A Dance for Him

by Richard, Lara

  Who knows what it’s really about, who knows whom he’s trying to hide, and from whom? … Certainly not me.

  Besides, what claim do I have on him? We fooled around a bit in the last couple of days, and yes, we just had sex. Fantastic, mind-blowing sex, it’s true. But that was all, no promises were made on either end, the L word has never been invoked, and - well, to be honest - I’ve only known him for three days.

  Maybe they have an arrangement, for all I know. That’s probably not all that uncommon, in this line of work where people travel all over the place and aren’t that often in the same place at the same time …

  God, how stupid did I have to be to think that a man like him could not already have been otherwise preoccupied. He’s always been known to have an eye for the ladies.

  While I’d like to think that I don’t care about this Sofia, that we are all sophisticated people, I can’t help thinking, with a sudden, visceral despair that anything more than what we’ve just had would be impossible and impractical, because with a man like him there will surely always be other women, and even if this thing with Sofia is pure fantasy on the part of gossip columnists, there will probably be someone else to take her place …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Of all the times in the world she has to call me now! And it’s impossible not to reply to Sofia when she demands an answer - otherwise it’s just text after text and a déluge of voicemails. Not even rehearsal time is sacred. And of course since this is off-season she knows I’m not in the pit …

  Yes, she can be a bit overwhelming.

  So apparently she’s decided to visit me here, since I won’t visit her in Moscow, and of course she’s decided that she’s going to descend upon me and stay here with me. A crazy idea. No, Sofia, I texted her, I’m sorry, I can’t put you up here. Then she wanted to know why.

  Of course I’m going to have to tell her about Evie, but I didn’t exactly want to have that conversation this very moment, what with Evie waiting for me so close by.

  To be honest I’m not even sure why I think I owe Sofia an explanation, it wasn’t like we were dating, let alone exclusively. In fact, she made it very clear to me when we first fucked that she wasn’t into monogamy or anything more than having a good time. I told her that I wasn’t either (my standard disclaimer whenever I’ve slept with anyone in the past), and that was that. So I’m pretty sure she has no expectations of any sort on my end.

  On the other hand, I don’t want to be unkind, she’s terribly egotistic in some ways, it’s true, but it’s the careless egotism of a child, not malicious or anything.

  Anyway I told her that I couldn’t talk to her right now, but that I definitely couldn’t put her up here if she came to Venice. She rang off cheerily, with the sort of determined flirtiness of one convinced that she’ll charm her way into getting what she wants, which is too bad. I’ll probably call her tomorrow and explain the situation - that I’ve met someone, and that it’s serious, and that she’s staying with me right now.

  My guess is she’ll either congratulate me quite sincerely or have a massive sulk-fest, you never really know what to expect from Sofia.

  But she’ll just have to deal with it.

  There’s just something about Evie. I don’t know what it is, and I know it seems a bit mad given that I met her all of three days ago, but she somehow makes all my previous dalliances seem insignificant and empty.

  I’ve never had any trouble shuttling between women - hey, we’re all just out to have a good time, no strings attached - but now I can’t even imagine going back to that lifestyle.

  I’m just glad that now I have her to go back to! …

  “I’m back, Evie, sorry about that,” I say cheerfully as I open my bedroom door, only to find that she’s not there.

  Perhaps she’s gone back to her room? Or perhaps she’s downstairs? I try to reassure myself, but I don’t feel good about this.

  To my relief she pokes her head out of her room. She’s dressed again, it seems to go out - she’s carrying her handbag.

  “Evie, beautiful, what’s the matter?”

  She smiles, but it’s not that sunny, exuberant smile that I’m used to - it’s polite, calm, withdrawn. She can’t possibly be cross about Sofia, can she?

  I mean, if she looked annoyed, I would think she was jealous, and we could address that right away, but she doesn’t look annoyed, just a bit distant …

  “Nothing’s the matter,” she says. “I just thought I would go out for a walk. Clear my head, get some fresh air.”

  Fuck. Maybe she regrets sleeping with me? But why? She came twice, and seemed happy enough after initially.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up her parents, stirred up all those unhappy memories?

  God, I’m an idiot. Way to kill the mood right there, Renzo.

  Aloud I say, as I take her in my arms and kiss her forehead: “A walk sounds great, I could use some fresh air myself. Why don’t you let me get dressed and I’ll come along … and it’s lunchtime anyhow. I was planning to whip something up for us here but we can always stop by a restaurant instead. I know quite a few nearby that I’d like to take you to …”

  I’m babbling, of course, hoping somehow to confirm that she just wants to clear her head, as she says, and that she isn’t trying to run away from me somehow. My head is telling myself that my fears make no sense, and yet my gut is convinced that I’m going to lose her.

  At least she’s not resisting my embrace, but I can’t help feeling that something has shifted, and not necessarily for the better …

  She strokes my cheek - very tenderly, it’s true, and yet she doesn’t seem inclined to hold eye contact for long, which worries me …

  “Oh, Renzo,” she says in that lovely soft voice of hers, “it’s all right. You’re very sweet. But I need some time alone, I think. Just a few hours, just to think things through. So much has happened in the last few days, I -”

  I can feel the blood draining from my face, and she’s probably noticed that I’m looking stricken as well, because she pauses before kissing me lightly on the lips. “I want you to know that I don’t regret what we did, not one bit. It was probably the most beautiful experience of my life. But I just need to think, you know?”

