Linka felt herself slowly relaxing during dinner. They avoided any controversial topics and Wheeler consciously restrained himself from flirting.
"How's the pasta?" he asked, nodding at her plate of penne.
"Good." Linka lifted a forkful to her mouth, then smiled. Wheeler smiled back. Neither said anything.
Linka started to giggle. "Sorry," she said, covering her mouth.
"And we were doing so well." Wheeler shook his head.
"We still are." Linka sipped her wine. "We are doing very well."
"Seriously?"
"Da. This place is lovely."
"You are lovely."
"Are you allowed to say things like that?"
"What? Did we have an agreement not to?"
"It was unspoken, but da, I think we did."
"Oh, right. The whole minimising awkwardness thing." Wheeler leaned back in his chair. "Is it weird to be enjoying myself so much when my father's in hospital?"
Linka looked at him sympathetically. "Nyet. But I know what you mean. When my father died …" She stopped. "Oh Wheeler, I am so sorry – I didn't mean that …"
"Hey, it's okay." He laid a hand on hers. "I know what you mean. Carry on."
Linka could feel the warmth of his hand. "Well … after my father died, I felt guilty about enjoying anything. I felt like I was a selfish person. But then I realised that he would want me to be happy."
"Yeah? Your father sounds nicer than my father. I'm pretty sure mine would be okay with a bit of guilt and misery."
"Wheeler!" Linka took his hand and turned it over to see his power ring. She swivelled it slightly so it was centred on his index finger.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Wheeler was watching her play with his ring. "So …"
"So."
"Do you want dessert? Coffee?"
"Not really." Linka released Wheeler's hand, smiling shyly.
"I might go back to the apartment, then. Don't want my Mom to worry again."
"Oh." Linka moved back slightly. "Well, I suppose I should go to the hotel. I'll call Gi."
"Okay."
Linka pulled out her phone and started to dial. Wheeler reached across and took it.
"Hey!"
"Yeah, so I was thinking …" he cancelled the call. "Would you like to come back, see the apartment? I can make you some really terrible instant coffee."
"How terrible?" Linka's voice was still indignant, but she was smiling.
"Really, really bad. I mean, add the fact that I personally always make awful coffee to the fact that our instant coffee tastes like tarmac and you've got yourself a pretty shocking hot beverage."
"Sounds enticing."
"Also you get to see my room. It'll give you ammunition for years to come."
"Also enticing."
"So what do you say? I'm holding your phone to ransom."
"I say …" Linka hesitated. She looked across at the young American. "All right. But we mustn't stay up too late."
"Agreed."
XXXXXXX
Wheeler fumbled for his apartment key, and dropped it.
"Damn."
He felt flustered. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to invite Linka back. The apartment was hardly an advertisement for stylish New York living. Hardly a good way to impress a date.
"Did you grow up here?" Linka asked from behind him. Wheeler turned the key.
"Yeah. Except for a brief period when I lived with friends … before I became a Planeteer."
He pushed the door open. "So. Here it is."
Linka looked around. She saw a small living room and kitchen, with wooden furniture and threadbare orange couches. A small vase of wilting flowers on the table was a testament to Bridget's optimism.
"Yeah, it's a little seventies." Wheeler was rummaging in one of the kitchen cupboards.
Linka spotted a few framed photographs on the sideboard and wandered towards them. There was Bridget, and there was Wheeler's father – much younger, and laughing. A toddler clung to their hands, mouth open wide in a gappy smile. A shock of red hair confirmed the boy's identity.
"Very cute."
Wheeler turned round to see what she was looking at, and laughed. "I think your next line is, 'what happened'?"
Linka smiled and turned back to the photographs, tracing her finger lightly along the frames. There was a black and white wedding photograph, then a more recent picture of Wheeler.
"Who took this?"
"What? Oh. Gi, I think. My Mom wanted a photo."
Linka examined it. She could see it was taken on Hope Island. Wheeler was in full sunlight, smiling into the camera. His teeth looked very white, his eyes very blue. She ran a finger along the outline of his chest for a moment – then something else caught her eye. An unframed postcard-sized photograph, propped up behind one of the frames. It showed Wheeler with his arm around a girl with very pale blonde hair and dark eyes. It was snowing, and behind them she could make out an ice-rink teeming with skaters.
