Chapter Text
January 22nd
Dmitry’s arm was asleep.
For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was. The snow outside made the sun spilling into the room an extra tint more blinding and obnoxious. Somewhere an old grandfather clock was incessantly ticking, and that horrible draft he hadn’t escaped in the five days he’d been stuck here still found him and made him shiver, a muscle ached in his lower back and there was no immediate remedy.
And yet his grin was stupid and blissful and there was absolutely nothing he’d change about this moment.
“Are you awake?”
Anya’s voice made him smile even wider, his arm coming up around her head and lips blindly dropping to press a slow kiss to the crown of her head. “Yeah,” he whispered.
When his eyes blinked open she was looking up at him, tucked under his arm. She had nestled into the crook of his neck last night and he guessed neither had moved at all since he drifted off. They fit well together, like this, like they existed to hold each other. “I just wasn’t sure if you smile while you sleep.”
He laughed. “No, just happy.”
Her smile was soft, a gentler radiance than the sunlight in the window. He allowed himself the gift of counting her freckles for the millionth time, studying the way her cheeks and nose flushed with the joy of the morning, how the light made her hair glow. She was so beautiful his chest ached with the realization that this was too good to last.
He swallowed. “We should probably talk about…”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Not until we have to get ready to leave.” He didn’t have the heart to argue with that, even though, realistically, that still gave them very little time to avoid the elephant in the room. She bit her lip to conceal a sudden smile. “I’m still pretending we went on a date last night.”
He grinned. “The date went really well, then, wouldn’t you say?”
She snorted, the happiest sound in the world, and tucked into him a little closer, her breath tickling his neck and hair tickling his nose. “We should’ve shared beds sooner, at least to keep warm.”
“I wouldn’t have complained.” His hand started letting his fingers trail up and down her arm while he stared up at the ceiling. The draft nipped at his bare skin again and he pulled the comforter up their bodies even more with his free arm. “Seriously, though, it’s freezing in this whole house. I hate Colorado.”
“I’d argue it gets even colder in New York.”
“But with this much snow? No way.”
“It’s a blizzard, Dmitry.” Her finger had crawled up to absent-mindedly trace over his collarbone, a gesture so casually intimate it felt like they’d been here for years. The warmth of her touch made him shiver. Just one of many juxtapositions with her. “There’s inherently more snow than usual.”
He smiled and pressed another kiss to her forehead. Instead of verbally forfeiting the debate he changed the subject entirely. “You hungry?” he asked, nose still pressed into her hair.
She sighed. “See, that’s a complicated question.”
“How so?”
“Well,” she let her hand settle on his chest. “If I ask for breakfast, that means you have to get up, and then I’ll be cold. You’re like a little hot pad.”
He laughed, loud and surprised. “A hot pad, huh?” He kept laughing. “That has to be the oddest compliment anyone has ever given me.”
“You’re welcome.”
He shook his head, endeared. Her confidence and determination to nitpick wouldn’t deter him. He rolled them over, still lounging on the mattress but now he could look down at her, his heart in his throat. “That still doesn’t answer my question.” He smiled, brushing a hair from her forehead. What color was her hair? Red? Blonde? The light made it hard to tell sometimes. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?” Still she said nothing. She was just studying him. Sometimes he felt like her eyes could see right through to his soul. They could cut bone, he thought. It was beyond intimidating. “What?”
Anya sighed. “You’re just… very kind.” His brows narrowed. “I don’t think you know how good you are.”
He swallowed again. Dmitry didn’t know exactly where he stood with her now. Anya definitely didn’t seem like the type of person who did casual relationships or the typical hookup. All the more reason for his heart to be racing out of his mind and butterflies making his stomach go buck wild. She’d called him Dima last night, for god’s sake. That had to mean something.
Maybe that was why he sounded a little shy when he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”
Something unreadable crossed her expression before she answered, tone just as soft, “Always.”
So he did, his lips falling onto hers before letting his eyes fall shut. Her hands came up to caress the sides of his face— thumbs stroking his cheeks and fingers stretching into his hair— as he tilted his head. His sigh was a bit more relieved than he intended.
How do you like your eggs?” he whispered, peppering another kiss onto her every two words or so.
She looped her arms around the back of his neck. “Omelette.”
He grinned. “Coming right up.”
But when he moved to stand she still held onto him. “No— stay.”
“But you’re hungry.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you stay, where it’s warm.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll bring your omelette up here so fast you won’t even notice I’m gone. I promise.”
“I’ll be timing you, Sudayev.”
He laughed. “I expect nothing less.” But even so, before getting up, they kissed again, long and slow and lingering. Maybe deep down they were afraid it would be their last.
So he made two omelettes as fast as he could, trying to get back upstairs before the doubts and worries and time itself caught up to him and spoiled his mood. And for a second he succeeded. They cozied together again in bed, sharing smiles and stories and laughs while they ate, and for a moment Dmitry completely forgot about whatever big red question mark came next.
Until a phone screen on the nightstand lit up.
Anya reluctantly picked the phone up, sighed like she was fighting it when she saw the notification, and dropped it face down.
“What is it?” he ventured.
She leaned against his shoulder before answering. “Nothing.” All he had to do was say her name again to get her to sigh and tell him. “My flight has been moved to gate A14.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know how to respond at first. “I almost forgot flights don’t have to be canceled.”
“Me too.”
He bit his lip. “I guess that’s our cue to talk about it.” He sat up a little more, adjusting so he could look at her while they had this discussion. “I was thinking… I can quit. I’ll go back to a temp job or whatever, I don’t care.”
