"In due time," he counters. "Tonight I'd like to finish the discussion we started."
I look at him for a long moment. The anger is still there beneath the surface, coexisting with curiosity. I don’t say anything to that, just start back up the stairs. Thinking with every step. I feel him follow close behind me. Despite the proximity, he doesn’t push. When we reach our floor, I turn toward my door, taking a deep breath, and hoping against hope that he will respect my decision.
“I don’t think I can handle anymore of your company tonight.” I say, stopping at my door, looking back where he waits at the banister, mouth pulled in a tight line. “Goodnight, Victor.”
I don’t give him an opportunity to protest, quickly going back inside. Locking it before turning to lean on it, sliding to the floor with a sigh, my heart racing in an uneasy flutter. I do not know if he's still out there or if he's gone back to his own apartment.
The candles are still burning on my counter, and I watch them flicker in the dark apartment, and I think about his hand on my jaw, his voice, and the way he stepped back the moment my phone rang and my body reacted, without hesitating, without making any of it complicated. And I wonder,who is he really? Beneath the surface?
Eventually, when enough time passes that I am sure he isn’t going to come knocking on the door, I get up and move to the couch. Curling up with my blanket, pick up my book and readthe same pages I read before the power went out. Despite my best efforts, I still don’t retain them.
At ten-fourteen, the lights turn back on, and Evie calls, just like she promised.
"Lights are on," she says. "I'm good. Get some sleep.”
"Good night, Evie.”
"Good night, Alex." Instead of hanging up like I expect, she pauses, then asks: "Was someone with you earlier? When you came out of the building I thought I saw?—"
"No. It was just me, must have been the shadows playing tricks. Good night, Evie," I say again.
She laughs, “that makes sense. Goodnight,” and hangs up.
Exhaustion hits me as soon as we disconnect, and I blow out the candles and go to bed. Letting the dark envelope my bedroom, I lie there and think about nothing in particular for a long time, which means I think about everything, all at once.
I think about one thing in particular, over and over again. The way he said I'm done pretending I haven't liked it cost him something to admit it, like it was the truest thing he'd said since he walked through my door.Like it meant something to him, like maybe, just maybe, the burning emotion I kept seeing creep into his eyes beneath the mask is real.
Chapter Ten
Victor
She comes out of the building with her phone in her hand and her jacket half-buttoned against the November cold, recognizing the car at the curb. My car, with Maksim behind the wheel, her eyes finally landing on me, and I can see her doing the calculations internally. The one she runs on everything.
Then she gets in without a word because it is cold and she is practical above almost everything else. She also knows I’m not going to give up that easily. Maksim doesn't comment. He is very good at not commenting.
"She's fine," Alex says, to the window, to no one in particular.
"You said that last night," I say.
"I'm reminding myself." She has her hands in her jacket pockets, and she's watching the street go past absently. She looks tired. "You didn't have to come down."
"I know."
"Or wait."
"I know that too."
She looks at me then, sideways, the particular look she gives me when she's trying to determine what I want and coming up short on answers. I prefer her to be uncertain about me. Certainty creates distance, and I am done with distance where she is concerned.
"Why did you?" she asks.
"Because you were alone," I say. "And she called in a panic and you went, and I wasn't going to stand in your hallway while you handled it by yourself."
She looks at the window again.
"That's not your job," she says.
"No," I agree. "It isn't."
