«I don’t think there’s a great deal I can do, Elena,” Christian says to her. «If it’s a question of money.» His voice trails off. «I could ask Welch to investigate.»
«No, Christian, I just wanted to share,” she says.
When I am out of the room, I hear her say, «You look very happy.»
«I am,” Christian responds.
«You deserve to be.»
«I wish that were true.»
«Christian,” she scolds.
I freeze, listening intently. I can’t help it.
«Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues.»
«She knows me better than anyone.»
«Ouch! That hurts.»
«It’s the truth, Elena. I don’t have to play games with her. And I mean it, leave her alone.»
«What is her problem?»
«You… What we were. What we did. She doesn’t understand.»
«Make her understand.»
«It’s in the past, Elena, and why would I want to taint her with our fucked–up relationship? She’s good and sweet and innocent, and by some miracle she loves me.»
«It’s no miracle, Christian,” Elena scoffs good–naturedly. «Have a little faith in yourself. You really are quite a catch. I’ve told you often enough. And she seems lovely, too. Strong. Someone to stand up to you.»
I can’t hear Christian’s response. So I’m strong, am I? I certainly don’t feel that way.
«Don’t you miss it?» Elena continues.
«What?»
«Your playroom.»
I stop breathing.
«That really is none of your fucking business,” Christian snaps.
«I’m sorry.» Elena snorts insincerely.
«I think you’d better go. And please, call before you come again.»
«Christian, I am sorry,” she says, and from her tone, this time she means it. «Since when are you so sensitive?» She’s scolding him again.
«Elena, we have a business relationship which has profited us both immensely. Let’s keep it that way. What was between us is part of the past. Anastasia is my future, and I won’t jeopardize it in any way, so cut the fucking crap.»
His future!
«I see.»
«Look, I’m sorry for your trouble. Perhaps you should ride it out and call their bluff.» His tone is softer.
«I don’t want to lose you, Christian.»
«I’m not yours to lose, Elena,” he snaps again.
«That’s not what I meant.»
«What did you mean?» He’s brusque, angry.
«Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’ll back off from Anastasia. But I’m here if you need me. I always will be.»
«Anastasia thinks that you saw me last Saturday. You called, that’s all. Why did you tell her otherwise?»
«I wanted her to know how upset you were when she left. I don’t want her to hurt you.»
«She knows. I’ve told her. Stop interfering. Honestly, you’re like a mother hen.» Christian sounds more resigned, and Elena laughs, but there’s a sad tone to her laugh.
«I know. I’m sorry. You know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up falling in love, Christian. It’s very gratifying to see. But I couldn’t bear it if she hurt you.»
«I’ll take my chances,” he says dryly. «Now are you sure you don’t want Welch to sniff around?»
She sighs heavily. «I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.»
«Okay. I’ll call him in the morning.»
I listen to them bickering, trying to figure this out. They do sound like old friends, as Christian says. Just friends. And she cares about him—maybe too much. Well, who wouldn’t, if they knew him?
«Thank you, Christian. And I am sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go. Next time I’ll call.»
«Good.»
She’s going! Shit! I scamper up the hallway to Christian’s bedroom and sit down on the bed. Christian enters a few moments later.
«She’s gone,” he says warily, gauging my reaction.
I gaze up at him, trying to frame my question. «Will you tell me all about her? I am trying to understand why you think she helped you.» I pause, thinking carefully about my next sentence. «I loathe her, Christian. I think she did you untold damage. You have no friends. Did she keep them away from you?»
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.
«Why the fuck do you want to know about her? We had a very long–standing affair, she beat the shit out of me often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even imagine, end of story.»
I pale. Shit, he’s angry—with me. I blink at him. «Why are you so angry?»
«Because all of that shit is over !» he shouts, glowering at me. He sighs in exasperation and shakes his head.
I blanch. Shit. I look down at my hands, knotted in my lap. I just want to understand.
He sits down beside me. «What do you want to know?» he asks wearily.
«You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude.»
«Anastasia, it’s not that. I don’t like talking about this shit. I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting me and not having to justify myself to anyone. She’s always been there as a confidante. And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible.»
I glance at him and he’s staring at me, his eyes wide.
«I never thought I had a future with anyone, Anastasia. You give me hope and have me thinking about all sorts of possibilities.» He drifts off.
«I was listening,” I whisper and stare back down at my hands.
«What? To our conversation?»
«Yes.»
«Well?» He sounds resigned.