“No, don’t do that.” She smiled and shook her head. “I think Papa has a bigger crush on you than I do.” He laughed. “I’m serious, he’d be heartbroken.”
He wasn’t the only one. Dmitry’s hand inched towards hers, his eyes staring at their fingers. “As much as I respect him, your father’s not the one I’m concerned about right now.” His eyes flickered up to hers, filling in the blanks. For so long now, perhaps longer than he knew, he realized, the only opinion of his life that mattered to him anymore was hers.
He couldn’t tell if she read all of that in his gaze but she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you to do that, anyway. We have this job to thank for bringing you here after all.”
He watched their hands again, knuckles grazing over the other on top of sheets more expensive than his car. Their worlds were always so different. And yet somehow… somehow he couldn’t picture his life without her now. Even if their paths crossed only briefly in the grand scheme of time. “Do you think we could’ve met if I never got this job?”
“I’d like to think so.” She intertwined their fingers now, brushing against his palm as her hand slid into place. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve known you a long time.”
Her sentiment echoed his thoughts so clearly he should’ve been shocked. Instead he was only comforted, only endeared, so much that he smiled quietly, ducking his head. “I know what you mean.”
They sat quietly for a minute, the ticking grandfather clock downstairs an ever present reminder. And yet he couldn’t make himself rush through this, couldn’t force her off of his shoulder, even if he wanted to. Not until she was ready.
But he still spoke again, hoping maybe talking through all the options would give him something to look forward to. “If I found another job, though, what would happen?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Do you have something else lined up?”
Vlad’s words rung in his ears. There’s a firm in Boston that’s hiring, his friend had said. Initially Dmitry had dismissed the idea, but he hadn’t forgotten about it. Except that was weeks ago and he hadn’t even emailed them a resume. So he shook his head.
Anya sighed. “Can I be honest with you?” He raised an eyebrow and nodded cautiously, before she continued, “As much fun as it is seeing you in my father’s office, and as great as you are for him, you’re like… totally overqualified.” He barked a laugh, surprised, not believing her for a second. “I’m serious! You need to be running an agency yourself or leading accounting or something. You’re smarter than you think.”
He swallowed, heart swelling at the compliment. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “This was supposed to be a temporary job anyway,” he said, like he was mocking himself.
Her eyebrows narrowed. “Why wasn’t it?”
“I met you.” He shrugged, wasn't it obvious? When he met her eyes again she was staring, and just like that he felt that tug in his chest, the one that always pulled him towards her. Instead of letting himself fall forward he looked away, otherwise they’d never get out of bed. “Well, we need to get to the airport in…” he checked the watch still on his wrist, “about an hour. I still don’t know…” He shook his head. Why was it so hard to find the words? Quietly he continued, “What do you want, Anya?”
A pause, her blue eyes blinking at him, slowly shaking her head. “I don’t want to have to keep you a secret, Dima.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. Quitting wasn’t an option. Sneaking around was off the table. So that meant… Silence settled over them. “And I don’t want to get between you and your father.”
A heavy sobriety colored her face. “So this is it, then.”
“I guess so.”
He looked down at their hands again, clenching his jaw and nodding. Wordlessly he pressed a kiss to her cheek and climbed out of bed before the verdict of their situation could hurt. Maybe if he hurried and packed it wouldn’t sting so much when it was time to let go…
And then he met her eyes again and she risked a smile. At a safer distance. “Well,” she started. “We’ve made some… healthy decisions this week.”
“Very healthy.” A moment of indecision passed. What did they do now? “Can… Can I help you get ready?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t bring very much— oh, I forgot!”
“What?” Alarm made his heart race and he stepped forward. “You okay?”
A heavy, grief-ridden sigh escaped her lips. “We never baked a cake,” she said simply, sadly.
For some reason that made him laugh. “Another time,” he lied, pulling her into his chest for a hug and pressing a kiss on the top of her head. God, there was not another soul like hers out there, he was sure. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she nestled into his chest. No, the embrace wouldn’t last long. But he sighed contentedly anyway.
For now, it would have to be enough.
February 10th
Anya would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t get a little awkward when they got back.
They’d agreed to be mature, yes. They’d done so since the very beginning. And at first she thought they’d be okay, they were doing alright, after all. They landed in Manhattan and parted ways and Anya didn’t speak of it. She even scheduled a breakfast with her father for the next week because she was so confident that she could handle it. Her curiosity had been satisfied— she knew what it was like to be with him, and now she could move on. He was out of her system. Detoxed.
And then she saw Dmitry again that first morning back and. Hmm.
Thankfully he was a bit taken aback, too, only briefly. After his eyes darted down he’d corrected himself and smiled politely with tight lips, then returned to his work, saying she knew the way to her father’s office, scarlet creeping up his neck. Perhaps he didn’t want to risk revealing anything either.
See, the problem was, she thought it would be easier after indulging once. Like ripping off a bandaid, right? But it was so much worse now. Because she knew what he was capable of, how attentive and gentle he could be, and, frankly, what he looked like under those button ups. She knew what she was missing out on. Her mind fell straight into the gutter every time she caught his eye, and she mentally kicked herself for being so stupidly immature.
But he was wonderful. Deeper than that, she was starting to think he was the one she’d been waiting for all her life. The week in the cabin confirmed that.
Even worse, Dmitry seemed fine, by all appearances. Like he had gotten over the whole thing the second they landed in Manhattan. Part of her wanted to ask if he was struggling as much as she was, if he had to close his palms into fists when she was near, if his anxiety shot through the roof when he knew she’d visit the office that day, if he couldn’t sleep either.
