Amour Amour (44 page)

He had taught me all the tricks, with him as my partner, so it took one training session to put it all together, seamlessly.

“Don’t trip when you walk over to me,” he warns.

I gape. “I’m not going to trip.” We’re practicing in wardrobe for the first time, his red slacks on while he breathes heavily, hands on his waist and silk rigged above him. His bandana is tied around his forehead like usual, pieces of damp hair hanging along the fabric—not part of his costume. So technically he’s cheating.

I pointed this out and he gave me a look like
and what are you going to do about it?

It was a look that deserved a great response, but I was too tongue-tied and open-mouthed to say anything. I shrugged and walked away, feeling his grin on my back.

Now I’m about twenty feet from him, more in the middle of the gym, wearing a white draping costume. With so many thin, wispy pieces of fabric that it skims my legs and the floor. It’s a hazard, I realize too. But it’s not supposed to stay on my body for long.

His lips curve upward. “Then come to me,” he says, huskily.

My heart bursts.

Just standing here.

Just seeing him.

Knowing that this is going to turn into a bigger reality next week. I almost can’t accept it fully. I hesitate to bask in the joy and accomplishment. After so much disappointment, I guess I expect more to hit me soon, another stipulation, another setback.

I’m not the fool-hearted, idealistic girl anymore. I’ve been shaken enough to be wary. And it’s a mark that’ll stay with me. For better or for worse.

I inhale a deep, motivational breath.

And I sprint towards him, as fast as my feet will go. In a split-second, the fabric tangles with my foot.
You’re going down.
I realize that too.

I thud to the mat like a sack of flour, catching myself on my elbows. I mean, it’s not the most terrible place to land. My face would’ve been worse.

I hear clapping. Not from Nikolai. Turning my head, the Kotovas on the metal cube apparatus give me applause and whistles for my fall.

“Looking good, Thora James!” Timo calls, sitting on the highest rung like he’s just chilling.

A smile stretches my face, and I pick myself up and kneel. Nikolai walks over with lightness sweeping his strong, masculine features.

For the first time, I’m not the outsider looking in. I’m a part of this grand, magical thing called the circus. Where every person on stage is family.

“What were you saying about not tripping?” he asks, a few feet away.

I open my mouth to reply, but someone in my peripheral catches my attention. Shay adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder. It’s not a gym bag but his luggage.
He’s leaving.
I quickly stand as he approaches.

“I came to say goodbye.” His eyes cautiously flicker to Nikolai behind me. A lot of us went to Club Zero a couple days ago for happy hour, including Nikolai and Shay, and the uncomfortable tension between them never dissolved. It is what it is, I guess. I can’t make two people like each other.

Nikolai’s hand brushes my hip before he gives us space, returning to the red silk.

“When’s your flight?” I ask.

“At four,” he tells me. “They’re sending all of us to Montreal for training first, and then they’ll start staging the show.”

It sounds like the start of an adventure. I smile, recognizing that I’ve been on one for a long while. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s something new.”

“No more same-old-same-old.”

He laughs and stares up at the ceiling, as though a higher power changed his life path. Maybe fate, luck—or him. His choice. He took the risk. That’s all Shay.

I hug him, standing on my toes to wrap my arms fully around his shoulders.

He hugs me tighter with one arm. And he whispers, “Be happy, okay?”

My heart clenches, and I look up.

“I know you’ll be safe.” He nods, accepting this. “So be happy for me.”

I smile. “I already am.”

He kisses my cheek, and we let each other go. I watch him head out the exit where he came from. I know we’ll see each other again. Sometime. In the faraway future.

This is the bittersweet portion of my life, but I’m happy. For each of us choosing the better life, even if it was a harder road to take.

Nikolai squeezes my shoulders. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know,” I say, spinning around to face him. “Which part were we at?”

“The part where I take your clothes off.” He’s being serious, and he’s also right. My pulse races as his eyes tear through me.

I think he’s already mentally ripped part of my costume off.

A girl shrieks. Our head whips towards the trapeze, the group of artists excitedly jump up and down with a magazine in their hand. I squint at the title from afar.
Celebrity Crush
, a tabloid.

