I nod.
He nods back.
And we start running.
After a few minutes, I gather enough courage to ask, “How far are we running?”
“Not that far. I assumed you were out of shape.”
I scowl at him, offended by the—correct—assumption. “I exercise in other ways.”
He grins. “I know.”
I was talking about swimming, but he’s referring to sex. I’m still sensitive, and the tight fabric of my leggings doesn’t diminish the awareness. Thinking about this morning is a nice distraction though, and the lingering endorphins are helping too. My calves burn, but it’s a bearable ache.
“There’s no pool here, right?”
His smile fades. “No pool here. We can move somewhere else in a few months.”
“Really?” I’m buoyed by this news.
“Aleksandr moved out when he got married. If we leave right away, it will look weak, like we were pushed out. But we don’t need to stay here forever. I have to stay close for work, but we will be farther than this.” He gestures to the wooded trail we’re running along.
I’m really hoping it’s part of a loop, not that I’ll be expected to repeat all the distance we’ve already covered. The discomfort has spread, so my lungs are burning too. My stomach is empty, but I still imagine I can feel the contents sloshing around. I silently pray I don’t vomit in front of him.
Finally, I see the house again. Any relief about approaching the end is quickly snuffed out by exhaustion. I’m too tired to care that we’re close to finishing. I want to be done now.
Lev can tell I’m flagging. My red face, sweat-soaked shirt, and excessive panting must have given me away. Probably how I looked under him earlier, but at least then, I felt too good to care about my appearance.
“Push through,” he coaches me. “You’re almost there.”
I lost the ability to speak a while ago, so I try to nod. I’m not sure he can tell.
“Pretend you’re swimming. Take a breath, then count how many strokes to the wall.”
That helps more than anything else has. I’ve swum longer than I thought I could many times before, and the visualization is familiar. I pretend there’s cool water surrounding me, that I’m almost to where I want to be, but not quite. I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath like I’m preparing to be underwater. I close my eyes, and when they open, I’m back by the garage.
I collapse on the ground, which I know is not the proper running etiquette. You’re supposed to walk around with your hands on your head or something. Not happening.
The sun is starting to peek out. Lev’s height blocks it as he stands over me, grinning. He opens his water bottle, squirting some cold liquid on me before offering me the bottle.
Water is the one thing I want right now, so I crawl into an upright position before swallowing a hasty sip.
“You did well.”
His praise warms me more than the sunshine. I don’t care if he’s lying. I made it the whole way, yeah, but I doubt the distance was that impressive.
“You might have to carry me inside,” I say, gulping down more water. “Very high chance.”
Lev is still grinning. I could run a marathon if that smile was waiting for me at the finish line.
He holds a hand out, and I let him hoist me upward. My tired legs trip over nothing but flat ground, and I crash into his firm chest. And once I’m there, I don’t want to move. I want to live here forever, pressed against him.
Lev kisses the top of my head, which he’s never done before. Hope swells in my chest. I don’t regret marrying him, and I know I never will. But I’ll spend the rest of my life worrying he’ll regret marrying me.
Love and loyalty aren’t the same thing, and I know Lev’s life has been centered around the latter. If we were married for more than a day, I might say it now. But it’s been less than twenty-four hours, so I simply close my eyes again. This time, I don’t pretend I’m anywhere else. I’m already exactly where I want to be.
Lev suddenly stiffens. I react, too, straightening so I’m standing on my own, and glance around to assess the threat.