But that would be inappropriate. Because. Obviously.
Maria was clearly trying not to be as nosy as she used to be, and for that Anya was grateful. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to unpack everything about him yet. And, if she didn’t talk about it out loud with anyone, maybe that would make the moving on part a little easier. Though Anya could tell Maria was secretly desperate to know what was going on, because it must’ve been obvious that something had happened.
Weeks went by and all she got were a few gentle exchanges of pleasantries at his desk. He was just as friendly, of course, but a bit more reserved, a bit more shy. Easy banter had grown stilted, but there was still something about his presence that prevented her from entirely exiling him out.
In the gray of middle February, Anya had stopped by the office to meet with her father, for once to discuss business matters. Her company was finalizing a deal to expand into a larger property and she needed one of his connections to finish the job. On her way out of the copy room Dmitry was there at his desk, comically focused on whatever he was writing on his notepad, the phone receiver pressed to his ear. She stopped by because she knew he would have a stapler. He would always have what she needed.
When she approached he gave her a smile and hung up the phone. “How are you today?”
“I am well.” She adjusted her stack of papers. “And you?”
“As well as I can be.” Before she could let his cryptic answer dig too deep into her mind he cleared his throat. “Whatcha got there?”
“Oh,” she finished stapling her stack of papers, “it’s just some documents about the lease for our new offices.”
“That’s exciting,” he smiled, making her heart crumple like a tin can. God. “I’m really happy for you, Anya.” A beat. “For your company, I mean.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, that’s a big deal, expanding. Lots of hard work paying off.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. She had finished her task of stapling papers together and therefore had no reason to stand there any longer, but she couldn’t get her feet to move. He typed a few words on his keyboard but she couldn’t quit staring, either.
“What?” he asked when he looked up again.
She didn’t know what she wanted to say to him, but she knew it couldn’t be here, at his desk. There were too many ears. After their week alone she was suddenly aware of how intimate they’d been, in a way she had never really been aware of with anyone else, and was afraid that she wore a red mark on her chest, that the way she felt for him was glaring in big neon letters to the whole world. She wasn’t ashamed of it or of him at all, but… she didn’t want anyone else to know what not-so-PG things she did to him.
And then she remembered she was still staring at him.
His hand shot to the top of his head, reflexively smoothing his hair down. A question mark still colored his forehead. She shook her head. Nevermind. “Have a good day, Dmitry.”
“Wait, Anya—” he said as she turned. He rounded his desk, something in his expression softer than she’d ever seen him. Was he wanting to tell her to get a life and move on, and was trying to be as polite as possible? Or was he as lost as she was about this? He swallowed. “Can we talk?” he asked with an imperceptible tilt of his head towards the elevators and such a quiet voice she could barely hear him. She nodded just as quietly. Wordlessly they moved to the elevators and noticed no one there to watch the suspicious escape into privacy. Once the doors rolled shut Dmitry had his hands on his hips and cut right to the chase, not wasting a second of their precious few seconds of privacy, “Are you— I’m just—” he pushed the hair up from his forehead, “it’s so hard to talk to you.”
She pulled her gaze shamefully away from the hand in his hair. “I know.”
“Because, you know, we—”
“I know, Dmitry.” She couldn’t look at him at all so she rested against the railing and stared at her feet. “I don’t really know how to do the whole post-hookup thing.”
“Me neither,” he said so softly she almost missed it. A quiet second passed. “I know we agreed not to bring it up again,” he started, “and I’m not trying to drag it out or whatever, but I just…” he sighed and for some reason that made her look at him, which was the worst possible thing she could’ve done because his eyes were so warm and fond, “I mean this with every ounce of respect that I have, but… I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She bit her lip, feeling that weird pull to him again. “I thought you had gotten over it.”
He snorted. “God, no.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this— it’s just making it worse— and it’s not like you can do anything about it—”
“I know, Dmitry, it sucks.” Her fists tightened around the railing.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
She met his eyes again, for some reason feeling a flare of anger flash up her spine at his dismissal and stepped closer to him. “You’re—”
“I’m what?” His back straightened with the sense of a challenge in her voice.
She had never been angry with him, not really. But now she had never been more frustrated. And it wasn’t even his fault. But he was there, smirking down at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking and was too smug about it for his own good, leaning against the rail on the side of the elevator.
So she cursed and pulled him down by the tie to kiss him.
He laughed, surprised, but his arms came around her, just as strong and warm as she remembered, his hunger mirroring hers. Perhaps restraint was unbearable for him, too. Her back pressed into the wall of the elevator with the force of him. Her hands held his tie and shirt collar, his fists braced the railing on either side of her, all of his attention devoted to this sole purpose.
That was why she didn’t hear the elevator doors open. She did hear it, but she didn’t think anything of it at first, until Dmitry lifted away with a hiss. Her brows narrowed in complaint before she realized someone was waiting to board the elevator.
Gleb was there, in the middle of a phone call with his portfolio tucked under an arm, eyes wide and brows high as he stared between the two of them.
Anya smoothed herself down and cleared her throat. “Good work today, comrade— colleague.”
“Yes,” Dmitry coughed and held his hand out to her and they shared a firm and single shake. “Um. Good work.” He was nodding too much, staring at the floor. There was a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Could this get any more mortifying?
Apparently it could, because Gleb held his palm over the speaker of his phone and mouthed, “Carry on,” before disappearing to the left to take the stairs instead.
The elevator doors rolled shut again and the fluorescent lights hummed in the deafening silence. Anya buried her face in her hands, wishing she could live in the bottom of this elevator shaft for the rest of time.
