Amour Amour

by Krista Ritchie

  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

  “I keep waiting for someone to say gotcha, Thora James, you’re really not supposed to be here,” I admit to Nikolai while we ride down the elevator, the strap of my gym bag slung on his shoulder. Tonight is my first time in Amour. Tonight is when it all becomes real.

  “You’re going to be waiting for a long time, myshka.”

  Because no one is going to pull a fast-one on me. Hopefully.

  The elevator doors slide open, and we head to the lobby. “They’re going to meet you here?” he asks, checking his watch. We still have plenty of time.

  “Yeah, my mom just texted that she’s waiting for my dad and Tanner in the hotel room.” In my family, the men take longer to corral than the women.

  We stop on the cobblestone, next to a map kiosk of The Masquerade, the 1920s clock hanging above us. I catch sight of a few familiar faces along the west wing, headed this way.

  Timo, Luka, and Katya are talking in a huddle as they walk, gesturing to the fountain wall that the Dionysus statue sits in.

  They’re up to no good.

  Nikolai is zeroed in on them, his face all strict lines. “Don’t do it,” he says under his breath.

  And then the three siblings break apart. Maybe we’re both paranoid. “They’re probably just talking—” I cut myself off as the three of them sprint towards the wall.

  “Shit,” he curses.

  Heads all across the lobby follow the three teenagers. In uniso
n, they run up the tiled wall and flip backwards, trying to land on the fountain ledge. Timo sticks it at first, but then he staggers on the lip of the marble and splashes into the water. Luka tries to help him up, but he loses his balance and follows his brother, drenched from the waist-down.

  Leaving Katya the lone victor, only her feet wet, still standing.

  People start clapping. I join in. Damn—that was cool.

  I look to my left, and Nikolai is applauding too. Katya meets our gaze with the biggest grin. It lifts my spirits, my nerves about tonight beginning to wane.

  Then I remember that she’ll be gone in a week, and my brief smile fades. Nikolai was on the phone with Sergei all last night, talking about Katya. And when he hung up, he threw the cell at the wall. Apparently his parents aren’t that excited about her joining Noctis.

  They’d rather she stayed here. Because it’s “more stable”—Nikolai used air quotes when he told me. As though it was all a joke. He wants them to love Katya the way that he does, to be as thrilled to see their daughter as she is to see them.

  But it’s not likely that’ll happen.

  He’s handing Katya off to people with less love to give, less care to offer, and it’s killing him inside.

  “Hey!” security calls, aiming towards Nikolai’s siblings.

  “Run,” Luka says, grabbing Timo and lifting him to a stance. They race away, down the east wing, slipping on the cobblestone and laughing.

  Katya shakes her head at them and steps off the fountain ledge. Security just watches her, and she points to us. “I’m with them.”

  Nikolai raises his brows. “You’re going to have to find a new scapegoat when you’re in Noctis.”

  Her shoes squish and leave wet footprints as she approaches. “No, I’m not.”

  I frown in confusion.

  She rocks on the balls of her feet, her long brown hair parted in the center. Her big, round eyes seem to sparkle like her brothers’ now. “Because…” She smiles, tears filling her eyes. “I’m staying here.”

  Nikolai’s face falls in shock. “What?” He looks to me, as if I planned this.

  I hold up my hands. “I didn’t know anything.”

  “It was my decision.” Katya fiddles with her fingers. “I’ve thought about it since Thanksgiving…” She takes a deep breath. “…I only wanted to go to Noctis because Mom and Dad were there. And it took me some time but I realized something important.” She rubs her eyes with her hand, cheeks already splotchy.

  “And what’s that?” Nikolai asks.

  She laughs into a tearful, happy smile. “I realized,” she says, “that you’re more of a parent to me than they ever were.” She laughs again and points at him. “You’re my favorite brother, Nik. You know that?”

  He has his hand over his mouth, his eyes flooding. When he drops his arm, he says, “And you’re my favorite sister.”

  “I’m your only sister,” she reminds him.

  He hugs her, and I hear him whisper in Russian that sounds close to thank you. He wanted her to stay.

  I wanted her to stay. I blow out a breath, relief loosening my muscles. She chose him over her parents.

  This good news comes on the heels of Luka’s. He accepted a role in Infini yesterday, after learning a new discipline. They’ve added the Wheel of Death back into the show, the apparatus that Timo was previously known for. The one that Luka didn’t think he had the patience or skill to learn.

  I realize exactly what this means for the future. Katya will be in Vegas. With Luka. Timo.

  Nikolai.

  And me.

  I smile. So much. It’s a better ending than the one we’d all been imagining.

  When they break apart, Katya looks to me, wiping her eyes again. “Can I keep Darkest Warmest Night until I finish?” she asks me.

  I nod and Nikolai gives me a look. “What kind of book is that?”

  I clear my throat, a tickle where my lie sits. “It’s not romantic.”

  “It’s about a werewolf family,” Katya says. “It’s a good book.”

  I really can’t stop smiling. “Exactly.”

  He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. And that’s when I see my mom, dad, and little brother emerge from the elevators. My pulse picks up speed.

  “Good luck tonight,” Katya tells me, noticing my family. “I’ll be in the nosebleeds with Luka, but we’ll be there.” She waves goodbye and heads down the east wing.