“Who’s pregnant?!” Timo calls.

The girl gleefully bounces. “They’re coming here!”

“What?” I say aloud.

Every girl speaks at once and I barely uncover the names in their enthusiasm:
Ryke Meadows
and
Daisy Calloway.
The reality stars of
Princesses of Philly
. A famous family. Famous couple. They’re seeing Amour next week.

My nerves shoot up. “Dear God…” I whisper aloud, on accident.

“What happened to them being in Costa Rica?!” Timo shouts, interested in the family like his little sister.

“They’re on route there afterwards,” is the reply from about three girls.

I fixate on the simple fact that famous people will be watching the premiere of the show. Add in my parents and the directors of Amour—the pressure keeps mounting.

Nikolai’s thumb skims my neck. “You can’t distinguish faces in the audience,” he reminds me. “You’ll be fine.”

The Calloways are infamous. This show will be all over the news…in a good way. Amour needs the publicity, but what if the magazines are littered with bad reviews? “This is worse than having the cast of
The Vampire Diaries
here,” I realize.

“They were here last week,” Nikolai tells me.

I gape. “What?” I missed them? What was I doing?
God, what if you were washing your hair. How lame.
I look up and Nikolai is close to laughing.

“Joking,” he says. “I don’t even know what
The Vampire Diaries
is.”

I scowl. “It’s a show, a
great
show.”

With a more charming smile, he pulls me closer. My arms swoop around his waist, the heat of his skin warming me.

“When you’re on stage, stay in the moment,” he says, more encouraging. “Nothing else matters.”

Loud, coarse Russian infiltrates our conversation, the voice familiar by now. Dimitri stands close with a water bottle in hand, passing our apparatus to reach the teeterboard. He speaks straight to Nikolai, but he’s gesturing to me.

After hanging around the Kotovas nearly every single day, I can pick apart certain words. “What’s not a good idea?” I ask Dimitri.

He glances over his shoulder, as though to make sure no one listens in, and then he nears us. My eyes widen as I crane my neck to look up between them, inadvertently being sandwiched between two of the tallest Russian men here.

“Tell Thora,” Dimitri says.

Nikolai marbleizes. “We promised her that we wouldn’t tell anyone.” For some reason, I know that the “her” is not referring to me.

Dimitri rests a hand on my head and speaks in Russian. Um…

Nikolai smacks his hand away and replies, “It’s not the same.”

“No one wants the show to suffer again because of a break up.”
Suffer again.
He’s referring to Nikolai’s last partner. His last girlfriend. Tatyana. His
it’s complicated.
I’m beginning to think Dimitri is afraid of history repeating itself.

I didn’t even think of that. “We won’t…” I can’t finish the words. Both guys are
glaring
at each other, seemingly speaking through their eyes.

And Dimitri is the first to crack. “Go ahead and tell her what happened with Tatyana.”

Nikolai’s jaw muscles clench. “I wish she hadn’t told you anything.”

“We’re friends. The way we’re friends.” He motions to his chest to Nikolai’s, back and forth.

“Bullshit,” Nikolai says. “You loved her. She didn’t love you.”

He snorts. “What are you talking about love? I just wanted to fuck her.”

I cringe at the crudeness of Dimitri Kotova. I will never become used to it. Maybe that’s a good thing. “Nikolai,” I cut in while he throws daggers into Dimitri. “What’s going on?”

He won’t meet my gaze. He’s still fixated on his friend. “I broke up with Tatyana a couple months before her injury.”

He’s telling you the whole story, Thora.

I inhale strongly, waiting for him to release the truth.

Nikolai continues, “I just didn’t love her the way that she loved me, and it wasn’t fair to her—to be in a one-sided relationship. She deserved more than me.”

Dimitri points at himself.

Nikolai retorts, “Definitely not you.”

Dimitri extends his arms. “I’m a great motherfucking catch. Right, Thora?” He winks at me.

My insides curdle. “Uh…”

Dimitri cocks his head. “You’ll come around.”

Not in that way.
I hear the humor in his voice, the joke that I might’ve not been able to pick up on first meeting. I hone in on Nikolai’s proclamation:
I just didn’t love her the way that she loved me.
My face tightens as I wonder: how do I know that our love is equal?

