Firebird (The Firebird Trilogy #1) (16 page)

She sneezed, blew her nose, and then got up to throw the tissue away, embarrassed she wasn’t reacting the way a normal person ought to. No tears. No impulse to cry at all. Nothing. She might feel a moment of sorrow when he died, shallower than the sadness one felt for a celebrity’s passing and as quickly forgotten. Grief for what could have been, if he’d cared enough to seek help, and relief the reality was dead and buried so she could move on with her life.

“Steph, you don’t owe him anything. He’s never once apologized or taken responsibility for anything he did.”

She shook her head. She would not let their father ruin another otherwise happy occasion. “Sorry I’m sick, by the way.”

“’Tis the season. How’s work?”

“I got a promotion last month.” She plucked an extra copy of
King County Today
from Alex’s bookshelf. “Here’s the issue that got me there. You can keep it.”

“And look who’s on the cover.” Matt beamed at her. “You guys couldn’t stay away from each other, huh?”

“Obviously not.” She stuck her tongue out.

“So what’s the deal with you two? Is it serious, or…?”

“I hope so. As it turns out, I never really got over him.”

“I knew you didn’t. I’ve never seen you the way you are with him.”

“It’s different now, though.
He’s
different. I mean, of course he is. We’re older, and he’s one of the greatest athletes in the world. It’s just…strange.” She laughed a little, a hoarse chuckle that incited a coughing fit. “But amazing.”

“Some things are meant to be. So you told him everything?”

“Yeah. He was upset at first, of course. He really wants kids, as surprising as that is. It was hard on him.”

“But you don’t want them?”

“I didn’t. But with Alex…I don’t know.” She slumped onto the couch again, her head and every muscle aching. “It’s way too soon, and—ˮ

Alex walked in carrying two grocery bags.

“Well, this is new,” Stephanie said.

“What? I know how to shop for groceries. I choose not to.” He tucked the items into the refrigerator. “Matt, you up for that drink?”

“Sure am.”

He fixed two Highballs and, after handing one to Matt, sat beside Stephanie on the couch. She snuggled him and dragged the blanket over her legs.

“Stephanie said you’re teaching overseas?”

“Yeah, ESL in Japan. Might try Korea next. How’s the new team?”

“It’s difficult. We’re not playing well. I’ve been through a rebuild—it was why Buffalo drafted me, but this is an expansion team. There’s nothing to rebuild because it was never built in the first place. And, you know, just being in a new city. I finally stopped missing Saint Petersburg, and now I miss Buffalo.” He curled his arm around her. “But Seattle got a whole lot better.”

“You guys are sickeningly cute, as always.”

Alex kissed the top of her head. “So what about you? Anyone special?”

“Honey,” Stephanie said, “I’m not sure Matt wants to—ˮ

“No, it’s fine. Just because Dad freaked out doesn’t mean everyone else will.”

Alex was silent for a moment, until the lightbulb went off. “
Oh.
You’re…”

“Gay. Yeah. Our father didn’t take it well. Not that he takes anything well. I’m only going because he’s dying. Couldn’t even bring my partner.”

“He’s dying?”

Alex sounded gleeful. Stephanie jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

“Ow! I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“You don’t have to lie, Alex. Despite what my little sister may tell you.”

She stuck her tongue out again.

“He was as shitty to you as he was to everyone else. And I’d rather it be me dealing with him one last time than Stephanie, anyway. She suffered enough.”

“I wanted to fucking kill that guy.”

“Alex.”

“Let him say it, Steph. It’s what we all thought at one time or another.”

He was right; she’d imagined killing him, had formulated a plan one night when it had gotten bad enough. She’d never told Alex or confronted the suspicion her father’s violence had infected her, had perhaps genetically predisposed her to it. That when he did die, the worst parts of him might live on in her. The vilest sort of immortality and one of the reasons, after the miscarriage, she had all but abandoned the idea of having children. She would not perpetuate his affliction. Alex, wanting children so badly, would find someone willing to give him that. Sometimes, love alone was not enough.

Her congestion masked the tears, and neither Matt nor Alex seemed to suspect she was doing anything more than wiping eyes watery from clogged sinuses.

“Men hit women all the time in Russia. There’s an old proverb:
‘If he beats you, he loves you.’
Women blame themselves. It shouldn’t be like that. I mean, look at me. I could really hurt someone. Why would I want to see someone I love in pain? What I saw Stephanie go through…” He shook his head. “That isn’t love. I wish I could fix it.”

