42. Ofelia
Ofelia
My phone rings at dawn. I hit the button on the second ring.
“Hello?” In the pause that follows, I know instinctively who it is. “Alexei?” I sit up in bed, clutching the phone. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“Not at all.” His voice rasps with exhaustion, but there’s no trace of the detached coldness I dread. “I’m sorry to call so early.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m happy you called.”
We sound like strangers.
“I just called because—” Alexei abruptly stops talking.
I can hear him breathing on the end of the line. I grip the phone so hard it hurts and stay silent, praying he’ll find a way to say whatever he needs to.
Please don’t let it be goodbye.
“Because a lot is going to change after tonight.” I can’t read the tension in his tone. It isn’t excitement, not quite. More like resolve.
“Change is good,” I say cautiously.
“Your father and I have been talking.”
Not so good.
“Oh?” I rub my temples with my thumb and forefinger.
“Your brother and I, too.”
Even worse.
“My father also had some things to say to me. He came to meet me in Paris.”
Oh, man.
“That’s a lot of quality family time, right there.”
That at least gets a huff of laughter. “More than I’m used to. Yes.”
“Sounds like we’re going to need a little time to ourselves after all this is over.” Subtle, Ofelia, really subtle. I grimace at my reflection in the mirror opposite my bed.
“Ofelia.” He sounds alarmingly intense.
Oh, fuck.
“Alexei.” I mimic his serious tone, injecting my own with a hint of mockery. Childish, perhaps. Also the best defense I can come up with, after multiple sleepless nights wondering if I’m ever going to see my fiancé again.
“Are you still wearing your ring?”
I splay my fingers out in front of me, unable to read the edge of uncertainty in his tone. “Of course.”
“Before—everything.” The way his voice roughens when he says everything tells me how much it hurts him to even think of what happened to Lars that day. “Before everything, I was planning to anchor in Sicily for some time.”
“You were?” I think of the late nights he was working before we got to Sicily, the distance I sensed. “I didn’t know that.”
Is this his way of saying he was having second thoughts?
“I was planning a surprise wedding there. If you agreed, of course.”
I’m so taken aback that all I can manage is a strangled, “Oh.”
“Ofelia?”
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“I should have spoken with you before I left Sicily. I just—I couldn’t.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “But what happened, Alexei, it wasn’t your fault—”
“It was.” He cuts me off, his tone hard.
The line falls silent, and I wonder if I’ve lost him altogether.
Eventually, he says, “I can’t change that.” His voice is bleak. “And I might never have the chance to tell Lars all the things I should have.” He pauses again. “But I can do better. That’s what I’m trying to do now.”
I nod slowly, but don’t speak.
“I love you,” he says roughly. “I should have told you that before I left. I certainly don’t want to let another day go by without telling you now.”
I grip the phone, barely able to breathe.
“Ofelia?”
The world of uncertainty in his tone fills my eyes. “I love you, too,” I whisper. “So much, Alexei.”
I can hear his deep, ragged breaths as he battles for control.
“It was wrong of me to leave without telling you that I planned to come back.” His voice isn’t quite steady.
“Then you do plan to come back?” I manage.
“I always wanted to come back, Ofelia. I just wasn’t sure if it was fair to you if I did.” He gives an unsteady laugh. “That one is still up for debate. But I asked you to marry me because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That hasn’t changed, for me.”
“It hasn’t changed for me, either,” I manage.
“That’s good.” There’s a slightly wired edge to his voice. “Because I’ve been giving it some more thought. And I wondered if a Sicilian wedding is still something you might agree to?”
I’m quite literally stunned into silence.
“Asking you this right now,” he goes on when I don’t speak, “with everything that’s going on, is probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.
But it occurred to me that Lars could wake up at any moment.
And if he does, and I haven’t already told you how I feel—” He breaks off, pausing to steady himself.
“I realized that when I did, you might wonder if I would ever have told you at all.”
I clutch the phone, listening to his labored breaths, wishing more than anything I could touch him.
“Worse,” he says, his voice so tight it’s barely there, “if Lars—if he doesn’t wake up—” He stops, and I hear him swallow.
“I want you to be my wife, Ofelia,” he says finally.
