Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
He still doesn’t return my call.
I try seven more times, and finally, at midnight Chicago time, I text Sasha to ask if Pavel’s around.
Her reply shreds me: He’s gone. He went to Russia.
I sink to the floor and sob.
I lost him.
I had him—he was going to move here to be with me—and I ruined it. He was so sure he was bad for me that the moment I agreed, he backed off. He backed off so far, he left the country.
I drop my forehead to my knees and cry for the man who holds my heart. The man I love.
The man I lost.
19
Pavel
When I arrive back in the States with my mother, I see all the messages from Kayla, but I don’t listen to them. I can’t bear to.
I knew her well enough to suspect she’d be back in touch once the anger wore off. A pleaser like her doesn’t like discord. Ending things the way we did wouldn’t sit right with her. She would reach back out for closure.
And my plan is to give her exactly what she needs. To set her free emotionally. To tell her I care about her. Wish her well. Pledge my protection and assistance if she ever needs it in the future.
But I’m putting off that conversation because the burn of losing her is like an acid eating me from the inside out. I can’t stop obsessing over her. Remembering every single moment we spent together. Seeing all the places I could have treated her better. Shared more. Let her in.
She wanted to come to Chicago. I should have invited her. She wanted to know me better; she was jealous of Sasha’s proximity. I should have made sure she never felt jealous again. That she held all my most sacred secrets.
Most of all, I regret not telling her what she meant to me. That I wanted to keep her—permanently. I keep wondering if it would have made a difference. Probably not, but I’m second guessing.
I get my mom settled in a one-bedroom in the Kremlin and introduce her to Svetlana, the midwife and her daughter, Natasha, the massage therapist. Svetlana is well-respected in the building and promised to introduce my mother to everyone and make sure she settles in. Surprisingly, this is the happiest I’ve seen my mother. Ever. I think she really bought into the new start thing once we packed up her shit and left her place. She’s seemed hopeful ever since.
When I get up to the penthouse, I’m stupid with jetlag and exhaustion.
Natasha comes out of Dima’s room, blushing. I’d be happy the asshole finally hooked up with her, but I’m too dead to feel anything.
I walk into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator, and Sasha launches herself from the couch and comes at me.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” she demands. She stalks into the kitchen and gets right up into my face. “Kayla is suffering, and you won’t even call her back.” She points a finger in my face.
I catch her wrist. “What do you mean, suffering?” I demand, alarm sharpening my exhausted brain.
Maxim enters the kitchen and stands behind Sasha. “Let go of my wife,” he growls.
I release Sasha before I get punched in the face.
“Ashley called me to say she won’t get out of bed. She hasn’t eaten. She cries all the time.” Sasha gives my chest a poke. “I told you not to hurt her.”
The alarms in my head have turned to full sirens.
I can only stare at my furious suitemate as the thoughts connect and disconnect in my head. And then I’m out the door and heading for the airport.
Kayla
After Sheri, Ashley, and Kimberly forced me out of bed and into the shower, I left the apartment to go on a drive to be alone.
Last night when they tried to get me to eat by plying me with ice cream, I broke down and told them the whole story—about what Blake Ensign did. Pavel’s solution. The part I got as a result. How I broke up with him and then later found out he was planning to move here to be with me.
If I weren’t so depressed, I would have a bitter laugh over the irony that they turned Team Pavel after hearing the story.
At least we’re all in agreement that I fucked up.
I don’t have a destination in mind, but I find myself down at the pier. My thinking place. The place I go when I’m ready to give up.
I guess that means subconsciously I don’t want to give up on my relationship with Pavel. And yet, I have to. I find a place to park and walk down to the end of the pier. A bench is open, and I plop down onto it.
I listen to the sound of the waves and the seagulls. The din of voices around me. My face grows wet with quiet tears.