Chapter 15 - Emmanuil
Anya was sitting by the pool chatting to Kira; she’d been happy and relaxed all day, laughing and playing in the pool and having an amazing time. I’d been watching her, and it makes me happy to see her like this.
It’s a relief from all the tension we’ve had since we reunited.
And she looks so cute in that coral colored bikini. I haven’t been able to stop admiring her beauty, despite knowing better.
We even played a few rounds of games in the water, her sitting on my shoulders, wrestling Belle off Ardalion’s shoulders. It was such a laugh.
I could almost ignore the fact that having her body so close to mine was driving me crazy all over again, just for the sake of enjoying the day.
My family all adores her, and she gets along with everyone here. She’s been socializing, and watching her, I can see she really needed this.
But while I was joking around with Katya, I noticed from the corner of my eye how Anya’s mood shifted. She kept glancing at me with a tight, sad smile on her face. I don’t know where her thoughts were wandering, but she lost her spark.
Kira jumped up from her pool chair, declaring that she’s getting them more drinks, and wandered off, leaving Anya alone on the loungers.
She immediately got even more distressed and started to fidget.
Her thoughts were clearly overwhelming her.
And she kept glancing at me as though I was the reason for her distress.
I kept telling myself to ignore it. To let her be alone with her thoughts and whatever was bothering her, but when she got up to leave, I knew it wasn’t just something silly. She was genuinely upset.
And I couldn’t resist following her to make sure she was okay.
I went to the kitchen, then the bathroom, and eventually found Anya in the guest room, standing at the window, a tissue in her hand and her eyes shining with tears.
I watched her for a moment, my eyes tracing over her body, turned to the side, the kimono hanging softly over her hips, the sheer fabric teasing my imagination, and the sight of her in that tiny bikini.
My body stirred, knowing I was being a voyeur, and the idea was turning me on.
I guess no matter what she’s doing, she will always be beautiful to me. And my body will always respond to her.
But I was here to comfort her. I still want to know why she ran away so quickly yesterday and why she’s hardly said two words to me since then.
Now, she scrunches her nose, looking cute as all hell.
She does this when she’s trying to hide her emotions because she has a terrible poker face.
She smiles, but it’s a terrible smile as she fights against the tears threatening to spill. It’s a crooked smile, fake and slipping. She’s miserable, and it’s impossible to hide it from me.
But for some reason, she doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on.
She shoots a quick glance towards me, and tears are streaming down her cheeks. She couldn’t hold them back.
It breaks my heart, and I grab her into a hug and hold her tight against my chest, my hand resting on the back of her head as I do my best to comfort her.
I wait for a while, until her shoulders stop shaking and she seems to no longer be crying. Then I try again.
“Anya, I want you to talk to me. It’s better than hiding whatever’s going on. There’s no point in denying that something is bothering you,” I say gently, pulling her away from me so that I can look at her face.
Her cheeks are splotchy and pink.
She pulls her mouth to the side and nods.
Anya steps back and takes a deep breath. I let my arms drop away from her, understanding that she needs to work through whatever she wants to say so that she can say it clearly.
When she speaks, when she tells me her reason for being upset, it stuns me into silence.
“I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did between us,” she says. “I’m so sorry for how it all turned out, and if I could go back and make it different, I would.” Her eyes are tight on my face as she tries to read my emotions.
I say nothing, my face gives nothing away, despite my heart beating a million miles an hour.
Anya swallows hard and blinks rapidly before she starts talking again.
“I mean, I understand, no one can change the past. I understand you still—you—how you feel about me now, and that I deserve it. I’m just saying that I’m truly sorry, Em.
I never wanted to hurt you. I was really young, and I didn’t know how to handle the situation.
” She sighs softly and looks down at her hands, at the crumpled tissue.
A small white ball, damp and salted with her tears.
When I find my voice, even though I have a thousand questions in my mind, all I manage to ask is, “You would have chosen a different future for us?” My heart is beating wildly at the idea of her feeling bad for what she did. At her showing remorse.
She nods. “I would have. I’ve thought about it often.”
My eyes are locked onto her face. I wish I weren’t so afraid of believing her.
But the way she speaks, her body language, the deep anguish in her beautiful eyes—her sincerity is raw and real.
She isn’t asking me for anything. She isn’t making demands or wanting something from me. She didn’t even want to talk about what was bothering her. But this is what it is. She was feeling bad. Guilty, ashamed, regretful.
She doesn’t want anything from me other than for me to hear her apology.
In the end, she’s just saying sorry.
A very heartfelt, genuine apology for what she did.
The battle between my head and my heart slips over in favor of my heart.
“Thank you,” I mutter quietly, my body processing the strange sense of relief she’s given me.
“You don’t have to thank me, Em. I really mean it. I should have said it years ago,” she sighs.
“Well, I’m grateful to hear it now,” I smile.
She nods and tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to go back to the party?” she asks. “I just need to wash my face.”
“Sure, I’ll wait for you.”
She heads into the guest bathroom, and I hear the tap running. Standing alone in the bedroom, I stare at the open doorway. I feel good. Warm and comforted in ways I didn’t expect. But at the same time, deep inside me, there is a warning.
You can’t erase the past. Saying sorry doesn’t take away what I went through. Her sincerity now doesn’t change what happened.
She steps back into the room, and my eyes roam over her, her beautiful face, and her elegant, willowy body. I used to know her inside and out. I used to know her heart.
Maybe, I still do. Maybe not.
But just for the moment, because she wore her heart on her sleeve like that, I can take a step, too. I can play my part in making things easier between us.
“Anya, how about a truce?” I say, a crooked smile on my face.
“What kind of a truce?” She knits her brows and presses her lips together, her eyes filled with curiosity.
“One where we stop bickering and let go of the tension between us? And maybe we give each other the benefit of the doubt?” I shrug.
“That sounds really nice.” Her voice is flooded with relief. Her smile widens, shining all the way to her eyes, glittering in them.
“Good. Let’s do it then. We’ll have champagne to celebrate.” I hold my arm out and she steps to my side, letting me wrap my hand around her waist as we walk back into the party.
“You know what happens when I have too much champagne.” She grins with a cheeky smile as she glances at me.
“Mm. I do. I’m not exactly complaining,” I muse.
“Where have you two been, and why do you both look guilty?” Kira shouts from the pool as we step onto the patio.
“Oh, shush, you little troublemaker,” I shout back, laughing.
She winks at me and lifts her hand to splash water in our direction.
“I really like your family, Em. You’re very lucky to be surrounded by so many good people,” Anya says, smiling as she looks around the garden at the small groups of people laughing and enjoying the sunshine.
“I know I am.” I smile too. But in my heart, I know I want more than this. Family is incredible, and I adore every single one of them.
But I want love like I once had with her.
Love that I’m not even sure was real or not.
***
The rest of the party is relaxed and fun. Anya stays at my side, and there is a definitely shift in the energy between us. By the time we leave and head back to the airport to fly home, Anya is exhausted.
In the plane, she falls asleep, her head resting against my shoulder.
I shift my position and wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer.
Her skin is sun-kissed, glowing from a day by the pool. Her expression is peaceful.
While she’s sleeping, I watch her, wondering what she meant when she said that if she could go back, she would change things. What would she change?
What would she want for us?
Sighing softly, I close my eyes and lean my head back against the chair. There’s no point dwelling on it. Accept her apology for what it was and understand that it can’t be anything more than that.
But she does feel incredible in my arms, her warmth soaking into my body, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest soothing my thoughts.
For now, this is peaceful, and I’ll enjoy the moment.