  “I understand,” I say, trying not to look too agitated, although internally I feel sick, sick to the core. “I can expect you back in a few hours though, you said?”

  “Yes, Renzo,” she replies, and a brief hint of mischief - a brief hint of the charming, cheeky Evie who tried to seduce me by flashing her naughty bits at me - crosses her face. “All my stuff is here, Renzo. Of course I’m going to come back.”

  I can’t help but notice that she didn’t say she was going to come back for me, but on the other hand I’d much rather have mischief from her than melancholy. Perhaps I’m overreacting. I don’t want to behave like her father, after all - that would be rather unfortunate, given our particular circumstances! …

  “Well all right then, Evie. I shall miss you, you gorgeous creature, but I’ll live, if only to take you out to dinner tonight,” I growl, and kiss her again, this time passionately, as if to remind her of what we were doing earlier, as if to hint at what we could be doing later.

  She strokes my cheek, smiles, and slips out of my embrace; minutes later I hear the front door close.

  So I called Sofia, told her what was going on, and felt a lot better for it. It didn’t hurt that she reacted well - said she understood, but was still a bit flirty, in that sort of “call me if it doesn’t work out” kind of way.

  How little does she fathom what’s going on with me, what this thing with Evie means to me! …

  But now, hours later, Evie’s still not back, and I’m beginning to feel sick all over again. I called her a few times on her cellphone, but there’s been no response. Did something happen, or is she avoiding me?

  It would be devastating if she were trying to avoid me. And yet even that would be better than something terrible happ
ening to her, which I’ve been starting to fear.

  I wanted to go out and look for her, and I realised that she might not have the house key, and it would be awful if she got back here and found the place locked.

  I’ve left a message on Aurelia’s voicemail asking if she gave Evie a copy of the key, but haven’t heard back. Oh, Aurelia, I know I gave you the rest of the day off, but really, the one time I desperately need you to answer the phone …

  It’s killing me, I should never have let her go off on her own. What if something awful’s happened? I mean, I suppose it’s possible that she dropped her cellphone into the water somehow, or maybe got pickpocketed for it, but surely she’d have found her way back by now? She said a few hours, and I’d assumed that meant maybe two or three hours.

  It’s now been a bit over four hours since she walked out of here. I’m tormented by mad, paranoid, jealous scenarios - maybe someone picked her up. Maybe she picked someone up, to retaliate for my talking to Sofia.

  And what if she picked up someone who wasn’t just interested in sex, but someone who might actually harm her?

  When she told me about how Victoria had run off with someone else and broken her dad’s heart, I admit that I had a moment of hesitation about our relationship, a moment of worry that the same scenario would play itself out again with us. I mean, there I am, the older man, and there she is, another one of these fatal Smythson beauties …

  Because she’s gorgeous. There’s no question that she’s going to be at least as beset by propositions as I’ve been so far once she launches her career. Quite likely more beset by propositions than I’ve ever been.

  Throw in the stress of travel and absences, not to mention the age difference, and I’ll probably end up being a complete wreck.

  Fuck, I’m a wreck now as it is. I’ve been texting her so many times I feel like I’m channeling poor Sofia. I started out playing it cool, just asking where she would like to have dinner, but it’s since degenerated into imploring her to call me back, to please tell me if there are any issues, because if there are, we can talk! And then there was my last text, which asked her to at least let me know if she was okay, because I’m getting sufficiently worried that I’m thinking of calling the police and making a missing persons report.

  And yet, despite it all, despite knowing that she’ll probably break my heart in the end, especially if she already has the sort of effect that she has on me at this point - I still want her, want to protect her, comfort her. She looked so sad when she was talking about her father, I think it would do her a world of good to be taken care of for once, and I don’t mean just with a trust fund!

  It’s clear she needs someone who will actually love her, take care of her …

  And I love her. I know it seems ridiculous and impulsive and overblown to say that, given how little time we’ve known each other, and yet I’ve never felt for any woman what I feel for her.

  Not even with Victoria, and she was the closest I came to being in love before Evie swept into my life and stole my heart …

  It’s as though we just understand each other somehow, and I don’t mean merely on a sexual level.

  My cellphone rings - it’s Aurelia. She’s sounding a bit puzzled at my panic - well of course I gave her a second key, why wouldn’t I? she asks, nonplussed.

  Even as I ring off I’m making my way downstairs, with the perhaps mad idea that I’ll comb the area around here, perhaps check out the area near Evie’s apartment. I mean, yes, maybe she’s just decided to go for something new altogether and for all I know she took the boat to the Lido, but chances are she’s around here somewhere …

  Of course, just as I’m about to get to the door, I hear the click of the key in it and it opens.

  It’s her.

  Thank heavens.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It’s him, looking both wildly agitated and rapturously happy at the same time as he enfolds me in those powerful arms of his and kisses me.