“Well. That was embarrassing.”
She sighed a deep breath and lifted her head to peek at him. His hand was in his hair, neck scarlet red, not quite meeting her eye, an expression of utter guilt plastered to his lips. “You think?” she responded a little sharper than she intended. “It’s why we can’t— it’s why this won’t work.” She crossed her arms. “My life isn’t my own here, in this place. There are too many people around and too many opinions, it’s why I couldn’t— I just had to find a job elsewhere.” She met his eyes. “And I don’t want to make you suffer through that, too.”
His eyes were sad, understanding. Remorseful. “I know.” After a heavy stare he sighed and stepped closer to her, a new determination in his eyes. “Let me take care of some things, okay?” His fingers ghosted over her knuckles. Like it took everything in him not to hold her. “It won’t always be this hard, I promise.”
Her brows knit looking up at him. How was someone like him allowed to exist? “How do you know that?”
“Trust me.” He held her gaze for a minute that felt like eternity. Like he was deciding whether or not he could get away with kissing her again. “See you around,” he finally whispered, and left. Guess he decided no kiss, then.
She smoothed her skirt. Dmitry had asked her to trust him, so she would. They had to be okay. They were good at being okay.
February melted into a rather bitter March, but at least it was raining instead of snowing tonight. Dmitry had gone quiet after that day in the elevator. Anya didn’t want to step over the boundary again so she gave him space, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss him terribly. Her office had finally transferred to the larger complex now. It was a nicer space, yes, and an excellent sign that her company was growing, but she missed the coziness of the old room. Too many changes at once.
Maria was clearly trying not to be as nosy as she used to be, and for that Anya was grateful. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to unpack everything about him yet. And, if she didn’t talk about it out loud with anyone, maybe that would make the moving on part a little easier. Though Anya could tell Maria was secretly desperate to know what was going on, because it must’ve been obvious that something had happened.
Anya found herself at this old diner after her last meeting of the evening, on the other side of the river in Jersey, the rain pouring down against the window of her booth. She didn’t catch the name of it, but she needed to get out of the rain, and she was trying to do better about taking time out of her day for lunch, even if she still had a million things to do. Even if she was too distracted to look away from the wet reflections on the pavement outside.
Distantly, she recognized a Sinatra song on the radio. Someday, when I’m awfully low, his classic voice rang, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you… Anya rested her chin on her hand, that forlorn emotion latching onto her chest. And the way you look tonight…
“Sorry about the wait,” someone said as they approached her table, but Anya didn’t look up yet. “We’ve got a full house this afternoon. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“Just a water—” Anya glanced up at the waitress and froze cold. “Please.”
The woman was smiling kindly, but it felt chillingly familiar. Dimples on either side of her mouth. Full eyebrows. Thick brown hair, and though pulled into a ponytail, Anya knew it would be soft and full to the touch. Kind, warm eyes, flickering gold in the light. There were smile lines sprouting from the corners of her eyes, and an age spot on her forehead, but Anya still blinked in shock at the resemblance.
If this wasn’t Dmitry’s mother, then this was surely a ghost or a projection of the face she couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Any appetizers?”
Anya blinked, shaking her head. It took her too long to answer. “No, thank you.”
With a dimpled smile the woman disappeared and Anya smoothed the hair from her forehead. Okay, that was definitely not on her bingo card for the night, but it wasn’t like she needed to panic. Maybe she was just going crazy. There wasn’t any proof that this was Dmitry’s mom, exactly, and it didn’t really matter either way. It didn’t have to matter. But that didn’t stop Anya from studying, from looking for any familiar mannerisms when she returned with a glass of ice water. She scrambled to find something from the menu that looked edible to order.
From afar, Anya couldn’t quit staring out of sheer wonder. It was terribly rude, she knew, but god… there was so much in those eyes. She felt like she just discovered an entire new layer of Dmitry, peeling the curtains away to reveal something new about him. This woman may have left him years ago but certainly she knew a side of him no one else did. Certainly a baby photo existed in her wallet. Certainly she could help Anya figure out what to do.
And then suddenly she wanted to become best friends with this woman, praying she hadn’t already blown it with her stilted answers and weird staring. Had she ever cared about a stranger’s approval this way before?
By the time she brought the food to her table Anya was nearly spiraling. She muttered a thank you, scooped a bite of food, and her eyes wandered out the window again, staring at the wet pavement. Everything was gray and cloudy. Yeah. That was how her heart felt. Because all she could do was think about Dmitry like a teenage girl. If she felt this sick about him and they didn’t even have a real relationship to end, what would happen to her when they officially faded out of each other’s lives?
“You okay, dear?” the waitress’s voice broke through her thoughts once again. “I hate to pry, but you seem rather forlorn.”
Anya had only picked at her pot pie by the time she came over to pick up the check, and for some reason that embarrassed her even more. “I’m okay.”
The woman gave her a look that only a mother could give, the one that said they knew everything you were hiding but they weren’t going to make you say it out loud until you admitted it freely. “I won’t elbow my way into your personal business, but with a face like yours, you need to be out there having a blast instead of eating here all by yourself!”
Anya struggled to decide how much to reveal. She needed some guidance. “It’s— it’s silly, really.” Anya shook her head and laughed to herself. “But I think I’ve fallen for someone I can’t have.”
The woman set the tray down on its side. “You know there’s more out there, right? The world is too big to be stuck on one person.”
