Page 110 of Unrequited
She sighs like she already knew. Like she was just waiting for me to admit it.
“I knew you’d say no.”
“There are too many people depending on us,” I tell her, and it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
I think of them all, my brothers, my sisters, my men. My dad. My mom. Her family too. Even if she doesn’t know it yet, they’re part of this. Part of us.
I have to end the tyranny. I have to bring peace.
We have to end this war and break the chains we were both born into.
Our families, hers and mine, stand a better chance if I succeed.
I press a kiss to her shoulder.
“I need to put my baby in you, Zoya. And I need to protect you, now more than ever.”
“Do you think you’ll get arrested again?” she asks, her voice small and quiet.
“I’m wanted by the Russian mob,” I say, flat, deadpan. “So yeah. We’re not the kind of people who get to escape easily.”
“No,” she agrees softly.
I run my fingers through her hair, maybe to soothe her. Maybe to calm myself.
“I want you,” I tell her. “No matter what.”
“Where would you go,” she asks, “if we could?”
But she doesn’t wait for me to answer.
“Me, I’d go somewhere tropical,” she says, her voice turning wistful. “I’ve never had a tropical vacation. I think I’m due for one.”
I smile at that, at how fast she answered.
“And what would you do on this vacation?”
“I’d lie on a white sand beach and soak in the sun,” she murmurs, her eyes distant. “Then, when I got too hot, I’d dive into crystal-clear water. I’d collect seashells and make crafts. I’d drink pretty cocktails with little umbrellas.”
She pauses.
“I’d buy gifts for everyone. For my family. For the little ones. Jewelry, probably. Jewelry I’d never wear to anything fancy, but I’d have it, and it would sparkle.”
She trails off.
The weight of it all lands heavy on her chest and mine too. The reality claws its way in, cold and merciless. If we run… there’s no beach waiting for us at the end. No fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas. No family to get dumb souvenirs we would laugh about later.
“I’d eat food I’ve never tried before,” she adds, quieter now.
“What about you?” she asks.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I smile, soft and crooked, dragging my hand slowly across the warm, bare skin of her back.
“As long as I was with you, I think I’d be happy. I’d be a lucky bloke.”
She smiles, then lets out a yawn so delicate it tugs at something deep in me.
“You’re tired, love.”
