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“I only danced with her to thank her for helping Patricia.”Lie, lie, lie.“I haven’t seen her in person since, or even spoken to her on the phone, so calm down please.”
Knowing Elise, calming down is the last thing she wants to do, but it’s a school day for her too, and neither of us can afford to have a huge fight. “Fine. But I’m still pissed about this, and poor Tatiana is heartbroken.”
“Stop lying, Elise. Tatiana is just a friend, and she knows that,” I insist, fighting the urge to grind my teeth. The idea that Tatiana and I are getting together is so played out by my sister that it makes me cringe every time she mentions it.
“Whatever. We’ll see. I better not hear about you being around Roxanne anymore. You’ve caused us enough worry through your breakup.”
Elise hangs up without another word. I hold the phone away from my face but notice there is an unread message from Roxanne. To my surprise, it isn’t more apologies or talk about the tabloid. Instead, her message reads,We should talk. Are you free tonight?
I must read it eight or so times before Dan clears his throat. I turn to him, and he asks, “What is so interesting?”
I’m tired of lying about Roxanne, and Dan is maybe the only person I can be honest with regarding her. I decide to come out with it and tell him the truth. “Roxanne wants to meet up. I literally just told Elise I wasn’t seeing her anymore, and it feels wrong to go against my word immediately like that.”
“Elise is only worried about Elise, and Elise’s public image. If you want to see her, then go.”
Despite Dan’s advice, I almost tell her no. I want her in my life, yes, but I just don’t know how she’s supposed to fit. Being together as a couple will be impossible without putting my entire family against me… But then I think about my uncle Alex, and his insistence that I should give Roxanne another chance, and how he and Aunt Petra had to try multiple times before their marriage actually succeeded. Alex had insisted he had alwaysknown Petra was the one, he just had to open up and let her in. Maybe… maybe that’s what I need to do with Roxanne.
Yes, what do you have in mind?I answer finally, still unsure whether I’m doing the right thing or not.
A few seconds later, my phone beeps with her answer:
Meeting up at my place like we were supposed to Saturday night. I’ll send you my address.
23
Amsterdam, February 28, 2022
Roxanne
He had class.He is still coming, he’s not avoiding you.
I repeat the mantra in my head again and again as I wait on Andries, twisting the fabric of my kimono shrug between my fingers as I pace. I worked for a few hours before coming home to prepare something for us to eat and make the penthouse more welcoming, but even that hadn't kept me occupied enough to not think about him constantly.
Andries had accepted my invitation this morning, and that was the last thing I’d heard from him. Now I feel stupid for not asking what time he would come over. I had wanted to seem like I was playing it cool and casual, but right now I feel anything but.
At the party, we had sex. I’ve had to come to terms with that fact over and over again yesterday. I hadn’t meant for things to go like that. In fact, I had hoped we could talk about our possible future together, as friends or otherwise, but Andries had been hard from the moment he tugged me onto the dance floor. Feeling that visceral reminder of what I did to him, and howmuch he wanted me, made all rational thought flee my mind. Then he kissed me, and there was very little intelligent thinking between the two of us from that moment on.
It had been so long that I had started to question whether the physical attraction between Andries and I had just been the rosy tint of my memory and not reality, but when I came apart in his arms just a two nights ago, it had cemented what I had been trying to deny for weeks: sex with Andries is unlike anything I had experienced in my whole life. We are a perfect, flawless match in bed. Now, if we could just figure out how to coexist happily at all other times, we might have a chance.
It’s almost six p.m. when I hear the doorbell buzzing. My heart leaps, and I all but run to the front door to let him in. When I open the door to his tall figure, I swear I run through an enormous array of emotions in a single second: love, relief, excitement, trepidation, and lust. I’ve never had any men come here, let alone an open invitation to stay however long they wanted.
He smiles at me, the expression slightly uncomfortable. “Shall I come in?”
“Sorry, of course,” I step aside, and he walks slowly past me, taking in the space. “It’s just such a shock to see you here. I hardly letanyonein my apartment. It’s my sanctuary.”
He pauses in the middle of the hallway, looking at me, a bit confused. “Do you want me to leave? We could get a hotel room or something.”
“No, no,” I say quickly, then I shut the door behind us and go back and take his hand on mine. “I want you here. I swear.”
Andries relaxes and I decide to give him a full tour of my place. It really is my sanctuary; that description is not an exaggeration. Showing him the living room, his eyes go up to where the ceilings curve upwards at an angle, the crystalline light fixtures hanging down on long chains. The front part of thepenthouse’s walls are painted in light pastels, large bookshelves full of the pieces of literature I have loved over the years stand in front. Decorations consist of soft watercolors in pale gold frames, and the centerpiece of the sitting area is an oversized cream-colored velour couch. I lead Andries to the back where my bedroom is, and the difference is stark. Here the walls are a dark turquoise, and there are diaphanous jewel-toned curtains covering the windows instead of proper shades. My king-sized bed is piled high with several pillows, a dark purple velvet blanket spread neatly underneath them.
The master bath follows the vintage theme, with my oversized soaking tub resting on four clawed feet and a ring of lights around two identical round mirrors hanging over decoratively tarnished brass sinks. A lot of the windows are wide, single paned, older-styled windows that always reminded me of the posh apartments seen in black and white films. It’s a mix of ultra-modern paired with vintage pieces, but it’s undoubtedly welcoming and cozy at the same time. I had worked hard to make it so, and it gives me a rush of pleasure to see how much Andries appreciates it.
“You are stamped all over every inch of this place,” he comments with a chuckle. “If I’d have known you lived somewhere like this, I’d have moved in with you instead of the other way around.”
“It’s not too late,” I say slowly, and Andries smirks.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Roxie.”