“Baby,” Stephanie whispered and burrowed even closer to him. He gave her another gentle kiss.

At dinnertime, Alex ordered pirozhki and borscht, with a box of cinnamon cookies for dessert, from the Russian bakery in the Market. They talked long into the night, until Stephanie dozed off on his shoulder.

“Come on, you. Time for medicine and bed.” Alex helped her off the couch and hooked an arm around her waist.

“Make sure I’m up before Matt leaves.”

“Of course.” He kissed her cheek. Matt rose from the armchair and followed them to the guest room. “Let me know if you need anything, Matt.”

“Good night.” Stephanie hugged him. “Thank you so much for being here.”

“Wouldn’t have passed it up for anything. Get some sleep, kiddo.” Matt tousled her hair.

Stephanie followed Alex down the hall and closed the bedroom door. He had started undressing, the simple act of taking off his sweater flaunting the beauty of his physique. “You are unbelievable.”

“That’s a good thing,
da
?”

“A very good thing.” She lay down, coughed, and pressed a tissue to her nose as Alex climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up. “What you did for me today…”

“I love seeing you so happy.” He kissed her forehead.

She spooned with him, nesting like a
matryoshka
doll. “I love you. Do you believe that?”

“Of course I do. What kind of a question is that?”

“The stuff about my father brought up some things.”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“There are certain things I know you want, and I wonder if I’m able to give them to you.”

He kissed her shoulder. “Get that
zhopa
out of your head. I have you. That’s all I want.”

“Then for now, we don’t need to talk about it anymore.” She rolled over to lay her head on his chest, and he stroked her hair as his breathing slowed. His heartbeat pulsed against her cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

The curtains on the deck doors were open so she could look into the night, into the diamond-dusted sky, and wonder at each tiny miracle that had brought her there. Their apogee lay beside her with an arm around her waist and wisps of sleep-softened breath against her ear. There was no logic in how much she loved him, but much of its beauty lay in its illogicality. If love was known for anything, it was not for being rational.

With his gentle exhales singing her to sleep, she held their love as the precious thing it was and sent her silent thanks into that diamond sky it had been returned to her.

Chapter Fifteen

Alex was clutching a bouquet of red roses in front of his face. Stephanie broke into a grin as he lowered the flowers below his eyes and waggled his eyebrows. He was wearing a long-sleeved indigo polo shirt, relaxed-fit jeans, and gray suede Prada sneakers, the most casual outfit he’d ever worn on a date, which further piqued her curiosity. He hadn’t yet revealed their destination, only that she wear something comfortable, especially her shoes.

“Get in here.”

He held out the roses.

“They’re beautiful, Alex.”

Pressing her against the counter, he slipped his arms around her waist for a deep, unhurried kiss.

“Well hello,” she said when their mouths regrettably separated. She filled an empty crystal vase with water and tucked the stems into it.

“Hi there. Shall we?” He offered her his arm.

Somewhere between First Hill and Capitol Hill, Alex slowed the Mercedes to a crawl and scanned the street for a parking spot. Finding nothing, he drove a couple of blocks to the community college garage and pulled into the first available space. They walked hand-in-hand back the way they had come, through a cool Saturday evening drizzle, following other couples beneath a burgundy awning into a turn-of-the-century brick building.

“A ballroom?”

“One night I was out with this beautiful woman who said she didn’t dance. And I
really
want to dance with her.”

She squeezed his hand.

They stopped at the ballroom’s restaurant for a light dinner, then headed into the hall for an hour-long intro lesson. The DJ had set up onstage between heavy blue velvet curtains, while couples gathered on the shiny, sprung hardwood floor. As the room filled to near capacity, some of her self-consciousness bled away. Anyone there for the intro lesson probably was as clueless as she was.

They ran through the basic patterns of West Coast Swing: right-side and left-side passes, tuck turns, sugar pushes, and whips, all of which proved more complicated in her head than in practice, perhaps because of her partner’s talents. She tried to keep her gaze locked on Alex’s. Maintaining both a visual and physical connection at all times was, according to the instructor, one of West Coast Swing’s main tenets, but she found it drifting to his hips. Imagining what those hips would be doing later.

The lesson ended, and the DJ put on Ray Anthony’s “Let’s Dance.” Alex started with his left foot and Stephanie, on a downbeat, with her right. Step, step, right triple, left triple. Two steps forward on the first two beats, maneuvered to the other end of the slot and passing on Alex’s right. She stepped three times at the end, an anchor step. They started the process again, Alex leading her into a sugar push this time. With both hands holding hers, he guided her in three steps toward him, then three back, anchor step and forward again, and pecked her lips when they were face to face.