  The nerves return.

  “Act normal,” I say to Nikolai. This’ll be fine. Don’t sweat it. The closest I’ve come to this moment was introducing my homecoming date to my parents. I was sixteen. Not living with him, of course. This is a different caliber.

  Nikolai stares down at me. “As opposed to all the times I act abnormal.”

  Right. No, wait, not right. “You pierced my…”

  “Thora!” My mom exclaims, throwing her hands in the air to hug me. That was a close call. She squeezes me tightly, my dad nearby with a proud smile.

  “Pierced what?” Tanner asks. Or not.

  My thirteen-year-old brother is taller than me. It’s not right. He has his hands in his jeans, sizing up Nikolai.

  “I pierced her friend’s ear,” Nikolai lies easily.

  Tanner looks impressed. “Really?”

  “It’s easy if you have a piercing gun.”

  “Huh,” he says.

  I’m in a death-grip with my mom, frozen at the string of lies. No one thinks they’re lies but you. Right. I release my mom so she can breathe and then gently hug my dad.

  “I’m proud of you, Thora,” he says again. He tells me that almost every day now. Even though I achieved this position with my boyfriend’s help—they see it as a true success. I didn’t think they would, but their joy—it’s everything to me.

  Don’t cry.

  I’ve been doing well so far. “Thank you. And thanks for coming.” I hug Tanner next.

  And he whispers, “Your boyfriend is a fucking beast.” He has an f-bomb problem.

  “He’s not that tall.”

  Tanner steps back from me and gives me a weird look. “Did Vegas make you stupid?”

  “Hey,” my dad cuts in.

  “Just saying,” Tanner says, raising his hands. “I’d still live here…even if it rots a couple brain cells.” He nods his head, fixated on a much older cocktail waitress at the casino bar.

  “I’m sure,” I say. Now for the hard part. “Mom, Dad…this is Nikolai.” I gesture between the three of them. My two worlds are colliding again. This time, it’s a much smoother fusion.

  Nikolai shakes my father’s hand, both amicable.

  “Thanks for looking after my daughter,” my dad says.

  “She did well on her own.” He looks down at me, his lips rising.

  My mom is full-blown smiling. “How long have you two been together?”

  “Almost seven months,” he answers.

  Seven months. It went by quickly but in the same breath, I feel like I’ve spent years with him. Maybe because we shared every day together training.

  “Seven months?” She smiles more, if that’s even possible. “Wow.”

  I say, “It’s been wow.” I end up grimacing. What even was that? It’s been wow. That’s not how you describe a relationship. “I mean…you know what I mean.” Stop while you’re ahead, Thora.

  “Well, you have a show to get to,” my dad begins. “We just wanted to wish you good luck. And we’ll see you after?”

  “But we won’t keep you too long,” my mom interjects. “We know you’ll want to celebrate with your friends.”

  I start crying. I don’t know why. Maybe having them here. My two worlds meeting. Their pride. Their love for me. My mom hugs me again, tears welling in her eyes.

  “We’re so very proud of you, Thora,” she whispers again.

  No matter how many times they say it, it will always overwhelm me. I think it’s the part of me that wants to please them the most—the piece of my heart t
hat craves their satisfaction—that soars with that phrase.

  I’m flying today. In all ways.

  Act Forty-Nine

  Behind stage, I wait for my cue.

  My heart races, not matching the slow-burning tempo of the music to our act. Nikolai is already in front of the audience. I exhale a few trained breaths, my costume’s white wispy fabric away from my feet. Icicle lights are strung, the background a romantic, cloudy night sky.

  And I focus on the melodic sounds of a violin.

  Another exhale.

  Relax, relax.

  My mind traverses a million miles an hour, but I land on Nikolai’s advice, from a long time ago. His deep voice resonates in my mind like a whisper.

  Whatever passion you’ve ever encountered in your life, you use it now, Thora.

  It’s not hard to search for it, existing right at the surface, unlike before. I peek out, where the audience can’t see me. Nikolai descends from the aerial silk, eyes masked in purple and silver paint, his chest rising and falling in a powerful rhythm.

  This is our act.

  Our passion.

  He looks my way.

  Someone taps my shoulder, my cue. I’m ready. Without second-guessing, without falter, I sprint onto stage. I run towards him without slowing.

  Nikolai stands tall, beckoning me, and I leap with all my strength. He bends only slightly, my left leg catching above his shoulder as I latch onto him. The gasp from the audience is the last thing I hear, blocking out the rest.

  I clutch his hair, and he grips my back, our inhales in sync. Our exhales timed. My heart explodes.

  In a billion pieces at the way he stares at me. At how he holds my face, caringly, like the love of his life just ran into his arms. He whispers something in Russian that I know means: I love you.

  It builds something in me.

  And his desire fuels mine.

  Slowly, he kisses me, an ache in my throat, and he grasps me like it pains him to be away. I lean backwards, breathless, and flip onto the cold stage. Smooth, agile. He grasps the hem of my costume, tearing off the extra fabric with my momentum. Leaving me in a thinner, shorter white slip.

  My nerves are gone. I think he knows it, a smile in his eyes. Almost like you’re doing well, myshka. I contort my body, languidly flipping onto my feet. He circles me, stands behind me, and I only watch him, looking up.