34. Anastasia
Anastasia
T his is the first Christmas Day I haven’t spent with my parents, but being with Rhett, the day has never felt more complete. There’s a weight of sorrow as we pause outside a tall block of apartments—the one he shared with Sarah that he’s never sold.
I squeeze his hand laced through mine, pulling him gently toward the entrance.
“Which floor?” I ask, slipping a hand into the pocket I saw him tuck his keys into.
His eyes speak the gratitude he can’t voice. “Six,” he says quietly. “Apartment 6F.”
I smile, trying to assure him in every way that I want to be here, and he will never be alone again even if we come here every year for this.
Unlocking the apartment door, I wait for him to guide us in the rest of the way.
It takes him a moment, and I’m about to offer to stay outside, but he moves and I go with him, flicking on lights as we make our way down the narrow hall.
I stay silent, observing the humble space that I imagine was once bright and cozy but is now neglected and cold.
Rhett told me how he stays here over Christmas every year.
Alone. Last night was the first year since Sarah’s death he didn’t, and part of me feels guilty for taking that away from him if he only slept at the hotel for my safety.
I told him I wanted to come here if he was willing, not knowing why it felt so important until now.
Being here is part of him, and I need to see it.
His past, his present, but I hope it isn’t his future now I’ve painted myself in it without knowing if he’ll reject that notion.
At some point he lets me go, and I gravitate around the space as if I’m a ghost here only to capture everything I can about Rhett, even Sarah, as she was once everything to him.
Picking up a photo frame, I don’t know how to place my feeling at the sight of them together.
“You’re into blondes,” I comment lightheartedly. “I never stood a chance.”
She’s absolutely stunning, and I grieve the life of an innocent, selfless stranger who deserved far more time than she got.
Rhett is across the space in the open plan kitchen like he doesn’t know where to place himself in his own former home anymore.
He smiles sadly. “I think what drew me to Sarah is that she was everything I’m not.
So kind and gentle. Maybe I thought she would make me forget the world I’m from. Change me into a better man.”
“You don’t have to change.” I want to say more. To tell him no one is perfect to everyone, but everyone is perfect to someone. And he’s mine. Every sharp edge and dangerous curve. He’s my kind of perfect and I want every piece of him, just the way he is or not at all.
I find a broken wall mirror in the bedroom.
As I draw closer I discover three impact points.
They could be from something being thrown at it, except each break has lines of dark crimson, and I realize something.
Rhett comes up behind me and I take his hand before it meets my waist, glancing down at his scarred knuckles. Now I have the story to them.
Three years. Three breaks. Too many scars to count.
I kiss his knuckles with a silent promise there won’t come another. Not this way.
“I think I’m ready to sell this place,” he says.
Turning from our broken reflection, I scan his face, and while it’s filled with sorrow, I want to believe there’s freedom lifting in him with the decision.
“We can arrange for it to be emptied once you’ve taken anything of value out and I’ll organize the sale. You don’t have to come back here.”
Rhett’s eyes close as he cups my jaw and kisses my forehead. “I have everything of value to me.”
My eyes prick with the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you for showing me this part of you.”
“I only wanted to come one last time. Truthfully, when I flew here, I didn’t know this would be the last. Then I saw you and I broke. I realized right then I can’t keep revisiting the past. Not if I want to see the future.”
I push up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “What’s in this future?” I whisper against his lips.
His arms circle me, pressing our bodies together. “A house with a wraparound porch.”
My smile breaks to a grin. “Mm-hmm,” I coax.
“And a labradoodle as a friend for a black German shepherd.”
“Maybe a pond with ducks.”
“Is that safe with the dogs?”
“They’ll learn ‘friends not food.’”
“Speaking of food––I know it’s not traditional, but our only option might be Chinese takeout with every restaurant fully booked for Christmas dinner.”
I pull at the folds of his coat. “Luckily for us, my father was able to pull strings, and there’s a table waiting for us at a nearby rooftop hotel restaurant. We have a room there too before we fly back tomorrow.”
I turn giddy at his look of shock.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t make me show you. You’re not ready for what I would do.”
“I’m ready for anything you can throw at me, Anastasia.”
We lock the front door and Rhett doesn’t even look back as we exit the building.
There’s only forward now, and I squeeze his hand.
“Thank you, by the way, for the violin,” I say. “It’s the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.”
The streets are deserted and light snow starts to fall. It’s a peaceful cloudy day.
“I just wanted you to know I was there with you. Even miles away.”
I’m overcome with love for this man. It’s like nothing I’ve felt before, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I realize now it’s always been there, but it needed time to grow before I could accept it as a promise and not a fleeting thing.
“You said you’re ready for anything I can throw at you,” I say, letting go of his hand and bending down.
My gloved hands gather snow. As I flick a devious look up, I gasp when Rhett clocks onto my meaning before I can form a proper snowball. He makes one from the hood of a car, and I squeal, ducking behind the feeble protection of a lamppost before he throws it at me.
Giggles burst from me as I toss my pathetic, misshapen lump that doesn’t come close to hitting him.
Then our battle erupts and the last of the daylight infuses with our carefree laughter and antics.
Darting across roads, ducking behind cars.
Rhett has never looked so young and burdenless.
It swells in my chest and I never want it to end.
This. Us. And the many beautiful days we’ll have just like this one.