“You’re welcome. The time often feels like it will last forever, so anything you can do to keep your mind off it helps,” she said.
We were silent for a moment and I watched her. She spoke with a worldliness, and a wariness, that didn’t fit the woman in front of me.
She was a tiny thing, shorter than even me, curvier than me, her face round and youthful, though I suspected she was a few years older than me. Her thick, natural hair was pulled back tight in a braid that lay against one shoulder, and her baby-pink T-shirt was beautiful against her flawless dark skin.
Senna looked sweet, kind, and it took no imagination at all for me to picture her herding a minivan of kids from baseball practice to soccer practice and then to the safe, warm home that she and her partner had created for them.
Why the hell was she here?
I regarded her for a moment longer and then started, “Senna, why are—”
But when I heard the door open, I stopped, turned toward it, and let the words die in my throat as my eyes found him.
He was bruised, his eyes swollen shut, his lip cut, but it was him.
I dropped the fork and stood, rushing to him. But when I reached him, I froze, unsure if I should touch him, afraid I might hurt him if I did, though I desperately wanted to.
He didn’t share my worries, for he reached out to me and pulled me to him. He squeezed me, but then I felt a shudder rock through his body and he dropped his arm. When I looked up at him, I could see the glare he shot me, even though his face was swollen almost beyond recognition.
“Coming here was stupid, Milan,” he said.
I smiled despite myself, the joy lifting my heart making it hard to keep my feet on the ground.
“Probably,” I said simply, my heart, which had soared moments ago, settling into a calm, steady rhythm. There was no need for a frantic beat, no need for worry. Not anymore. Because he was here, in front of me right now, and that was all that mattered.
As gingerly as I could, I wrapped my arms around him.
Four Days Later
Priest
“Next time get a house without steps, Maxim,” I grumbled as I finally reached the top stair.
By now, my side was throbbing, my chest burning with the pain of my exertion. But I wanted water, and I’d been on my back for long enough.
The last days had been a blur of agonizing pain and exhilarating relief every time I saw Milan.
She had barely left my side, and though I hadn’t asked him to, Maxim had allowed her to stay with me in one of his houses. Though the days and nights of recovery had been long, I would treasure them because they would be the last with her.
I’d turned the problem over and over in my head, searched for a solution that would fulfill my desire to be with her and my conviction to see her safe. There wasn’t one. Every path led to the same end, one where Milan ended up hurt, or worse, and that couldn’t happen. Being without her would break me, maybe to the point of no repair. But losing her…
I shook my head, the horror of that thought, my absolute unwillingness to accept it, requiring a physical action to be dispelled.
“What are you doing? Why are you up?” Milan said, breaking into my thoughts as she came into the room. I looked at her and then again lay on the bed.
“I wanted water,” I said, keeping all traces of pain out of my voice.
She gaped and then rushed to me. “Why didn’t you ask!”
“I’m not an invalid,” I snapped.
“No,” she said without missing a beat, “you’re a stubborn fool.”
As she spoke, she patted down my chest, wiping away the sweat that had popped up on my skin. Then she tucked the sheet around my waist.
“Milan, stop hovering,” I said.
She smiled at me sweetly, indulgently, but she ignored me and continued to fluff the pillow she’d placed behind my head.
“Are you hungry? Need something to drink? You’ve refused pain medication, but what about an aspirin?” she asked.
“You want to give me what I need?” I asked.
She nodded eagerly.
“Then stop hovering,” I said gruffly, not that my words stopped her or even slowed her, my seeming displeasure only barely masking the fact I rather enjoyed Milan’s babying and her inability to be deterred.
I glared at her, tried to convey how serious I was, but doing so was a struggle. I’d never had anyone baby me, try to tend to every my every need. I wasn’t used to it, didn’t know if I ever could be, but as foreign and fleeting as I knew all this was, I was enjoying the attention.
Her attention.
I had let myself enjoy Milan’s unending care for a couple of days, told myself that it was simply time I was using to recover.
Maxim would be proud of how I’d managed to mix the truth with a lie, make them blend seamlessly, so well I had almost convinced myself. He’d told me once that the best lies were those a liar believed, and in this moment, after all these years, I finally understood what he’d meant. Because I needed to believe if what I intended to do was possible. Would only be able to send her away and pretend that I wouldn’t long for her for the rest of my days if I accepted the lie. It was a lie I almost did believe.