“Please, Milan, don’t start a war with him the minute he enters the building. My nerves just couldn’t take it.”
“If he tries to push us around, I won’t have it, Lydia. Somebody has to stand up. You won’t stand up. Leonard won’t. It has to be me.”
“Oh, stop it! He hasn’t even got here and already you’re plotting his downfall. Remember Mary-Ann? Poor woman. I feel bloody awful about that, and you should too.”
“Ah, don’t be so righteous. Little Saint Lydia, wants everyone to be as pure as she—”
He ruffled her hair mockingly and she slapped his hand away.
“Oh, shut up, Milan. You’re so vile sometimes.”
He put his face right against hers, his handsome face ugly with hostility.
“You knew what you were getting when you let me fuck you the first time, sweetheart. In front of another man. You aren’t the little virgin you like to play. You wanted it just as much as we did.”
“Oh, God, sometimes I hate you.”
Reminded of that first night, and how Evgeny had been there, his dark eyes glowing, Lydia felt the tears rush up from deep within. His hands had been so skilled and delicate. He’d been a beautiful, talented man who should still be alive now.
“Don’t you even miss him? He loved you so much he’d have done anything…for…”
Her throat caught and she couldn’t continue. She stormed out of bed and ran to the bathroom, locked herself in, then wept inconsolably on the hot tub step.
It was some time before Milan knocked.
“Come out of there. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.”
She wiped her face with the towel, took a deep breath and squeezed the last tears from her eyes.
“I’m going home,” she said. “I think this is wrong, a mistake. You aren’t ready.”
“Are you fucking dumping me from behind a closed door?” Milan sounded so outraged that she almost let out a nervous laugh.
She unbolted the door and opened it just a sliver, in case Milan did something crazy. He sounded capable of it, frighteningly so.
“No. I’m not dumping you from behind a closed door. I’m saying that I think the timing’s wrong. You aren’t ready. I can’t cope with your anger and your…insane competitiveness. Not now. I’m tired, Milan. We’ve both been through too much this year. Let’s give ourselves a break. Maybe rethink after you’ve done the counselling.”
He stared at her, appearing stunned.
“How can you be so…? Don’t you have a heart? Don’t you love me anymore?”
“Of course I do.” And now she was crying again. “I always will. I love you so much. Too much. I can’t keep my head together and I can’t think. I’m too mixed up in you and I need to step back.”
He reached out for her. She let him take her hand, but kept the space between the door and the frame as tight as possible.
“I can’t lose you now. I’ve lost so much.” His eyes were like a sad child’s, pleading.
“You aren’t losing me. I’ll still be here for you, but as a friend. You need to focus on getting better and playing at the Prom concert.”
“For God’s sake, come out of there.”
She relented, pushing open the door and allowing herself to be manipulated into his arms. Leaving them was going to be the hardest act of her life, even harder than walking away from him in Prague, and her resolve wavered dangerously.
“I won’t let you go,” he said.
“I’ll come back, Milan, I swear. I’ll come back when the time’s right. I just want you to be happy.”
“You make me happy.”