Page 53 of Emerald Vices

“Stop being a wuss!” I chide myself. “Time to be a big girl.”

Finally, on attempt number four, I manage to stop my feet and knock once.

Maybe he’s not here. Maybe he’s in the shower. Maybe I’ll just have to come back and?—

“Come in,” he calls before I can run down the hall like the scaredy cat I am.

It took so much energy to get here that I have no clue what I’m going to say, but I doubt all the planning in the world will change that, so I draw in a breath and open the door.

Then that breath rushes out of me in a violent burst when I’m faced with the rippling muscles of Andrey’s bare back.

He’s pulling his shirt over his head with one hand like we’re in the middle of a sexed-up fragrance commercial, showcasing his spectacular brawn and the canvas of scars that make my knees weak.

Maybe I should bring that up in therapy.

“Hey,” I greet awkwardly.

He twists around at the sound of my voice. “Natalia?”

“Hey,” I repeat again. Cringe. “Er, sorry to disturb you?—”

“You’re not disturbing me,” he assures. “I was just about to step into the shower.”

My face heats up—as does another part of my body that I’m trying to ignore. “I can come back later.”

Some time when you have a shirt on and aren’t about to be soaking wet would be preferable.

“No need. I’m all yours.”

If only that were true.

I squash the internal dialogue in my head. It’s really not helping.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course.”

Since he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to cover up all those abs, I keep my gaze north of his neck. “I want to clear the air.”

An eyebrow arches with intrigue. “Okay. Clear away.”

My heartbeat thunders relentlessly against my chest. Now, I’m regretting my decision to walk in here unprepared. Maybe having a rough idea of what I wanted to say would’ve been the smarter move. Notecards. A few bullet points in Sharpie on the palm of my hand, maybe.

“You told me that I could trust you, and you let me down.”

I walk over to the window and take a seat on one of the two armchairs. Andrey—still shirtless—sinks into the remaining armchair opposite me.

“The thing is, I asked for help. I told you what I needed and you didn’t hear me. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Either way, it felt like… like I was being abandoned.”

I curse the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I so wanted to do this without crying. But I’d underestimated the intensity of speaking openly and honestly about my feelings.

Especially with the one person who seems to have the most influence over them.

“And therapy has helped me discover that I have abandonment issues. I hate getting close to anyone because I’m terrified that they’ll leave me. And you… you left me while you were still around.”

His eyes shimmer in the sun through the window. Still, he says nothing.

“You gave me space when what I really needed was for you to lean in. And…” Wringing my hands together, I urge myself on. “And worse, you thought you could solve it all by having sex with me. Like sex was a Band-Aid to make it all better.”

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