He leaves. I stand here in the dim light of this room. My freedom is at hand. I can go stay with Ilya just like I was debating on doing. And really, he’s right. It would be for the best if I left.
It would be… definitely…
I go back to bed and as I drift off to sleep, I dream of him, of sleeping in his arms safe and warm as the storm rages outside…
I’ve been lookingat the clock every few minutes as I pack the suitcase. These clothes aren’t exactly mine, but I don’t imagine he’ll have any use for them. Plus, they’re really nice. He won’t mind if I take them with me.
The meeting will probably be over soon and then he’ll come up here and take me away.
IfI still want to go…
Who am I kidding? He’s right. He can’t watch me twenty-four, seven. He can’t control everything despite his need to protect me. I need to take this offer and go back to my life. When I get back to Ilya’s, I’ll probably need to find a new job. I’ve been gone without so much as a phone call for the better part of this week. Even if the diner does take me back, I should probably consider working somewhere else where I’m not so easily found by my father.
And if he comes back to Ilya’s house…? It might be worse this time because Ilya will know where I am. If he doesn’t believe her?—
I slam my hands down on the pile of clothes before me. This is insane. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.
No, you’re not. Anton doesn’t want you to stay, so you have to go.
That’s not true. I saw it in his eyes. He wants me here just as badly as I want to stay.What am I doing?
A knock at my door draws my attention. I look up just as the door opens and Anton walks in.
“Time to go.”
I freeze.Close the suitcase and let’s go. This adventure is over, Natalya.
He tilts his head, his eyes looking down at the suitcase. “Don’t worry about the clothes,” he says. “They’re yours. You can take them all, if you like.”
He’s making this so easy. I don’t even have to say anything to him. I can just close the suitcase and follow him out. It’s so fucking easy.
So, why aren’t I moving?
“Natalya?”
I sigh and silently say goodbye to the idea of living on my own and always looking over my shoulder for my father. He’ll never forgive me for sleeping with Anton, and unless I can get away from him for good, he’ll always be looking to punish me for it one way or the other.
“I want to stay.” I say it without looking at him. I’m still looking at the neatly folded clothes in the suitcase.
“We went over this last night?—”
“I don’t care,” I say. I ground myself, standing firm in my shoes, and I look up at him. “I don’t want to leave. And I don’t think you want me to go.”
He just stares. His eyes dart over my face, trying to figure this out. “This isn’t a game, Natalya,” he says with a frown. “Yourfather is already upset about your being missing. It doesn’t make sense for you to be here anymore.”
“I. Don’t. Care. I’m not leaving.” The tone in my voice is effecting him. I can see he wants to respond, wants to bend his will to me. Instead, he breaks eye contact and looks up at the wall above and behind me.
“This isn’t up for debate,” he says. “Close the suitcase and let’s go.”
I stare at him. I could push it. The line in the sand is always drawn between us, it seems, and I am habitually stepping over it.
“Tell me you don’t want me here,” I say. He blinks as he turns his gaze to me.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’ve said a lot of things about what you should and shouldn’t do, but not once have to said that you don’t want me here. So, tell me you don’t want me anymore. Say that and I’ll leave.”
He clenches his jaw. “Why are you making this harder than it has to be? Yesterday, you were so hellbent on talking to your friend. I’m taking you to her now. I’m giving you what you want.”
