the large lobby close to the main entrance. He didn’t want to go looking for her inside, afraid she might leave the building in the meantime. He hadn’t been to Moscow since student summer camp four years ago, but he’d ascertained that the charming teahouse he’d found at the time was still in business. It wasn’t very far, and he could take Lena there for pancakes and a cup of warm chai.
A little after four o’clock he spotted Lena rushing down the central staircase that led to the lobby, a coat folded over her arm, a woolen hat on her head and a big smile on her face. He grinned and took a step forward. But his smile died and he stopped in his tracks when Lena halted in front of a guy in a suit, standing at the foot of the staircase. The Suit kissed her on the mouth and helped her into her coat. Then he took her hand and led her out of the building.
Rob remained where he was with his jaw clenched while his mind processed the images. Ten minutes later, he walked out of the building. It was getting dark. No longer warmed up by anticipation, Rob could now fully appreciate how freaking cold Moscow was in the middle of winter. The wind filled his eyes with tears that instantly turned into tiny icicles attached to his lashes. He rubbed them off with the back of his hand, took a deep breath of icy air that burned his lungs, and hailed a cab to take him back to the airport.
During their customary after-work drink two weeks later in Bangkok, he filled Amanda in on his missed meet.
“And thus ends my sad tale of foolhardiness and frozen ass. From now on, you are officially authorized to punch me in the face if I ever mention Lena’s name again. Oops, I just did. Go on, punch me!”
“I didn’t know you were such a drama queen.” Amanda laughed, waved at the waiter, and ordered two vodka lemons.
When he raised an eyebrow at her unusual choice, she said with a playful smile, “Seemed appropriate to mark the end of your Russian affair.”
A few more vodka lemons later, Amanda declared she was ready to turn in. As it was past midnight, Rob insisted on walking her home.
“You want to come up for a coffee?” she asked just as he was about to leave.
“Sure, why not?”
But he didn’t get any coffee, not until the next morning. Once inside her apartment, Amanda began to unbutton her shirt. Rob bent his head and kissed her. She tasted of lemon and vodka.
Amanda put her hands on his chest and leaned away a few inches. “You don’t have to . . . continue this, if you don’t want to do.”
“Oh, but I want to.”
He kissed her long neck, admiring its elegance. She was beautiful. She’d always been there for him. She knew him and understood him like no one else.
This was bound to be as good as their friendship.
In this relentless, laughing city,
I dream of meadows stretching far,
Till laughter fades, and I am giddy
With pain, the escort of my heart.
Marina Tsvetaeva
ELEVEN
“May I also suggest this adorable sleep set that matches with the vests you’ve picked?” The shop assistant held an apple green item in front of Lena.
“It’s lovely. I’ll take it.”
“And how about this wool cardigan? Cardigans are a must-have for winter babies.”
Lena ran a gentle hand over the tiny garment. It was soft and heart-wrenchingly small. “Are you sure it will fit?”
“Our sizes are on the large side, so it will definitely fit.”
Lena purchased the items and continued her Christmas shopping. She had already bought a ridiculous amount of presents for Katia, her newborn half-sister. The little thing had arrived a week ago—red-faced, helpless, and adorable. Anton spent all his free time with her, looking acutely happy. Anna was swinging between depressed and ecstatic every half hour or so. Lena had never seen her so moody before.
She walked into a tie shop where she often bought her father his colorful hand-sewn silk ties—the only touch of personality he allowed in his sober business attires. When Lena was younger, she would beg him to wear brighter clothes, but to no avail. Anton’s aversion to color had been a mystery to her until three years ago, when she got him a fashionably lilac shirt for his birthday. Two weeks later, she spotted that shirt on his driver. She got upset. That was when Anton asked her to follow him into his walnut and glass walk-in closet.
“Let me show you something.” He opened a sliding door at the farthest end of the closet and yanked a hanging garment bag down from the rail.
“Daughter mine,” he said as he uncovered a hideous jungle green double-breasted blazer. “You won’t remember the nineties—you were too little—but this is what I used to wear back then, like every other wannabe oligarch in Russia. I had more blazers like this one, in different colors.”
Lena eyed the jacket. “It’s absolutely dreadful. And it looks like it’s made of polyester.”
“That’s because it is made of polyester.”
“Wow,” said Lena.
“When I had my first meeting with international partners, who were all dressed in gray wool, I felt so self-conscious that I made a crappy deal that I regretted the moment we signed the papers. I’ve never worn color since.”
“So why have you kept it during all these years?”
“As a reminder.” Anton pulled the garment bag over the blazer and turned to Lena with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Or maybe because I secretly still love it and wear it when no one can see me.”
Lena giggled.
