Silence stretched for some time.
“Down where?” she finally asked.
“On the floor.” I lifted a hand.
Her head popped over the side of the bed, hair falling wildly around her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose and lips stained the color of cherries. She blinked at me for several seconds before her mouth opened and a roaring laugh came out.
“How did you get down there?” she asked when she could breathe normally, wiping at her wet eyes.
“You have changed. You no longer want to share a bed with me.”
This made her launch into a fit of laughter again. Finally, when she could, she sighed and gave me a hand up. I tucked myself in beside her, under her frilly girl blankets. Cold had never bothered me, I ran hot, but the apartment felt damp. And I was worried about her; Scarlett didn’t do well in the cold.
“The heat must be broken.”
She tucked her feet against mine, adding to the chill, and murmured something about my body being hot, even after being on the floor. “No, it’s not broken,” she said, bringing her voice up. “It’s just not enough to keep you fully warm. Unless the fireplace is lit.”
“How do you stand it?”
The expression on her face went blank before she recovered and shrugged. I watched her for some time as she kept her eyes glued to the ceiling. Every so often a tear would drip, leftover from her laughter or her sadness.
“Ballerina Girl.”
A trembling breath left her mouth before she smiled at the familiar term.
“The days wounded me. The nights finished me off. You haunted my dreams.” I cleared my throat, tensing all over. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have denied us both for so long.”
Entangling our hands, she let her free hand explore my skin, cool to my hot, running along my collarbone.
I lifted our hands, kissing her lower palm. “Perdonami.”
She studied me for some time, saying nothing. Giving me the chance to staunch the wounds the words created.
“Forgive me,” I repeated, needing her to see the truth behind the words, needing her to feel the sincerity. Peace and healing would never come if she refused to forgive the conviction. “The decision was the right one, just misguided, and for far too fucking long.”
She rested her forehead against mine, closing her eyes. Her breath washed over my face, still smelling of anise.
“I know my limits, Brando. I was so close to reaching them. You have to understand. Being sincere and putting us first means that you have to allow me to have a say. It’s not me. It’s not you. It’s for the greater good of us.Twocreates an us.”
Time stretched, yawning with the breath of dawn. The first rays of watered sunlight soaked through the thin lace curtains. The same blue that had touched her in the night touched her again, making her look too fragile, too pale. Her hair seemed too dark. Her eyes came close to an alien green.
She turned on her side and opened the bedside table. She pulled out two suckers, handing me one. We watched the sun fully rise and we both bit in. Neither of us took the time to savor. We both wanted the same thing. The center. The heart.
“Tell me.”
Her eyes found mine again, this time so close that I had to move away to see her face. Then I let my eyes linger on the men’s things I had found in the boxes.
She bounced up like a cat that had been electrocuted, her hair standing on end, reflexes fast and sharp. Her face was a mirror of shock. Color ran to her cheeks, bringing her to life in the cold blue.
“How did you—” She looked around the room, eyes frantic. She found the cologne on the dresser. She refused to look away.
Taking an elbow, I ran my fingertips along her back, along every curve and bone, over the black lace bra, under her hair, to her neck, caressing back and forth in slow, long lines. She was tense, every muscle rigid.
Her hands lifted and then came down with a slap against her legs. She laughed like a loon. “It’s too embarrassing! I can’t. I can’t tellyou.”
I said nothing, concentrating on the lines.
“All right,” she finally said, sighing in surrender. “I bought those things for you when I’d explore Paris. Your birthday, holidays, whenever I came across something that reminded me of you.” She nodded to the corner. “There they sit, collecting dust. The clothes and shoes are your size. Feel free to check. The rest are trinkets from places I’ve been. Places special enough to share with you.”