“No matter what happens, I want us to face it together. I want you to know that now, before another moment passes. To know that I choose us, no matter what.”
Yes.
I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until he says tentatively, “yes to what, exactly?”
“Yes, getting married in Sicily is something I agree to.” I make a noise that is half sob, half laugh. “Will it—does it need to happen quickly?”
“Well, I did tell you I’m allergic to the word fiancé.”
Hearing even an attempt at the dry humor I love so much makes my being ache. I give a choked laugh. “You did.”
“But back to the point.” Alexei pauses. “I called because I need you to know how I feel. The rest of it is up to you.”
“I don’t mind what happens after that,” I add hastily. “So long as my future is with you, I don’t care if we run forever.”
The silence on the other end of the line goes on long enough to make me worry that I’ve said the wrong thing. “Alexei? Are you still there?”
I hear him draw a ragged breath. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I’m still here.”
“Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” He says it then stops. “You just reminded me of something your father said.”
“Oh, dear.” I grimace. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Alexei actually laughs. “He was remarkably restrained, given the circumstances. He told me that I couldn’t ask you to run forever.”
Papa, I think, my heart twisting painfully. I love that you care so much for me. And I hate that you’re still trying to control this.
“He shouldn’t have—”
“He was right,” Alexei cuts me off. “When I was first planning that wedding, the only future I could see was one where you and I would have to disappear. Lars—” His voice falters for a moment, then continues with renewed determination.
“Lars knew that. He confronted me. I denied it, and he pretended to believe it, but I don’t think he ever really did. He—knows me. Too well.”
Knows. Not knew. It’s a small distinction, but lately it’s one that Benny and I, in particular, treasure.
“I told him then that I would never disappear without telling him, because if I did, his voice would just live rent-free in my mind anyway. The irony is,” he says quietly, “that it was him who disappeared, not me. But I was right. I do hear him in my head.”
He gives a cough of laughter. “When I have a chance to hear fucking anything over all the unsolicited advice I’ve been given lately.”
That makes me laugh, despite everything.
“For an imaginary voice, he’s been pretty forthright in his opinions,” Alexei says dryly.
“Particularly when it comes to you. Or maybe it’s just that I finally understand what he was always trying to tell me.
Either way, I know that when he wakes up, I want you and me to both be there.
I don’t want a future where we’re running, Ofelia.
Where we’ve disappeared. I want to give us both a different life. ”
“That sounds nice,” I say softly, swiping at a stray tear on my cheek.
“I’m not done here yet,” he says. “And no matter what I do, our world will always be out there. But I think I can carve out a safe place in it for us, if you’re willing to face it with me.”
“Always,” I say quietly. “I told you this was always forever for me. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”
“I love you.” Alexei groans. “And you have no idea how much I miss you, angel.”
“Oh, I think I do.” I smile at myself in the mirror. “Especially since right now I’m in bed, wearing nothing but—”
“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. “If I picture you like that, there’s no chance I’ll be able to shoot straight when the time comes. Fuck.” He breaks off abruptly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yes, you should have.” I quell my internal fear and answer without hesitation. “It’s the world we live in.”
It’s no small effort to keep my emotions out of my voice. I can imagine, with far too much accuracy, the kind of bloodshed he’s about to face.
And I also know the last thing he needs right now is for me to bring it up.
“Go,” I say instead, forcing my voice to remain calm. “Do what you have to, Alexei. I love you. When you get back, I’ll be here, waiting.”
I laugh softly.
“But I’m going to warn you, a priest might be waiting, too. Now that I know you actually want this, I don’t plan to let you wiggle out of it.”
“You’re smiling.” Darya gives me a quizzical look as I join her on the terrace.
“And you’re up early.” I take a seat and pour coffee from the French press on the table. The sun is new on the horizon. The morning is just cool enough to require a shawl over my sundress, and the sea is pale and still. Dew clings to the bougainvillea, and the air is rich with citrus.
It smells like hope.
“Your father woke me up. He just called.” Darya tucks her knees up to her chest. “He didn’t say it in so many words, but I’m fairly certain that whatever they have planned is being put into action some time today.” She frowns. “Or should that be tonight? I lose track of the time difference.”
“It’s just after midnight there now, so I imagine that means we won’t know how it went until this time tomorrow.”