“See? You
can
dance.”

“It’s a lot easier than I expected. Also, have I mentioned you keep getting sexier?”

He grinned.

Back to the four-beat starter step. He led her past him, then whipped her toward the end of the slot from which she had begun.
Step step tri-ple-step, step step tri-ple-step.

“Having fun?”

“How could I not?”

Another sugar push, then into a tuck turn, where she performed a graceful little twirl from which she and those around her emerged unscathed. Alex beamed at her.

They danced for two hours. Thirty minutes before the ballroom closed, they cut out to beat the crowd and walked to the park across the street. It had been the site of multiple muggings at both knifepoint and gunpoint during the summer, and though police had augmented foot patrols, it saddened her to think that without her six-foot-five boyfriend at her side, she’d have been an easy target in a neighborhood once beloved as a subversive safe haven for the nonconformist. Its disastrous gentrification had forced out its artists and gay community, opening the floodgates for clubs, restaurants, and condos catering to the influx of young, straight tech workers, of dudebros and the woo girls who trailed them like loud, shiny shadows. With them, the inevitable increase in crime, particularly of the homophobic and misogynist varieties. She’d once brought Matt to the last of the gay bars there. She would not bring him back.

The drizzle had lightened into little more than a mist. They walked the promenade around the reflecting pool, hands locked and the soft hiss of rain upon water filling the pregnant silence. She wished she could show those two weeping children sitting on his host mother’s steps that it would be all right, that they had arrived in the future together.

“I have something for you.” Alex fished a black velvet ring box from his front pocket.

One hand flew to her mouth, and she swore her heart stopped beating. “Oh my God,” she gasped.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh—no, no. Don’t freak out. It’s not…Did you want it to be?
Der′mo.
” He rubbed the back of his neck and cast his gaze toward the pool. “I thought it was too soon—”

“No! I mean…it is.” They barely knew each other as adults, despite two and a half months of spending Alex’s limited time off together.
Her irrational disappointment remained, though she’d known going in he wasn’t the marrying type. And despite what he’d claimed he would have done, everything was easier in hindsight, when no longer faced with making such a monumental decision.

Stephanie’s cheeks flamed.

“Um, it’s like a promise. Like you gave me.” Alex opened the box. It held a ring of white-gold twists cradling a princess-cut diamond, with round diamonds flowing on either side of it. A promise ring in name, if he needed it to be. Not the blemished, battered silver band he’d once sported, what a seventeen-year-old girl had been able to afford on her meager allowance. Not what she had given him at all.

“It’s beautiful, Alex.”

“I wasn’t sure…I know you don’t like really girly things, but I thought this one was nice.” With a sweet smile, he slid it onto her right ring finger instead of the left, reinforcing its intent. “I was going to wait until Christmas, but I have another surprise for you then.”

Of course he did. “You know you don’t have to keep buying me things, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. But you deserve nice things. And I can afford them.” He scooped her into his arms, dipped her, and planted his lips on hers. “We’d better go. Don’t want to miss curfew.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep you up tonight.”

His eyes twinkled, an exceptional understudy for the hidden stars. “I’ve never been so eager to get home.”

***

Aleksandr

Stephanie was still asleep. Alex kissed her cheek, then eased out of bed, wriggled into red flannel lounge pants, and plunked a Santa hat he’d picked up at Walgreens onto his head. The Earthquakes had played a four-game road trip, the second trip in as many weeks, and arrived home for their three-day Christmas break thirty-six hours ago. He and Stephanie had spent as many of those hours as possible making love, which was the sole reason he let her keep sleeping now.

He turned on the fireplace and crept into the kitchen to start the teakettle. A small tree glittered by the windows. He knelt beside it and shook the wrapped present bearing his name.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

He set the box down. Stephanie, hands on her hips and clad in one of his shirts, stood in the hallway. She smiled and shut off the heat under the shrieking teakettle. “Nice hat.”

“Merry Christmas.” Alex darted beneath the sprig of mistletoe he’d hung over the kitchen entrance. “I believe you are required to kiss me now.”

Stephanie laughed. “Come here, sexy Santa.” She hooked her hands into his pants and traced his V-cut with her thumbs. “Have I been naughty or nice?”

“Mmm…trick question. You get presents for each. But I’m leaning toward naughty.”

“How naughty?” she said against his lips before kissing him. Her body softened against his, which was doing quite the opposite.

