It’s impressive, and whoever owns it must really care about the place.
In all honesty, it looks like one of the luxury garages I used to eye in magazines all the time. The ones I used as inspiration for mine back in New York, but with a much tighter budget.
As I pop the door open and step out, I glance between him and the building. “What is this?”
Sergey walks around to me and reaches into his jacket, pulling out a single key. He holds it out like it’s some prized artifact he found along the way.
“It’s yours,” he says simply, not elaborating.
I blink at him. “What?”
A grin cracks across his face while he hands me the key, essentially dropping it into my palm. “I bought it for you, then had it renovated and set up the necessary permits. It’s a full auto body shop complete with everything you’ll ever need. You said you missed your work…and I figured you shouldn’t have to give that up just because of all this.”
My heart lodges in my throat, unable to find the words while it all attempts to register in my mind.
Feeling almost starry-eyed, I stare at the building, then back at him, trying to process it all. “You’re giving me a garage…just because I miss my old one?”
“I’m giving you your life back,” he says simply. “Or at least part of it, anyway.”
Something unfamiliar burns in my chest while I stare at him in complete disbelief. Alongside it, there’s gratitude, confusion, and something damn close to affection that takes me by surprise.
Despite feeling almost locked up from the shock of it all, I accept the key and feel the lingering warmth in it from his grasp.
Looking into his eyes again, there are so many things I want to say, but I can’t seem to manage a single one.
“I know it isn’t New York,” he adds, softer now, almost like he has thought this over again and again, aware of what it means to me. “But if you want to bring Roland out here, I’ll help set it up. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
I can’t speak for a long moment while my throat feels too tight.
Given how abrasive he had been about Roland being in my life before, I don’t imagine it’s an easy concession for him to make. That has to count for something.
“Why?” I finally manage to whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes meet mine, steady and unflinching. There’s a sincerity in his eyes that I can’t begin to doubt.
“Because I know I’ve taken a lot from you. And because…I want you to want to be here with me. Not just because you’re stuck. You shouldn’t have to choose between this life and the one you built for yourself because I said so. You’re too strong a person…you don’t deserve to be reduced to a housewife when you want so much more.”
My knees feel weak, and something in me is fighting to not fall apart completely at the gesture.
I turn away, pretending to inspect the garage, but I mostly need a second to breathe. And I know that if I look at him for too long, I might just crack entirely.
The garage is immaculate with wide bay doors and polished concrete floors. State-of-the-art equipment fills the outside perimeter of the open space, with workbenches that are far larger than the one I had back in New York. Even the smell is familiar, laced with new tires, metal, and potential. It reminds me of home, and of how things used to be.
In a way, it makes my heart ache for everything I gave myself before. And now, Sergey is trying to do it for me.
He follows me inside but keeps his distance, allowing me to take it in on my own time. I’m grateful for the space to process it all.
I run my fingers over the edge of a metal workbench, already picturing the projects I could line up and the cars we could bring in. For the first time since landing in Vegas, I feel something like purpose stirring in my chest again. The drive Ican never fully shake off, even if I had every right to live an easier life given my circumstances.
“You did all of this?” I ask, finally willing myself to look back at him.
He shrugs his shoulders as if it were nothing at all. “I had to keep myself busy while you were avoiding me.”
As much as I don’t want him to see just how much it all means to me, I fight back a subtle smile and lose the battle for the most part. “You’re aggravating.”
“Maybe I am.” Sergey murmurs while he moves closer, voice quieter now. “But I’m trying, Kat. I’m trying to be better. For you.”
Facing him, I take up a few more of those steps between us, and for once, I find that the mask he usually wears is completely gone. There’s nothing but raw sincerity in his expression.
