Page 84 of If I Were Yours

His eyes scan over my face before he concedes, “Yes, this is different. It’s hard seeing you sad. I wish I knew how to make it better.”

And there’s the heavy worry again, etched deep between his brows.

“You already are.” I throw my arm around him and burrow my head against his chest. “You make everything better, just by being here.”

Grigory tips my chin up, the leather of his glove smooth against my skin. “But I’m also doing the opposite.”

I shake my head, refusing to acknowledge that he’s part of the reason for the conflicted turmoil constantly nagging at me.

His chest lifts with a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should sleep at Markus’s place from now on. I don’t want to repeat last night.”

He doesn’t seem stoked at the idea, but I don’t think it has anything to do with me. I have a feeling it’s more about the whole strangeness of the situation—Markus being gone and Grigory sort of taking his place. I hate that too, feeling like Grigory is a replacement. But I’d much rather he stays over than sleeping alone in that empty apartment one more night.

So I nod. “I’d like that.”

His mouth curves in a hint of a smile before he squeezes my hand. “Come. Let’s go see if the penguins can cheer us up.”

It takes a little while, but as we watch the penguins’ awkward shuffle and playful antics, we both loosen up, and when one of them starts sliding around on its belly, I’m laughing again.

***

We pick up pizza from my favorite pizza place on our way back to Markus’s place and eat it on the couch while watching TV. Then I spend a couple of hours at the piano, preparing for the big audition, which is in only two days.

“Do you feel ready?” Grigory asks when he comes to stand behind me, rubbing my arms.

“Not really.” I lean back into him, suddenly feeling bone-tired.

“You play beautifully,devochka. I’ve barely gotten anything done in the last half hour because I couldn’t stop listening.”

He’s been sitting on the couch at the other end of the room with his tablet, but apparently, he wasn’t working like I thought.

“But I was only practicing.” Self-consciousness has med fidgeting. I’ve been repeating the same bars over and over, playing slowly and with alternate rhythms. It’s how you get good, but it’s not really something worth listening to.

“It doesn’t matter. The feelings are there all along.”

Turning on the bench, I stare up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, astounded by his compliment.

“Rarely do I hear music that speaks so much to me.” He strokes my cheek as he holds my gaze, honesty shining brightly in the dark depths.

I can hardly believe it.

“But as much as I’d love to keep enjoying your music, you need to get to bed.” His expression becomes soft with a hint of worry. “You look exhausted.”

“I am.” I sigh and press my head into him.

He lets me stay there for a while before tapping my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

I make quick work of getting ready for bed—well, as much as I can with the sluggish feeling permeating both my body and mind.

When I come out from the bathroom, ready to slip under the covers, I’m disappointed to find that Grigory has prepared the couch for sleeping.

I want to ask why, but I know it’s because he doesn’t want to sleep in Markus’s bed, and I’m not sure I’d want him to. Him being here instead of Markus, taking care of me, already feels like a transgression. Sleeping together in Markus’s bed would only make it worse.

So I accept the arrangement, grateful that he’s here at all. And it does help. Just knowing he’s in the next room and will be there come morning is enough for me to relax and drift off within ten minutes.

But it’s a restless sleep. Once again, I wake to a pitch-black room with an uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach, making it hard to breathe.

My phone tells me it’s barely twelve, so I traipse through the room and carefully open the door.

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