“I think you’re going to find out very soon.”

“Presents first.”

He followed her into the living room. They sat together on the floor warmed by the fireplace, and she handed him a small box wrapped in gold-and-silver paper. He tore it away and opened the box. Tucked within folds of tissue paper lay a black stainless-steel dress watch with gold accents on the band and around the dial.

“All those suits you have to wear, and you don’t have a nice watch to go with them.”

Alex scooped it up. He’d shopped for watches before, having intended to buy one for that reason, and this one cost nearly five hundred dollars. No way was it in Stephanie’s budget, not after all the cancellation fees she’d incurred calling off her wedding a couple months ago. He turned it over. She’d had it inscribed:
I will always make time for you.

“Aw. Thank you, Steph. This is perfect.”

“I wanted to do more.”

“Baby.” He kissed her gently. “You gave me everything I want. Ready for yours?”

She bounced a little and clapped her hands. “Yes.”

“First…” Alex offered her a shirt box wrapped in red paper. She opened it and picked up the ticket lying atop a Seattle Earthquakes jersey with his name patch and number sewn on the back. “For our next game. And your boyfriend’s jersey. I hear he’s a decent hockey player.”

Giggling, she unfolded the blue-and-gray mesh jersey and held it up. “Can’t wait to wear it.” She pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

“And now for the big surprise.” With both hands, Alex dragged a far larger box from under the tree and placed it on Stephanie’s lap.

“Holy crap, this is heavy. What’s in here?” She shredded the paper and pried the box flaps apart. Her face rumpled in confusion. “This is all the stuff from my car.” She pulled out a tiny box that did not belong, flicked off the lid, and extracted a car key. “What is this? Alex, what did you do?”

“Put on your shoes and find out?”

She jammed her feet into her flats. He put on brown suede slippers, then retrieved a shirt from the bedroom.

Next to his Mercedes sat a shiny gray BMW coupe, which he’d insisted the dealership wrap in one of those big red bows like in the commercials. Stephanie gawped at the key in her hand then at the car. Proud and self-sufficient, she would not accept the gift if she knew it cost ninety-four thousand dollars. He prayed she wouldn’t ask. Or research it online.

“I couldn’t let you keep driving that hundred-year-old Honda around. I cleaned your stuff out before they took it away.” One more memory of her father she didn’t need.

“Alex—”

“Between the Earthquakes and my endorsements, I make twelve and a half million a year. Let me give you this.”

Stephanie unlocked the driver’s side and slid onto the black Nappa leather seat. She gripped the wheel, then ran her hands over the dash, the touchpad navigation screen, the gray poplar trim.

“I got the sound system option with it. Sixteen speakers.”

“Let’s shower and get dressed. This car needs to go for a ride.”

“So you like it.”

Stephanie got out, locked it, and punched his shoulder. “Of course I like it. Let’s go! We have driving to do.”

***

They showered and made love, those two things a simultaneous occurrence more often than not, then drove all over Seattle in Stephanie’s new car. For dinner, they ate huge bowls of noodles at a Chinese restaurant in the International District. It was well after dark by the time they returned to the condo, Stephanie with a bag of mystery items after a pit stop at Safeway before it had closed at four. She retreated to the en suite, leaving Alex to sift through the mail she had collected for him. He carried it into the guest room, tossed it onto his desk and, putting his glasses on, logged into his email account.

Sasha,

Some endorsement deals to consider. Under Armour, Reebok, Gatorade all interested. Working on some local/regional sponsorships as well. Will help your image in Seattle. Current sponsors so far willing to stay onboard despite recent off-ice conduct. Just don’t push it.

Danny

He heard water running in the six-foot soaking tub and peeked into the bathroom. Stephanie had lined the windowsill and counter with votive candles in Christmas scents—gingerbread, spruce—and peaks of fluffy white foam rose from the water. He crept out without her noticing and poured two glasses of wine.

“So romantic.” He set the glasses on the sill so they could reach them from the tub and kissed her.

“Merry Christmas. Get naked.” She shut off the water.

Laughing, he kicked his clothes into the opposite corner and lowered himself into the hot, bubbly water inch by inch, his skin tingling. He laid his head on the black acrylic rim and rumbled a contented “Mmm.” He rarely had time for a good bath. Stephanie relaxed between his bent legs, leaning against his chest with her head on his shoulder. A tantalizing combination, the water and her skin, sensual waves that rippled out from his belly to the tips of his fingers and toes, to his ears.