That was something Anya had been repeating to herself since last September. “I know but… there’s no one like him.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” Anya found her courage to continue. “I don’t know how to explain it, but… you know how you meet a person, and something in you says they were meant to be in your life? Like… like you feel like you’ve been waiting for them and you never realized it until now, and it makes it so much harder to let go than it ever has with anyone else before?”
Something flickered in the woman’s expression, something soft. “I see…” For a second Anya wondered if she’d said too much and her words sounded like the ramblings of a lunatic. “Have you told them any of this?”
“I don’t… know.” Anya didn’t know why she was confessing so much to this stranger. She couldn’t look at her, feeling like an idiot. “I kinda think I blew it.”
“But there’s always hope for a second chance.”
That made Anya look up. “What if I spent them all?”
The woman sighed, studying her. With a chill Anya wondered if Dmitry had talked about her at all, if she knew about her, if she recognized the girl he couldn’t escape from. Anya couldn’t find any recognition in her eyes and she couldn’t decide if that was relieving or disappointing. Then again, those eyes were always hard to read. “I used to feel the same way, you know. But things turn around. From my experience, if it’s meant to be… it’s never too late to come home.” She shrugged. “But nothing’s gonna happen if no one says anything first.”
If no one says anything first. Anya smiled. “That’s good advice.”
“But what do I know?” she said with a short laugh. God, this was so familiar. “What do any of us know? The older I get the more I realize nobody knows what the hell they’re doing.” She tucked the pen back into her pocket. “But I can attest that another chance I never thought would come has made me the happiest I’ve felt in twenty years.”
Anya swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “Thank you.”
The woman studied her for a moment with a smile, and then picked up the check. “Thank you for coming in today.” And then she was gone. Like a ghost, or an angel.
The woman wouldn’t leave her alone, even after Anya had settled into her taxi. Her fists clenched at her sides. Anya had set a firm boundary with Dmitry and proceeded to break it, several times, and then she had stepped away again. This whole thing was so confusing. He was probably even more confused. What did she want? Hadn’t he asked her that so many times? Why did everyone’s opinion matter to her more than her own?
And then she leaned forward to ask the driver to take her somewhere else. To Papa’s office. Because she couldn’t sit still for another second and she didn’t know what to do about it, and when she didn’t know what to do she had to go talk to a particular receptionist until the ache of indecision left her stomach. Though she didn’t know what she was deciding, exactly… But it didn’t matter. Maybe she would kiss him again. Maybe she would tell him she met his mother and now she knew where he got that nervous twitch of his hands and maybe he needed to know that he was just one of the loveliest people she’d ever met. Maybe he needed to know she didn’t care about anything else anymore. Maybe she missed him, and maybe that was all that mattered now.
With shaking hands she dialed the number to her father’s office because if he was still there then Dmitry would be too. It went straight to voicemail, and instead of doing the rational thing and waiting, she just purged herself of these thoughts, knowing Dmitry wouldn’t let the message gather dust. Maybe it was stupid and childish. But maybe he needed to know either way. He hadn’t responded to her texts lately so if she wanted to get ahold of him this was the proper strategy.
“Hi Ernie,” she gasped to the doorman after running inside and nearly slipping on the vinyl floor, “is Papa still in?”
The doorman who’d worked here longer than even her father blinked in confusion at her urgency. “Yes, he hasn’t left yet, but—”
“Thank you!” With that she continued her race, taking the stairs because the elevator would only slow her down.
But when she reached the top the front desk was empty. As was the rest of the floor. A lamp was lit through the window of her father’s office, so she tapped at the glass, and he smiled, waving her inside. “Anastasia, what a lovely surprise!”
Anya decided to hurry through the pleasantries. “Why is no one at the desk?”
“Oh, I sent Greta home. She means well, bless her, but she’s a useless replacement.”
She blinked. “Replacement?”
“Yes, dear. For Dmitry.” When she only stared blankly he asked, “You didn’t know? Dmitry quit, just a few days ago. Quite out of the blue if you ask me.” Papa sighed like it was a shame. “He said he found a better opportunity in Boston and there was nothing keeping him here. As much as it pains me to see him go, who am I to stop him from his aspirations?”
A crushing weight fell onto her chest. She had missed him. Suddenly her legs felt unstable, so she sat down in the chair in front of her father’s desk, unable to absorb what was going on.
“Are you alright, my dear?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, I was rather disappointed as well when he told me. Dmitry’s a nice young man— there certainly aren’t many like him around— but I can’t figure out how this change has happened so suddenly.”
Anya swallowed. “I know why.”
Her father’s eyebrows narrowed, questioning her crypticness.
“I think I broke his heart.”
March 14th
Dmitry’s conversation with Nicholas Romanov was simple.
He explained everything very concisely and plainly (except the truth regarding what he felt for Anya, of course). There just wasn’t anything keeping him here, he’d said, and he felt it was time for him to look for a job where he could move up the corporate ladder. Nicholas regretted this, but shook his hand all the same, parting ways amicably, as they agreed on his two weeks’ notice. He didn’t bother explaining it to Anya, since she would find out eventually. Maybe it would be easier that way.
It wasn’t her fault. None of it was. After that scene in the elevator Dmitry just decided the only way they could move forward was if he stepped out of the picture entirely, simple as that. No regrets, no harbored bitterness, no hard feelings.
He said as much when he explained it all to Vlad that night, but his friend didn’t react the way he expected. “You quit?”
“Yeah.” Dmitry shrugged and pulled the fridge open, digging around instead of revealing any emotion towards the matter. Now there was plenty of room for the pair of them to finish unloading the rest of the groceries. “I thought that’s what you wanted me to do from the beginning.”
