Page 65 of If I Were Yours

Luckily, no one has discovered the en suite bathroom in the bedroom or the king-sized bed, so when I shut the door, I’m alone. I breathe a sigh of relief and look at the large bed. If it wasn’t for my full bladder, I’d be tempted to drop onto the mattress and stay there.

I grab my phone on the dresser and go to the bathroom. The party becomes an almost imperceptible din as I shut the door. Closing my eyes to take in the blissful silence, I plop onto the toilet and release my bladder. The room is spinning around me, and there’s a slow roll of nausea in my belly that reminds me why I never drink. It’s nothing like the pleasant haze Grigory brings me into.

After washing my hands, I fall onto the closed toilet seat with my phone in hand to reply to some happy New Year greetings. I already have eleven unread messages.

I open the first, from a friend I never see anymore.

Happy New Year! I hope to see more of you in the next one.

“Sure, you don’t mean that,” I mutter and go back to read two equally impersonal ones before I get to the one from my mother. It’s the complete opposite: Long, personal, and affectionate. She’s always been good at these kinds of texts and birthday cards, and I usually love them, but right now I can’t cope with all the sentiment. The same goes when I read an almost equally sweet text from one of my close friends.

I’m just about to shut off the phone when I scroll down and see the last message—or the first one. My heart skips a beat. It’s from Grigory. Sent at exactly 00:00.

I hurriedly click on it and groan when I hit the wrong message. Tapping eagerly, I go back and open the only message I want to read.

Happy New Year, devochka.

Short and precise, just like the Grigory I know. It’s shorter than any of the other messages I’ve received, yet it means so much more than all of them put together. I keep rereading the four words, over and over, to make sure my alcohol-swamped mind isn’t playing a trick on me.

I miss him terribly.

I slip my pinkie between my teeth as I write out a reply.

Happy New Year to you too.

Reading the words, I grunt, shooting back the cursor that swallows the empty words. I give it one more go.

Thanks. I hope you have a great night. The party is still going here.

Once more, the cursor gets to eat the words, like Pac-Man snapping up cheeses.

I make a couple more attempts, but nothing is good enough. Everything is trite and empty, unable to convey how I actually feel, and I can’t make myself send any of it.

Before I know what I’m doing, I have the phone to my ear, the first beep telling me there’s a connection.

I hold my breath as another beep sounds. Grigory is probably busy talking to a shitload of interesting people. He’s been playing a New Year’s concert today, and they probably have a huge after-party going. God, I hate the thought.

“Hello.” The deep rumble sends a surge of heat through me, and I sit completely still, my teeth around my finger the only thing moving.

“Are you okay,devochka?” Grigory’s voice takes on a hint of concern, and I hurry to say something—the first thing that comes to mind.

“I miss you.”So goddamn much.

Now it’s his turn to be quiet.

I realize this was probably a bad idea. We rarely speak on the phone unless it’s something practical that needs to be solved quickly. This was a stupid drunken impulse.

“I’m sorry… I’d better go…” I’m about to say goodbye when Grigory stops me.

“No. Stay here.” The line is quiet for another minute, Grigory’s calm breaths the only sound until his voice finally breaks the tension. “Is it a good party?”

“There are a lot of people… and noise… but it’s fun.” Well, at least it was for a while.

“Good to hear.”

“How is your evening?” There’s no background noise to indicate a party, but he might just have gone outside to take my call. I really hate the idea of him at a party. He’s told me he’s not been with other women since he started teaching me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want to at some point. After all, he doesn’t have that kind of obligation to me since we’re not a couple. Plus, I’m with another man, so why wouldn’t he see other women?

“I played a New Year’s concert with the Vienna Philharmonics. Grand and festive as always. Now I’m back at my hotel, reading.”

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