Zoya

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing her again, his powerful arms holding her close, feeling her heart beat against his chest, and then he looked at her and smiled. “Let's go somewhere … away … anywhere … it would do us both good”

“I can't”

“Yes, you can … we can.” He held tightly to her hand and felt himself come alive again. The years seemed to fall away from him as he looked at her. He was young again and he wasn't going to let her get away from him. If he had to live with Allison for the rest of his life, then maybe at least, for one shining moment, he could have Zoya.

“Paul, this is crazy,” she pulled away from him, and walked around the room, seeing Simon's face in their photographs, glancing at his trophies, his treasures, his art books. “We don't have a right to this.”

But he wasn't going to let her go now. If she had slapped his face, he would have apologized and left, but he could see now that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. “Why not? Who makes those rules? You're not married. I am, but not in any way that means anything to anyone. I haven't been in years. I'm trapped in a marriage of form to a woman who doesn't even know I'm alive, and hasn't loved me in years, if she ever did … don't I have a right to more than that? I'm in love with you,” his eyes fought for what he so desperately wanted, as she watched him.

“Why? Why do you love me, Paul?”

“Because you're exactly what and who I've always wanted.”

“I can't give you very much.” She was honest with him, as she had always been with Clayton and Simon. “Even a little of you will be enough, I understand that.” And then, more quietly he kissed her, and much to her own amazement, she didn't fight him. They sat and talked for hours after that, kissing, holding hands, and it was after midnight when he left, promising to call her the next day, and she sat in the quiet apartment, feeling guilty when he left. It was wrong, it had to be … wasn't it? What would Simon think? But Simon wouldn't think anything, he was gone, and she was alive, and Paul Kelly meant something to her too. She valued his friendship, and he had stirred something in her she had all but forgotten. She was still sitting there, thinking about him, when she heard Sasha come in, and she walked quietly into her room. She was wearing a bright red dress and her makeup was smeared, and Zoya didn't like the look on her face. She suspected that she was drunk, and she had confronted her about it before. She faced her with tired eyes now. It was exhausting always fighting with her.

“Where have you been?” Her voice was calm, she was still thinking of Paul as she looked her daughter over.

“Out.” She turned her back so her mother couldn't see her face. Zoya was right. She was drunk, but still beautiful.

“Doing what?”

“Having dinner with a friend.”

“Sasha, you're only eighteen, you can't run around anywhere you like. What about school?”

“I graduate in two months, what difference does it make now?”

“It makes a big difference to me. You have to behave yourself. People will talk if you're too wild, they know who you are, who I am. You don't want all that, Sasha. Please be sensible.” But there was no hope of that, and hadn't been long since. Since Simon had died and her brother had gone, Sasha had run wild, and Zoya had almost given up hope of controlling her, she was afraid to lose her entirely. More than once, she had threatened to move out, which would have been even worse. At least this way Zoya had some idea of what was going on and what she was doing.

“That's a lot of old-fashioned crap,” Sasha said as she tossed her dress on the floor and stalked the room in her slip. “People don't believe in that garbage these days.”

“People believe in the same things they always did. You're coming out this year. You don't want them saying ugly things about you, sweetheart.” Sasha shrugged and didn't answer her, and with a sigh Zoya kissed her good night, smelling the liquor on her breath, the smoke in her hair, as she looked at her unhappily. “I don't want you to drink.”

“Why not? I'm of age.”

“That's not the point.”

Sasha only shrugged again and turned her back until her mother left. It was pointless even talking to her. Zoya longed for Nicholas to come home, maybe he would still have some influence on her. Surely no one else did. And now Zoya worried about what would happen when Sasha started coming into the money Simon had left. She would really go wild then, if someone didn't stop her before that. She was still thinking about it when the phone rang at one o'clock. Her heart stopped for an instant, fearing terrible news. But it was Paul. He was at home, but he had decided to call her. Allison slept locked in her own room, and after leaving Zoya's warmth, he was doubly lonely.

“I just wanted to tell you how much tonight meant to me. you've given me something very special.”

“I don't know how, Paul,” her voice was low and soft, and in her mind, she had given him very little. A few kisses and the warmth of a moment.