“No no, it’s not—” Vlad sighed and closed the fridge door to make Dmitry stop. “I just want you to be happy. I didn’t want you to make yourself miserable when I know you deserve the best, that’s all.”
Dmitry stared at his friend. “I’m taking agency. I won’t be miserable much longer, I swear.” He hoped, at least. After a pause he said, “You still have that friend at that firm in Boston?”
Vlad nodded. “I’ll call him, if that’s what you want. He can get you an interview.”
The job in Boston would bring him closer to his mother. For now, that was the relationship he had to focus on.
“But what about those you’re leaving behind?”
“Vlad,” Dmitry set a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t goodbye, I promise.”
“Not me,” Vlad said, gently irritated in the way only Vlad could manage, “the girl you’re clearly in love with.”
Dmitry swallowed and looked away, cheeks burning. “I don’t know, Vlad. I just… I didn’t want her to feel like she had to wait around for me.” He sighed. “So it’s better if I leave the picture altogether.” He cautiously met his friend’s eyes, his gaze heartbroken. Before Vlad could respond he carried on unloading the produce as a silent message that the conversation was over.
Later, at dinner, his mother had a similar sentiment. “Are you sure this will make you happy?”
“Of course,” he said, smiling to ensure he meant it. She had invited him to her apartment for dinner but he still wasn’t quite familiar with being completely alone with her again yet. The holidays had been different, yes. But casual catch-up dinners still needed an audience and pleasant public civility to keep them both accountable. So, they still met at this diner in Jersey City regularly and Dmitry was perfectly content with this arrangement, even if he was planning on working harder to mend their relationship. “A new change of routine will be good for me. For both of us.”
She still seemed troubled. Sometimes it was hard to look at her, that hard frown of unsaid disapproval chillingly similar to the one he saw in the mirror. “You’re not… running away, are you?”
Dmitry’s jaw clenched. “I’m not running away.” He set his fork down. “New York has become a dead end. I’m only doing what makes sense.”
“Just… don’t leave things unfinished, Dmitry, the way I did all those years ago.”
His fists tightened under the table. He’d let go of all of their history, yes, but the acknowledgement still made his chest sting. A horrible voice whispered that he’d only inherited a cold anger from his father and a desire to flee from his mother, but he shook it away. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t running from anything— he was simply bowing out gracefully. He knew a dead end when he saw one.
Why did he have to keep explaining that?
“I get the feeling that our relationship isn’t the one you need to mend right now.”
The words made his eyes snap up to hers. “What do you mean?”
She sighed. “You’ve seemed despondent. I don’t know if that means you’re running from someone, maybe you’re running before they leave you first…”
“I’m not—” he bit his lip and checked his tone, and continued in a quieter voice, “I’m not running away from anyone.”
“But you’d tell me if you are?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, surprised by his own honesty. But if anything these past few months had taught him that he needed guidance more than he thought. “Just… not yet. I’ll tell you about her one day, when I’ve let her go.”
He still couldn’t read her expression, but his mother gave him the faintest nod, and that made him a little relieved. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted someone to assure him of how for once he thought he was doing the right thing.
Just then his phone buzzed again. He rolled his eyes at the interruption, but Dmitry excused himself. He never looked at his phone when he was in company, but it had been ringing for a third time now so he picked it up, assuming it was urgent. He frowned when he saw the caller ID. His mother gave him a look, encouraging him to answer. If Dmitry hung up he could live in blissful ignorance and carry on with his plans. If he clicked the green button he knew it would turbulate his footing even more.
He did just that and held the phone to his ear, bracing himself for what was to come.
The next morning, Dmitry was standing in front of his old workplace, regretting his decision to meet here. Nicholas hadn’t contacted him since he quit, so he thought it was a little out of the blue to request his presence at the office. But Dmitry complied and made his way up the elevator as promised. His palms were moist and clammy. The building had remained unchanged to the naked eye, but the atmosphere was different. Familiar faces glanced his way with questioning stares and he couldn’t figure out why, but he was nervous getting this much attention.
His old desk was empty. He had been asked to help find a temporary replacement for the assistant job, but Nicholas must not’ve been very pleased with this one. How Dmitry had slipped by all those months without being fired on the spot would remain a mystery to him.
Nicholas was already waiting at the door of his private office. Not for the first time, Dmitry was more than a little intimidated by the man, in spite of his warm smile. “Dmitry,” he greeted, letting him pass through, “thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”
“Thank you for calling,” Dmitry answered. He waited for Nicholas to sit in his chair before he took a seat himself.
“Well,” Nicholas folded his hands together, getting right to it, “I’ve been pondering over the events of the past year, Dmitry, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s nearly time for me to retire.”
Dmitry raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes. We all— my family and I— had a lengthy conversation together the other night, and I’ve decided the stress will take me away from them too quickly, so it’s time to at least start considering what it will look like for me to open this seat for someone else.”
Dmitry didn’t know what to say. It was a lot to absorb— the man loved his work the way he loved his children. Did he seem heartbroken to say goodbye? How much pride did he have to swallow before calling him? After meeting his eyes again Dmitry decided, after the many months of dreadful phone calls from the doctor, the stress and change and tension of the office, the long board meetings, the late nights away from his family… it must’ve added up. Because there was nothing but relief and anticipation for what was to come. “Congratulations, sir, that’s a big deal.”
“Thank you.” He smiled. “It’s hard to admit when you’re old.”
Dmitry nodded, then frowned, itching in his seat. “Um… forgive me for asking, but… why am I here?”