Anton said in a more serious tone, “It has to do with who I am. No amount of money can change the fact that I’m a frugal factory worker’s son. So I simply can’t bring myself to throw away a piece of clothing that isn’t worn out.”
Anton returned the blazer to its remote corner and drew the closet door shut. “Well, now my dirty little secret is out of the closet, so to speak. But I count on you, Lena, not to reveal it to a living soul.”
“Your secret is safe with me . . . but there’s a price. I’m going to continue buying you colorful ties, and you’ll wear them.”
Anton sighed in resignation. “It’s a deal. But only the ties. Don’t even think about getting me red socks for Father’s Day.”
Ever since the “closet episode”, Lena had respected Anton’s sartorial wishes to the letter. If she bought him clothing, it was monochrome. The only the notable exception were the ties. This time she picked vermillion red and magenta. She was about to head to the ca
shier when it dawned on her that she should also buy something for Dmitry. That’s what young women did at Christmastime—they bought presents for their boyfriends.
After Anna’s memorable fundraiser, Lena and Dmitry saw each other almost every day. Dmitry was conducting an old-fashioned unhurried kind of courtship that Lena had believed extinct in the twenty-first century. They had spent a month filled with outings, get-togethers and excursions before she’d admitted to herself these were dates. He hadn’t made the slightest attempt to spend the night with her.
They were past the hand-holding and kissing milestones, though. And a couple of days ago Dmitry stroked Lena’s cheek in a way she could only describe as erotically charged. It happened when she read him her favorite Pasternak poem. Why on earth she couldn’t bring herself to read her translations to him, Lena couldn’t fathom. Dmitry’s French good and his critiques of her academic writing insightful.
The only thing that annoyed her was that Anton wasn’t pleased with their relationship. When she asked him why, he initially brought up their age difference. But he stopped after she remarked that he wasn’t the ideal person to lecture her on the subject, what with him being happily married to a woman twelve years his junior. So now, he’d just say that Dmitry was wrong for Lena. He couldn’t specify why or how—just wrong.
Which was exasperating because the way she looked at it, Dmitry was uniquely right for her. A solid, reliable and open-minded man, he practiced kung fu and meditation. He was a good person. He made her feel magnanimous and beautiful—a balm for her bruised heart.
He would cherish her. He would protect her from the world.
* * *
Lena woke up to the ring of her phone that felt like a fire alarm blaring inside her head. She fumbled for her watch—it was past noon. Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding. She had spent the previous night in the company of her father, Anna, and a few other family members and friends celebrating the New Year and Anna’s birthday, which fell on January first. Lena had enjoyed herself and had returned to her apartment at three in the morning—an hour Anton would have strongly disapproved of, had she not been partying with him.
She scrambled to her desk and picked up the phone. Her hello came out so husky it was hardly audible.
“Hi, darling, are you all right?”
Lena cleared her throat. “I’m fine—just had too much to drink last night, I guess.”
“I see,” Dmitry said with slight edge in his voice.
He had told Lena several times he didn’t expect to be invited to Anna’s birthday party. And he’d made other plans for New Year’s Eve, anyway.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked, his voice more cheerful.
“Yes, but it’s OK. I don’t like getting up late, it ruins the whole day for me.”
“Listen, how about I get some fresh croissants and then make us an omelet. We can have an improvised brunch. Do you have any eggs?”
Lena smiled. Dmitry didn’t do improvised, which was why his efforts to make it sound as though the idea had just occurred to him were so endearing.
“Yes, I’m sure I have eggs, and butter, too. I may even find some milk. So let’s see how good your omelets are.”
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
Lena would bet anything in the world that he would be, too.
When he arrived, she was fully awake and presentable. He handed her the bag with croissants, went straight to the kitchen, and washed his hands. Turned out his omelets were really good, or maybe Lena was really hungry. She finished her serving in record time and reached for a croissant.
Dmitry took much longer to finish his serving. He was suspiciously quiet and preoccupied. But before Lena could ask what was bothering him, he rummaged in the pockets of his jacket and placed a small black box in front of Lena.
She swallowed hard and stared at the box. It couldn’t be . . .
“Lena,” he said, looking down at his plate. “I . . . I’m going to say this quickly, because it isn’t easy.” He paused to take a long breath.
Her muscles tensed. She didn’t want him to say it. She wasn’t ready for him to say it. She’d been expecting Dmitry to make a move to deepen their relationship, but this wasn’t exactly the kind of move she had anticipated. And yet . . . how could it be otherwise? Dmitry was so old-fashioned and chivalrous about the whole courtship thing. He probably felt he couldn’t sleep with her without having proposed first.
He looked up at her. “I adore you. You are all I’ve ever dreamed of in a woman. Will you be my wife?”