  “You’re all right, Evie? My God, I was just about to go out and look for you - I was starting to think I might want to call the police, send in a missing persons report.”

  “I don’t understand,” I stammer. “I was just away for a few hours, and I said I’d be back.”

  “You’ve been away well over four hours. I called you, texted you, got no answer. I thought maybe you’d run off or been mugged or something.”

  What, did he actually think I was going to take off, just like that? And he can’t possibly have thought I was going to get mugged, not in Venice of all places, surely!

  I mean, I did spend the better part of those four hours thinking about where I wanted to go with this, about the possibility that I might need to revise my expectations and whether I thought it was worth it to pursue this in light of these revised expectations, but still! …

  “I didn’t call you back because I didn’t take my phone with me,” I explain. “Last night I was so flustered by everything that I forgot to charge it, and I didn’t realise it till I was about to go out, so I thought I’d leave it here to charge - it was running so low on battery power that it wouldn’t have done me any good if I’d taken it with me. I also wasn’t expecting you to call.”

  “Wait, you’re saying you didn’t have your phone with you? Someone your age didn’t check her phone first thing in the morning? Look, you have a perfect right to not take my calls if you don’t want to, there isn’t any need to make stuff up. Besides, I didn’t hear your phone ring when I called.”

  While he looks thoroughly unconvinced by my explanation, he’s still holding me tightly to him, as though he doesn’t want me to escape now that I’m back.

  “My phone’s almost always on vibrate,” I say. “Come upstairs with me.”

  After he gives me a searching look, he lets me go just enough to lead him upstairs. He’s still got his arm wrapped around my waist somewhat possessively, but seems to be calming down.

  I must say I’m having some trouble understanding why he would be so upset over something so trivial. It’s really sweet and very touching that he was so worried about me, but I definitely wasn’t expecting him to react in this way.

  And then a thought occurs to me - a strange thought that would, under different circumstances, probably never have occurred to me.

  What if mom wasn’t just reckless and selfish, which is what I’ve thought of her over the years? What if maybe it also never occurred to her that anyone would ever miss her, that her absence would matter to anybody …

  After all those years at boarding school interspersed by very occasional visits to gramps and grandma, which was basically my experience as well, perhaps she too simply didn’t think she would matter all that much to anyone at all, not to dad, not to me …

  For the first time in a really long time I find myself feeling sorry for her.

  Strangely, he seems to sense that I’m going through something, and I feel him gently squeeze my waist, just before I’m about to open the door to my room.

  When I look at him, his expression is much softer, reassuring.

  “Look, Evie,” he says. “I’m not a tyrant. You don’t have to prove to me that you didn’t have your phone with you, I believe you. I was just distraught, you know? I didn’t want to lose you.”

  He didn’t want to lose me? Lorenzo Moretti, who could have any woman he damn well pleases, didn’t want to lose me?

  It’s a statement that startles and bewilders me, but also moves me profoundly.

  Especially because it doesn’t sound like a line, like something said just to score points and impress - he’s speaking quietly, with a serious expression, as though it was just a statement of fact.

  I kiss him impulsively, and he returns my kiss passionately, tenderly, fervently, as though he wanted to claim me somehow …

  “I know I don’t have to,” I murmur afterwards, looking into those huge dark hypnotic eyes of his. “But I do want to. And besides, I’d like to see your messages.”

 
; It’s his turn to look startled, and I could have sworn that his cheeks are now carrying the faintest hint of a blush.

  God, he’s so adorable when he blushes!

  I open the door, we walk in, and I retrieve my phone from the charger.

  And then I read his messages, read the mounting anxiety in them …

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I had no idea you’d be worried, certainly not to that extent.”

  He shushes me with a smile and a kiss. “I think I’ve just been afraid of losing you all this time,” he says.

  “But why do you think you would lose me?”

  He looks at me with a sort of tender melancholy in his eyes.

  “I don’t know, so many things. I’m so much older than you are, for instance. You’re so young and beautiful and have such a bright future in front of you, I figured you’d probably break my heart if I allowed my feelings for you to get out of hand. And yet they have. More importantly, I don’t care. I love you, Evie. I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you. I know I got that call from Sofia earlier, and I know you’ve probably heard the rumors, and it’s true we were involved on a casual, on-and-off basis. But I’ve told her about you and made very clear that I’m no longer available the way I used to be, that I don’t want to be available the way I used to be, not any more. Because it’s you I love.”

  I can hardly process what he’s saying about Sofia - I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he’s just told me that he loves me. And he was afraid I’d break his heart?

  To think that I’d spent all that time thinking that he was going to break my heart, and that I was going to have to accept that as a very real possibility if I got involved with him!

  Not to mention that we both appear to have arrived at the same, mirror-image conclusion, that we were going to risk it anyway …

  “Oh, Renzo, I love you too, you must know that,” I whisper, and he smiles and kisses me again.

  “And then there is one thing I haven’t told you,” he says afterwards, looking slightly guilty all of a sudden. “One thing that I should have told you earlier, which I couldn’t bring myself to, because I was afraid I’d lose you forever. For that I reproach myself …”