That made his old supervisor chuckle. “That’s a good question.” Nicholas stroked his beard in thought. “Well, you see, this transition will be a lengthy one if we want to maintain the stability of this company. Everyone will have some learning to do, as will I, since it will take me a while to properly relinquish control.”
Dmitry nodded.
“I know you’re ready to move onto a job with a better salary, but you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. So my proposition to you is this: someone will need to replace me. But I’ll need someone to help me look for the right person… and you’ve seen the ins and outs of this company. You’ve seen the good and the ugly. There’s no one more suited for a search committee than you by my side.” Dmitry blinked, searching for a trick, a lie, a catch. There was none. “Along with finding my replacement amongst the current employees, my children, and a pool of outside hires, I could use your help transitioning some of my responsibilities to my subordinates. It would be a temporary job, of course. But you’d be coordinating more than you had in the past and helping me a great deal with such a unique position.”
Dmitry inhaled, soaking it all in.
“In exchange, I can get you an interview with whomever you’d like in my acquaintance. I’ve got connections with various accounting firms you’d be more than qualified for if that’s the type of position you’re aspiring to fill.” He gave him a smile.
A pause meant Nicholas was finished and waiting for Dmitry to respond. “That’s a lot to take in, sir.”
“Indeed,” Nicholas rushed. “You don’t have to decide right away. Take your time to think it over.” A beat. “Oh, and… I haven’t shared this with any of my peers here yet, so if you could be discreet, that would be appreciated.”
“Of course.” Dmitry rubbed the back of his neck. “Your family is aware, though, right?”
“They are.” He sat back in his seat. “They’re not aware of me bringing you back yet, however. Not all of them anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Nicholas paused like he was deciding what to say. Finally he sighed, eyes smiling, and said, “Anastasia is the one who gave me the idea to call you, Dmitry.”
“Oh.”
“So you have her insistence to thank for this opportunity, should you accept it.”
“Oh,” Dmitry was once again at a loss for words. He cleared his throat.
“But take your time, I’d like to know by tomorrow so I can start crafting a transition plan to present to our investors at the end of the week.”
Dmitry nodded, distracted. He stood but he hesitated. “Can I take a lap around the building?”
“Of course! Stay as long as you need.”
Dmitry took a big gulp of air as he let the office door shut behind him. The whole floor was hushed with just the sounds of typing and the occasional phone ringing. No one looked in his direction and for some reason that was more eerie than everyone watching him walk in. He wandered around his desk, letting his fingers trail over the keyboard in thought. He couldn’t make sense of it. If he accepted the offer he’d have to cancel his exit plans. Everything in him said it made more sense to leave.
But something made him doubt that notion. Was it his mother’s words, telling him not to run away? Was it how everything was sweeter in hindsight? As exhausting as that job had been, he really did love working with Nicholas. He hated everyone else in the office for the most part. But the Romanov kids were all right. He wondered what his father would think of the position, if he’d approve of Dmitry moving up the way he wanted or scoff at his betrayal of the working class. His mother would simply be proud, he thought. She’d understand the change of plans.
He caught sight of an old sticky note that had never been thrown away, one with a joke scribbled in familiar handwriting. Ah, right. Anya. As weird as things had gotten between them, he didn’t regret a single second, and… god, every moment was something he’d always cherish. She had completely shaken the entire trajectory of his life in every way. Maybe he could handle running into her every once in a while. Maybe one day his heart would stop hurting.
A light on the phone made him roll his eyes. How was no one else bothered by any messages left on the voicemail? Since he was here he might as well jot down the caller to pass onto Nicholas.
Still standing, he held the receiver to his ear and pressed the few commands to play the remaining messages. Just one from a few nights ago, apparently. And then the voice on the other line when he pressed play made his heart freeze in his chest.
“Dmitry,” her voice sounded rushed and breathless and it set his heart hammering, “hi. It’s Anya. I’m actually on my way there now to talk to you but for some reason I just— I needed to talk to you now, in case I miss you. I miss you a lot, by the way. The driver is staring at me through the mirror like I’ve just grown two heads.” Dmitry laughed, surprised by the lump in his throat and the tightness in his chest. How could she still have such an effect on him? “But I— I know I’m not making much sense, but hear me out for a second.”
He knew this message was several days old. He didn’t write down the date. But it didn’t matter, because it felt like his own thoughts had made her materialize and he could never wrap his head around the concept of her sparing him an ounce of her attention anyway. So he clung onto that receiver like a lifeline.
“So, like— I know so much has happened, not just between us but in general, and I know so much has been said… and I know I’ve been upset about the risk of getting caught with you, but like— that’s the thing, I think. I think I was scared of how you made me feel, or if you didn’t feel the same way, or something, I don’t really know. And I’m not someone who gets scared often, so I don’t know if I handled that well… but the point is I’m not scared anymore. Of any of it. I’m not scared of what anyone else thinks. I’m not even scared of you hating me after this message.”
Distantly he was aware of the elevator ringing and rolling open. He didn’t pay attention, too absorbed in the words. But that same sense that pulled him to the phone in the first place made him glance up. And then he had to look again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, because Anya was there. Just as radiant as before. He was afraid if he looked away she would vanish. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend that lump in his throat thickened and it was hard to swallow.
Anya didn’t see him at first. And then she did, and she froze in the middle of her confident stride, but slowly made her way to his desk, almost shy. Neither of them spoke. Only the desk divided them as they both remained standing. He had trouble processing it all— her words in his ear, her standing and staring silently before him. He wondered if she knew what he was listening to.
