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The phone continued to ring and with impatience, and barely a hint of his focus, he answered.
“Xenakis.”
“You know, if every single one of your brothers and mine answers the phone that way, the greeting begins to lose a hint of specificity.”
“Cora.” Usually, he had all the time in the world for Cora, the sole female in their line of Xenakis, the only woman in a sea of Xenakis men, but today, his mind was completely focused on Mila, and why she wasn’t in bed beside him. He threw off the cover, his body hard, his mind singularly focused as he reached for a pair of boxers and pulled them on.
“Yes,” Cora drawled. “How are you?” The softening of her voice pulled at his heart and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed past it.
“Fine. You?”
“Leo,” she sighed. “I mean it. How are you really?”
Guilt chased grief. Guilt that he wasn’t thinking more of Konstantinos, and the void that would be left in their lives. Was he using Mila purely as a distraction? To push away his sadness? That was what he’d thought initially, but now, he wasn’t so sure. Last night hadn’t been about distraction, though hell, it had worked. He’d felt a thousand things though, and all of them revolved purely around Mila.
Nonetheless, the void was there, low in his gut, a part of him now, whether he thought of it or not. The world had changed shape; there was no denying that.
“I’ll survive.”
He could practically hear her wheels spinning. “Thanasi’s been asking about you.”
Leo shook his head. “We spoke yesterday.”
“He’s worried.”
“Thanasi can’t help but worry. It’s his default setting.”
Leo moved to the window and looked out of it distractedly, eyes on the vines to the west, the hue of the sky, an emptiness inside of him splitting open.
“I told him I’ll go home, soon.”
“Good.” Mollified, Cora changed the subject, but Leonidas was impatient. He shifted position slightly and a movement caught his eye, and his breath. Through the glass windows of the conservatorium, she was visible, but only briefly. It was her reflection, he realized, caught in a mirror of the room, like a Sylph, moving in and out of his vision, frustratingly quickly, ethereal, a figment of his imagination. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was too far away. Every few seconds, she would come back into his view and he could only marvel at how beautiful she was. How utterly graceful. Her eyes were closed, her face at peace, her hair piled up on her head in a messy bun, and she moved like a fairy, or an angel.
Desire mixed with admiration.
“I have to go.”
Cora, mid-sentence, froze. “Is something the matter?”
“No. I just have to go.” Feeling like a bastard, he frowned. “Thank you for checking on me.”
“Anytime, Leo. Anytime.” He put down the phone, so now he could watch with the full force of his concentration. He stared at Mila for a long time, utterly fascinated by her. He’d seen figure skaters before, he’d been dragged to the ballet more times than he’d like to count, courtesy of his mother’s obsession—an obsession that was in part because of Val, who even as a toddler had adored the ballet—but he’d never seen anything quite like this. His whole body was frozen still as a strange sort of energy thrummed in his veins.
He watched for a long time and then, of their own accord, his legs moved, galvanizing him into action. He went to her because it was inconceivable to think that he might not. What choice did he have?
But at the door to the conservatory, he paused: still, respectful, entranced.
When she danced, it was magic. He couldn’t look away. The sense of something unique and special playing out before his eyes weaved through the room and wrapped around him.
He could hear music, even when none played. It beat in his soul. It stunned him.
And then she turned and opened her eyes, as though she’d sensed him, and he moved without thought and planning, into the room, directly to her.
“Hi,” she mouthed, her body still, even as echoes of the silent song continued to reverberate between them.
His response, a response he hadn’t thought out and didn’t realise he was going to give, was to draw her into his arms and kiss her, as though it had been months since they’d seen one another, as though she was his purpose for existing. He pushed the thought away; it made no sense. It wasn’t true…it couldn’t be.
“Jesus,Mila, I’ve been worried as all hell about you.”