How does anyone know?

Nikolai sweeps my features. “The thought of Tatyana ever leaving—it made me feel free. That’s when I knew.”

I recall all the moments he thought I’d leave Vegas. I saw despair.

“With you,” he says, “it’s the inverse.” 

“Get to the important part,” Dimitri interjects, waving him on.

Nikolai rubs his eyes and shakes his head at his cousin. “You think it’s easy for me to say this?”
It’s complicated.

“It’s okay…” I tell him. “Whatever it is…” I have no idea what it could be. Not even a little hint or suspicion.

“I can rip it off,” Dimitri declares, about to explain the rest.

“No.” Nikolai stares past me, past his cousin, as though bringing the memory to the front of his mind. “No, I can tell her.” He looks haunted, tormented by this moment in his life. One he’s buried. “I broke up with Tatyana, but we were still in Amour together. And…you know the routine. It’s intense.”

I nod, trying not to picture them together on the aerial silk act. Each trick is strung with emotions
.
With lust in touching, in kissing, in flying

It’s something that would be complicated with an ex-boyfriend.

“I could act my way through it,” he continues. “And every night, I knew it tore her down, believing that I loved her when I didn’t…I’d come off the stage and I was cold. I didn’t want to confuse her, but I kept hurting her…and there’s nothing I could do. It was the worst two months I’ve ever experienced.”

Dimitri is quiet and more respectful than I thought he’d be. Maybe those months were hard for him too, if he was close to Tatyana.

I can’t even imagine what it must be like—to not love someone when they love you. To love someone when they don’t love you. To have to hurt each other, with no way to end it… “Wait,” I whisper, my eyes growing again, the gears clicking.

“She couldn’t get out of her contract.” Nikolai lowers his voice so no one else can hear but the three of us.

My mouth falls.
No.

“Her injury wasn’t an accident. She wanted an out, and at practice for the Russian swing, without telling anyone, she added an extra rotation in a triple sault. And she knew that she didn’t have enough room to land it.” He pauses, his eyes reddening. “Tatyana made it seem like an accident. Not very many people knew we weren’t doing well. We were always professional in the gym, but…I knew her. I knew that I had emotionally pushed her to that place.”

It’s complicated.
It seems like an understatement now. This is…there are no words. I reach out and hold his hand, a small gesture, not knowing what else to do.

I ask softly, “Did she…admit to it?”

“To me,” he nods. “I confronted her about it in the hospital.”

“And to me,” Dimitri adds.

That’s it. She told two people the truth, and I guess she made them promise to keep it a secret. “Do I even want to know her injury?”

Nikolai shakes his head at the same time Dimitri says, “She broke her tibia and fibula, right leg.”

I cringe into a worse wince. “God…”

Nikolai shoots Dimitri a glare. “Thanks.”

“She might as well know everything,” he says, “because if this happens again—”

“It won’t,” I cut him off. “It won’t.” I can’t imagine reaching a place that low, and if I did—I don’t think I’d be able to hurt myself like that. I just—I can’t…even fathom it. I feel so horrible for her, if she felt like this was the only avenue to end her pain.

Dimitri nods. “We’re on the same page then.” He pats my head and then he swigs his water, heading to the teeterboard.

Nikolai is staring at the mats, at my feet. It’s a rare sight, one that pulls at my heart.

“Hey,” I whisper. “It’s okay…”

He lifts his gaze. “I used to wonder, every day, if I made the right decision to break up with her. I could’ve saved her the pain, but why cage her in a lie? I didn’t want Tatyana to waste her love on me.”

He wanted her to be free too.

“You’re a good person, Nikolai.”

“You’re a better person than me,” he refutes. “I’ve just lived longer.”

“And made more right choices?”

“No,” he says, staring through me. “Just choices. Right or wrong, I don’t know.”

I nod and step forward, until I’m close enough to hug him around the waist. His hand finds the back of my neck, both of us still in costume. Still needing to practice the rest of the routine.

And he murmurs, “Where did we leave off?”

“At the beginning.”

The beginning, all over again.

Act Forty-Eight