Page 73 of Frequency of Attraction

Trav grabbed the vodka from the top shelf, added a generous pour and some ice into a shaker, and began creating the liquid numbness Vadim preferred.

“Is Quinn here yet?” Dasha asked.

He shrugged. Vadim hadn’t heard from her since he’d walked out of her Boston flat. He thought an orgasm like that last one would have warranted at least a text message, but no.

He’d been close—so close—to telling her that day how he felt about her. His new condition for sex would have laid him bare, and he had almost slipped.Tell me you love me like I love you.

“You’re in love with her.”

Trav dropped a clinking glass of clear liquid in front of him and disappeared. Vadim flicked his gaze to his mind-reading, too-loud younger sister. “I know.”

“You need to tell her.”

Vadim took a sip of the glacial spirit and exhaled. Fuck, the Geiers made good vodka. “Because?”

“She’s in love with you, too.”

“She doesn’t act like it.”

She’d told him they didn’t have a chance, then she’d moved to the opposite coast. That was not the behavior of a woman in love. Besides, walking through the home she’d made for herself had shown him that, for the first time, Quinn was focusing on herself. She was finding what she loved. As much as he wanted her, Vadim hadn’t wanted to get in the way of that. He’d kept his mouth shut. Metaphorically.

“All the things she does for Mila? She does those things for you first. And the two of you together? You’re two halves of a whole. Bodies in perfect orbit. It’s so obvious. What’s stopping you?”

“Everything.” Time, distance, lack of experience in relationships, Quinn’s wishes. If he knew how to love, he would have gladly spent the rest of his life showing her.

“Don’t get on that spaceplane without telling her, Vadim. You’ll regret it.”

He wanted to believe it possible that Quinn still loved him after everything he’d said and done. After she’d left. But Vadim didn’t deserve her, even if he never made another mistake. How selfish would it be to ask Quinn to be his? How much would it hurt not to?

“I’ll think about it.”

He did. All night.

He rose from the couch when it was still full dark. He showered and dressed with nerves as his constant companion.Tell Quinnechoed in his mind. But what would he say?

Turned out, he needn’t have worried. From the moment he walked into the hangar around four-thirty, Vadim was inundated with people, equipment, tasks, paperwork. He never even saw Quinn. He only saw background blur until, suddenly, he and Harv were alone in the locker room.

Vadim’s hands shook from adrenaline. He didn’t know how he got himself dressed in full flight gear, layer after layer of clothing and protective paraphernalia. He did know his spacesuit fit perfectly. The FAA astronaut wings held pride of place, pinned beneath his name. Fully kitted, he turned to Harv.

“Don’t say anything mushy,” Harv said with a smile. “It’s bad luck. We’ve got this.” He bumped his helmet against Vadim’s. “Let’s go prove it, kid.”

Vadim’s mouth turned to chalk as they walked onto the runway to join the other pilots and dozens of employees hard at work on the prelaunch. Hundreds of people—families and guests and citizens of Victory—hung behind the chain-link fence that lined the runway, coffee cups, binoculars, and cell phones in hand.

Inspections of both Stratos and Mothership were being conducted by flashlight and floodlight by dozens of uniformed technicians. The predawn breeze cooled his heated cheeks. Thomas had a microphone in hand and an earpiece in place. He’d keep the people on the ground informed throughout the flight, calling out each milestone as Vadim reported to Control.

Thomas beamed, a mentor proud of his protégé. “Remember how you feel in this moment, Baranov. You’ll never feel the same after you’ve been to space.”

Vadim smiled through his nerves. “Can’t fucking wait.”

Tate, sleeves rolled up and no socks with his dress shoes, as usual, slapped his back with a chuckle. “Enjoy yourself and get home safe. That’s how we define a successful mission around here.”

Quinn appeared then, all floral scent and freckles. His heart crashed down to her polka-dot shoes. “Bonne chance, Vadim. Harv.”

He wanted to thank her for the well wishes. He wanted to kiss her beautiful lips. He wanted to fuck her while those shoes dug into his back. He wanted to tell her how coming back to her as his would be as exciting as realizing this dream of his life.

Instead, he just nodded and followed Harv to the four Mothership pilots who would carry them aloft. Minutes later, they all dispersed. At the belly of Stratos, he turned to send Tate and Thomas a salute. They waved in unison. While the two men turned to talk to the director from Control, Quinn’s gaze lingered on his. She crossed her arms over her black dress, posture rounded. Against the chill? Against unhappiness?

Vadim brought his gloved fingers to his mouth and tipped them her way. It was all he could give with their little world watching and so many feelings undiscussed.

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