Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8. Tara Pammi
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need, this desire, this craving that only the other could satisfy.
Anya knew that if she looked up he would kiss her.
And so she looked up.
He kissed first her damp lashes, so that her eyes closed and the bliss of his kiss brought more tears. His mouth traced her cheeks and then went to her lips, where his kiss was soft, but never tentative.
She loathed his tender kisses, for they were not how things used to be and he had not learnt that from her, yet she ached for them too.
Their kiss deepened and his hands went to the thin cardigan she wore to cover her arms and slipped it off so that it dropped to the floor and his palms were now the warmth on her arms. ‘Stop covering yourself,’ he said.
He knew her every move.
Now he kissed her harder, a kiss that was familiar, and she felt herself sink into the intoxicating space that they found together. Their tongues told of the urgent quest for more and he pulled her tighter into him, and she stood on tiptoe just to feel more of him, fought not to climb onto him as she peeled her mouth from his and her direct words made him smile.
‘We are not having sex in the guest room at your niece’s christening.’
‘Then the uncouth relations really would have arrived,’ Roman said, and he smiled down at her because he had been determined to be a suave and suitable guest in Daniil’s home; he just hadn’t factored in having Anya there. ‘If we were caught that really would give them something to talk about.’
Anya peered out from his chest and frowned. This was no guest room, Anya realised. They had been so focused on each other that they hadn’t even taken in their surroundings.
‘Roman!’
He looked then too and realised that they were standing in a huge room. The floors were polished wood, and it was a vast exercise area, a gymnasium that had been set up for boxing. There were mirrors, weights, punching bags. Growing up, it would have been the stuff of his and Daniil’s dreams.
‘No boxing ring, though,’ Roman said.
For now he and Daniil fought with their demons and they fought them alone.
‘One day, perhaps,’ Anya said.
It was she now who soothed him. One day, perhaps he and Daniil might be able to speak properly. Libby couldn’t seem to understand why Daniil and Roman were not falling over each other in joy at being finally reunited.
Anya did.
There had been so much suffering and so much self-reliance to get to this point in their lives that it was hard to admit you might want to depend on someone else, or feel worthy of their love.
‘He has done so well,’ Roman said. ‘It is strange to see him grown up and now with a family...’
‘Are you jealous of him?’ Anya asked, but for her own reasons. There was something she needed to know. ‘I mean, he has a wife, a new baby—’
‘You don’t understand twins,’ Roman interrupted. ‘I’ve never been jealous of my brother. I’m happy that he has everything I ever wanted.’
And if that was everything Roman had wanted, there was something she could never give him.
A baby.
His answer pained her and to avoid his eyes she walked over to a shelf set in a wall. It reminded her of her dressing table before a performance—it was like a little altar that displayed what she guessed were Daniil’s most precious things. There was a photo of Daniil and Libby on their wedding day and one of Nadia too, as well as an ultrasound image. Anya knew that she was looking at something very private, and Roman, who now stood beside her, knew it too. There was a pink porcelain ornament and a few other things. Within the collection, though, there were two objects that she recognised.
‘I remember these being taken,’ Anya said as she took down two photos. ‘Sergio brought in his camera that day.’
One image was of Daniil and Roman in boxing shorts, holding their hands up in a fighting pose.
Roman was scowling in the photo and today it made Anya smile. ‘You just wanted to get the picture over and done with.’
‘I did,’ Roman said. ‘But I am glad now that he took it.’
‘Why did you give them to Daniil?’
‘I didn’t give them to him. I put them into his case. I thought it might help him if he had some photos from home.’
‘But that left you with none,’ Anya said, and she looked at the other photo. It was of the four boys, now men, and today they were finally together again.
‘We’re going back to Nikolai’s yacht after the party.’ Roman told her what had been arranged. ‘We’re going to catch up on all that has gone on.’
‘You’re not looking forward to it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll tell you afterwards how it goes.’
‘I shan’t be here, Roman. I’m flying back to Paris this afternoon.’
‘Anya, you know that we need to talk,’ he said.
This week he had come to the realisation that they did. He could not be apart from her again. They were back in each other’s lives.
It was Anya who resisted that now.
‘No, we will fight.’
‘So.’ Roman shrugged. ‘We know where our fights lead.’
Anya smiled but it changed midway and she shook her head.
‘I don’t want to know about your wife, Roman. I’m simply not ready to hear about it and I don’t know if I ever shall be. I can’t bear to hear about your life so I’m going back tonight and I meant what I said, I don’t want to see you in Paris.’
‘That’s a lie.’
‘In part,’ Anya admitted. ‘But it’s also the truth.’
But Roman was having none of it. ‘I have to catch up with the others but later tonight I’ll have my assistant charter a plane...’
‘See!’ Anya said. ‘Who are you? A man who gives platinum crosses with diamonds, a man who charters planes?’
‘I will tell you.’
‘But I can’t stand to hear it,’ she said.
‘Wait for me?’ he asked again, but she shook her head.
‘I waited so long for you, Roman. No more.’
And then she forced herself to ask the question that she dreaded hearing the answer to.
She knew Roman. He would not stay five minutes with a person he did not like.
He had spent years with Celeste.
‘Did you have feelings for her?’
Roman looked right into her eyes and he knew that to lie now would end them forever, but he was careful with his response. ‘Not the same feelings that I have for you.’
‘Had,’ Anya corrected. ‘Or you would not have stayed away.’
He said nothing.
‘Did you love her?’ she demanded, for he had never told her that he loved her.
He gave her the absolute truth. ‘There was a kind of love that grew.’
No!
She would never be ready to hear about it.
And she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth about babies either.
Their dreams had already been killed.
And so Anya