He opened the box that contained an expensive-looking engagement ring.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we . . . get to know each other better before contemplating marriage?”
“Lena, I’m thirty-five years old, and I’ve had enough relationships in the past to know what I’m doing. If you feel you need more time, then by all means, take as much time as you need before giving me your answer.”
She nodded.
“I just want you to know where you stand with me.” He shut the box, put it into Lena’s hand, and closed her fingers around it. “Will you keep this while you’re considering my proposal?”
She nodded once more.
After he left, Lena began to pace her living room, the velvet-covered box burning her balled up hand. She had been comfortable going out with Dmitry, holding hands with him, even kissing him. She thought she was ready for more, but not so much more. And it wasn’t because she doubted he was her Mr. Right. She didn’t. It was because she still hadn’t been able to purge her heart of her Mr. Wrong.
It had now been five months since she last saw Rob, but he continued to burst into her thoughts every day, unannounced, and usually at most inconvenient times. And each time, she needed all her cool and composure to clear the bittersweet poison that lingered on her tongue after those incursions.
* * *
“Wow, Lena!” Anna sat down and blinked a few times, processing the news. “You’re still very young. You need to think about this seriously and take your sweet time.”
“That’s my intention, but it won’t change the fact that Dmitry—”
“Yes, yes, Dmitry may be the perfect man, but you need to be sure he’s perfect for you.” Anna gently wiped Katia’s mouth and turned back to Lena. “Did you run the ‘last specimen test’ on him?”
“Um, I’m not sure I know what that is.”
“So, you didn’t then. I knew it.” Anna shook her head and slid her chair closer to Lena. “My dear, you don’t want to marry someone without having run this test, believe me. It’s vital.”
“OK . . . if you say so. But since I have no clue as to what it is, will you save me from my ignorance?” Lena grinned, expecting a good laugh.
Anna smiled back and rolled up her sleeves. “Here goes. Close your eyes and imagine that humanity is about to be wiped out.”
Lena closed her eyes as instructed. “What’s causing Armageddon?”
“Nasty aliens. Or an evil genius. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you, Lena, have been marked to be spared.”
Lena rubbed her hands. “Because I have secret superpowers?”
“No, your number just came up randomly. But that doesn’t matter either. What matters is that you’re allowed to save one man—only one—by marrying him.”
Lena opened her eyes and gave her stepmother a quizzical look. “Anna, where are you going with this?”
“Stay focused and keep your eyes shut please. Now imagine that the man you’ll choose to marry will become the last remaining specimen of the human male on this planet. No alternative. No options. No escape. Till death do you part. Amen.”
Lena’s smile began to fade. She wasn’t finding Anna’s extravagant scenario as funny as she had expected. She opened her eyes and glanced at Anna.
The older woman was no longer smiling, either. “What I’m trying to get you to determine is whether you’re prepared to renounce all those oth
er men for Dmitry.”
“There are no other men. I’m not seeing anyone else,” Lena said, pretending to have misunderstood.
“Of course you aren’t.” Anna patted Lena’s hand. “What I mean is the possibility of other men.”
Anna gave Lena an expressive look that said, You know what I mean. And I know that you know.
“Listen to me, honey. After you’re married, there’ll be situations in your life when you’ll meet someone great. Someone handsome, clever, funny. Someone who’s not your husband.”
Anna looked straight into Lena’s eyes, daring her to imagine that guy. “A square-jawed alpha male with gray eyes?”
“Not impressed,” Lena said impishly.
“OK, then a dark, brooding beta. Whatever turns you on, baby. Hot guys come in different shapes and at most unexpected times. Maybe you’ll meet him through work, maybe through friends.”
When Lena began to bite her nails, Anna threw her hands up. “I’m not being mean. This kind of stuff does happen in life, Lena. All the time. And what if that hunk developed a crush on you? Would you prepared to forgo him for Dmitry? Would you be able not to flirt with him, not to encourage him, never to give him the slightest chance?”
Somehow, without any conscious decision on Lena’s part, the “hunk” morphed into Rob. And she found herself wondering. Would she indeed?
Anna continued her onslaught. “Would you keep asking yourself what it could be like with him? Are you in a place with Dmitry where there isn’t a shadow of a doubt in your mind that you’d give up on this other guy without hesitation and without regret?”
“I don’t know. Is it at all possible to be sure about this?” Lena asked honestly.
“Yes, Lena, it is. I was sure when I married your dad. I still am,” Anna said with a soft smile. “Can you think of someone in your past, an ex or an unrequited flame, who you’d feel that way about?”
The question gave Lena pause because the answer that formed in her mind immediately was yes. Yes, she could think of someone in her past who would have been enough, for whom she would have given up all other options without hesitation or regret.
What If It's Love?: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 1) Page 14