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“The truth about what?”
“Why have you been avoiding me, Alma?”
I didn’t expect him to be so direct. For him to say my first name. For him to look me straight in the eyes, without blinking.
I’m trembling from head to toe. It feels like an ultimatum, and I try to form a sentence, to force out a few words, but nothing comes. I’m afraid of saying too much, of not saying enough. Lying to him is impossible; he knows me too well. Talking to him about my feelings, buried deep down for so long, and admitting to him that I haven’t forgotten anything, asking him for a second chance—I’m incapable of doing any of that. Terrified of what his answer might be. Mortified at the thought of him rejecting me.
While Vadim studies me, his expression is tense, but there’s no hostility in it. Despite the stern exterior he likes to project, I recognize in him the kindness that moved me so deeply back then.
I don’t say a word though. I simply pray in silence for something to happen and put an end to this encounter as quickly as possible. I’m not asking for much. A phone ringing would do the trick. The screeching of the fire alarm. Joseph Wilson barging in to talk to me about anything but work.
My wish is not granted.
Several painful seconds tick by. Vadim stands there, arms crossed, patiently waiting for me to speak. Then, his gray eyes start scanning the room. He knows he won’t get what he came for.
“Really nice office, Madam Deputy Director,” he says softly.
His way of saving me from this uncomfortable situation.
“Oh, I’ve seen better, but I’ll try to make do with it.” I give him a faint smile.
“Never satisfied. That hasn’t changed.” He smiles back at me.
“Always confrontational—that hasn’t changed either,” I murmur.
He runs a hand through his hair, betraying his nerves. “What if we stopped playing this little game for a second, Alma? If we actually told each other the truth, for once?”
His voice has changed. It’s hoarser, sharper. His gaze has darkened, his features hardened. His last sentence was full of reproach.
Faced with this unexpectedly direct question, my stupid ego takes over again. I don’t want to be the first to open up.
“I’m listening…”
“You didn’t seem thrilled to meet Grace.”
“I wasn’t prepared.”
“To meet the woman who shares my life?”
“To meet an internationally renowned actress.”
“That’s your job, Alma. Don’t try and tell me you lose your composure every time you run into a star.”
“That’s just how I am. I don’t like being blindsided. I prefer to keep my guard up when I’m… uncomfortable.”
“That’s not what you did when you met me, though. You went straight on the offensive, even though I’m pretty sure I scared you.”
“That was twelve years ago. It was different. And you and me… that was… special.”
“So special that you threw it all away to please Mommy and Daddy?”
He lets out a short, harsh, fake-sounding laugh that hurts me.
“Alright, what else?” I say.
I put up my guard, acting cool and aloof, so he won’t see how much his words affect me.
“Excuse me?”