"Who's this?" she asked, keeping her voice casual.
Wheeler was pouring the coffee. "Who?"
"This girl."
He came over carrying two mismatched mugs. "Here you go. Hey – that's a really old photo. I didn't know Mom still had that out." He took it from her. "That's Trish."
"Trish."
"Old girlfriend." He put the photo face-down on the table.
"How old?"
"You mean how old was she, or how long ago were we together?" There was a mischievous gleam in Wheeler's eyes.
"You know what I mean, Yankee!"
"We split up just before I joined the Planeteers."
"How long were you together?"
"Um, about three years, I guess? Two and a half. But we've known each other for ages."
"Do you still keep in touch?" Linka took a sip of her coffee. Wheeler was right – it was terrible.
"From time to time. We don't have that much in common anymore." Wheeler patted the seat beside him. "It's not important, babe. It was a long time ago."
"I didn't say it was important!" Linka crossed her arms defensively.
"Oh man." Wheeler ran a hand through his hair. "Can we start over?"
"I am sorry, Wheeler." Linka sat down on the edge of the couch, and smiled a little awkwardly. "You were right. This coffee is truly awful."
"It is, isn't it? Let's abandon it. I'll show you my room." He stood up. "No hidden meaning, I promise."
"I know." Linka stood and followed him.
"Ta-dah!" Wheeler pushed open the door. Linka laughed involuntarily – it was such a teenage boy's room. Star Wars bed-linen, posters on the walls, clothes hanging half out of drawers.
"It was a lot tidier before I arrived." Wheeler sat down on the bed, which creaked under his weight.
"I can imagine. I have seen your room on Hope Island."
"Yeah. Chaos and devastation – my work here is done."
Linka sat beside him on the bed, playing with her ring. She kept her eyes cast downwards.
"So. I had better …"
Before she could finish, Wheeler quickly bent his head and kissed her full on the lips. His mouth was warm and soft, but the kiss was swift and he pulled away before she could return it.
"Sorry," he said when she looked up. "I couldn't help it." He was smiling, but his eyes were serious.
Linka raised a hand to her lips. "I …" She felt that all-too-familiar mix of excitement and panic.
"I know. Man, I'm an idiot. Look, just forget I did that, and we'll …"
Linka traced the outline of Darth Vader on the pillow. "No, Wheeler, it is okay." She paused. Why was she so scared? After all, wasn't this what they had been moving towards for months now? No, scratch that – years. And it wasn't like she had never been involved with a man before. What frightened her so much about this situation?
And then she realised.
Almost no one knew her as well as Wheeler. They had witnessed each other's best and worst over the years – laughed together, fought together, occasionally even cried together. He had seen her with no makeup on. She had seen him cooking pancakes wearing nothing but a towel. He had stood by her during her addiction to Bliss and her grandmother's illness. She had listened to him talk about his father's alcoholism and his own fears that he would end up the same way. They had worked and lived side-by-side for years. If their relationship deepened, there would be nowhere for Linka to hide – he would see through all her defences. He knew her too well for pretence. He would demand honesty.
Was that why she had resisted all these years? And was her fear of being vulnerable going to keep him at arms' length again?
She came to a decision.
Wheeler was worried. The young Russian had been silent for a few minutes now. He watched the delicate line of her profile – her green eyes were narrowed and her smooth brow was creased by a frown.
"Linka, I didn't mean to push you. I know I've been a real insensitive jerk about it in the past."
"Well, that is true." She laughed a little.
"So … I should take you back to the hotel?"
Linka leaned forwards and held Wheeler's lapels. "Not just yet, I think," she said, and pulled his head down to meet hers in a long kiss.
"Wow," he said, taking a breath. His chest was rising and falling quickly. "Do you have any idea how many teenage fantasies you're fulfilling in this room?"
"Wheeler?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
And for quite a while afterwards there was no more opportunity for talking.