“I know I shouldn’t be saying all this over the phone— in a stupid voicemail, for god’s sake— but I don’t know when I’m going to get to talk to you again so I just— here it is.” She took a deep breath and Dmitry smiled to himself at the image of her seriousness. “I think you’re the one I’m supposed to fall in love with.”
Dmitry felt his smile fade into shock. “Not that we don’t have a choice or anything— but like… I don’t think you’ve been stuck on my heart without reason, Dmitry.” She sighed and he pictured her running a hand through her hair. “But that’s— that’s the main point, I guess. I’m just a block away from the office, so maybe I’ll see you and not chicken out and you’ll hear it from me first, or you won’t be there and you’ll hear this message first… But yeah. I don’t know how to end this. Bye.”
The line went dead. Dmitry tried swallowing again, tried breathing again, but failed epically. He cleared his throat and let the receiver lower from his ear and found his voice after clearing his throat. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Her nose was pink from the March winds. She was so loveable his chest hurt.
“I, uh, didn’t know you’d be here today.”
“My father called me here, he said it was important— I didn’t know you were… here.”
“I see.” He felt his lips tug into a smile, already lost in the chokehold her eyes had on him. “He called me here as well.” When he glanced back in question at his office, he saw the blinds had been pulled shut. Suspicious move, Romanov.
“Did he?”
“He offered me another job.”
No surprise or emotion showed in her face at all, which confirmed that she indeed knew about the offer. “Are you gonna take it?”
He bit his lip. “I don’t know yet.” Her eyes dropped, nodding to hide the disappointment he could read on her face. “He told me you’re the one who orchestrated it.” She still stared at the ground. “No one’s ever believed in me like that before—” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “Why would you do so much for me?”
She shrugged. “I just— I just thought you deserve a chance.” She swallowed. “It’s sort of a last ditch effort to get you to stay in New York.”
He nodded. He looked down, the receiver was still in his hand. It didn’t feel real. None of it did. “I had it all figured out, you know. I was going to start somewhere fresh, work my way up the corporate ladder the way I initially intended.” He met her eyes again. “I thought when you hit a dead end you’re supposed to go the other way. Now…” his jaw clenched, “I’m not sure.”
She fidgeted with her coat for a second. Nothing about Anya ever communicated insecurity to him before, she had always been so full of intent and conviction he wondered how she wasn’t exhausted, but now it was clear she was nervous. “Did he change your mind?” she finally asked in a small voice.
He shook his head. “It was more a change of heart.”
“Nothing about your heart needs to change.”
Her words made his eyes sting. He blinked and waved the receiver. “I was just… I, uh, got your message.”
She ducked her head and blushed. “Oh, that.”
“So,” to stop himself from crying he decided to tease her, “you think you’re gonna fall in love with me, huh?”
Her smile was sheepish. “If I haven’t already.” A pause as he let his heart expand in his chest with hope while he waited for her to continue. “But if— if you don’t want anything to do with this whole messy thing we’ve started, I get it. I just… thought you should know how I feel, I guess.”
He blinked. “You mean— you still feel that way? Even though you didn’t hear from me at all?”
She slowly nodded. “Every word.”
His smile was watery as he dropped the receiver where it belonged. He’d waited long enough. They both had. “I don’t know much about… anything, really,” he started as he stepped slowly around his desk, until he was facing her, until there was nothing between them but hope. “But the only thing I’m sure about is how I want to spend the rest of my life feeling the way you make me feel.”
“I think I know what you mean.” She was right in front of him. Her eyes wouldn’t let him go.
He swallowed, watching her, like he was seeing her for the first time. In a way he was. “Um…” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to kiss you now if that’s okay.”
She beamed, eyes watery. “Only if you promise it’s not goodbye.”
She met him halfway, smiling as he cupped the side of her face and leaned down until their lips met. It was like he was kissing her for the first time— or just kissing for the first time, period. All of those butterflies went wild in his stomach and his hand started shaking at his side until she pressed a hand over his heart and he sighed. She was here, she was real, and she thought he was worth her time. She tasted like lipstick and March winds and the hope of spring all at once. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, under her eye, and he felt her smile into him and it did something insane to his already somersaulting stomach. God, she had ruined him.
Someone wolf-whistled but he ignored it. He didn’t care. The most wonderful woman he’d ever met was kissing him and was willing to love him, and nothing would squash this moment. Until:
“Boo, get a room.”
Dmitry pulled away with a groan and an angry flare flashed up his spine. “Marfa, I swear to god—”
“Dima,” Anya hummed, her tone light. She had a thumb pressed to his lip. “Shh, it’s okay.”
“But people need to mind their business!”
“Hey,” she held his face, their noses brushing. “It’s okay, I don’t care what anyone else has to say anymore.”
She had warned him about this, about the lack of privacy in her life. Her eyes seemed to ask if he knew what he was signing up for. And then he decided he no longer cared either, for her sake. Instead of telling her he just pressed his smile to hers again. This was right. They were right. They were okay. For once, the world was theirs, and they could decide what to do with it. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked quietly, nodding behind him towards Nicholas’s office.
Her smile widened. “He can wait.” Her eyes were so blue in the light today, he almost didn’t hear what she had to say next. “Have you thought about his offer?”
He nodded. One of his hands glided down her arm until their fingers were intertwined. “You won’t get sick of me if I stick around?”
She pretended to ponder. “I doubt it.” And then she stood on her toes to kiss him again. Her arms had draped over his neck and his hands found a home on her back, keeping her close. Not that she was going anywhere.
For the first time in his life, with Anya in his arms and a big band love song in his head, Dmitry believed he was right where he was supposed to be.