Alright, so I missed my holiday deadline by a month (or two), but -
OMG - a friggin' decade later, WE MADE IT! Can you believe it?
I just want to take a second to thank each and every one of you - whether you left a review or not, poked me with a private message whenever I was gone too long, read each installment in tearful silence or laughed or just rolled your eyes at the banality of it all...you read my work and I'm so grateful. I can't count all the times I wanted to give up, but all of you were always in the back of my mind, urging me on. Every single one of you made me a better writer, perhaps even a better version of myself as a person than when I started. I couldn't have finished this without you, and I certainly would never have mustered the courage to pursue even bigger and brighter things with my writing. All of you changed my life. So, for your ABSOLUTELY INFINITE PATIENCE and steadfastness and belief in me, from the very bottom of my heart, THANK YOU SO MUCH.
I love all of y'all, truly.
By the by, I have stepped out of the shadows a bit and now tiptoe around social media, so check out the links in my bio and come follow me! You'll be the first to know when my official website goes live (!) and you can sign up for my mailing list, so you'll be in the loop when my original books drop! Might even be some free goodies in it for you if you do...just saying ;)
Stay easy, my darlings! It's been a wild ride :)
Love always,
J.F
Dimitri winced from a hand cramp and set his suitcase on the ground. He'd been stuck in line behind a middle-aged curmudgeon in a fedora for the last twenty minutes. The man continued debating the lady at the ticket counter with no sign of backing down.
Shifting his weight, Dimitri gritted his teeth and tapped his foot. This was taking much longer than he'd expected. Too long.
The idle time waiting to purchase his train ticket offered the gift of perspective, one Dimitri wished he could refuse. He still couldn't believe he'd managed to face Anya one last time without buckling into a heap at her feet, right there on the grand staircase in full public view after watching her mask her hurt with her savage pride. Witnessing the damage he'd inflicted had cut him to ribbons.
At least the rage with which Anya had trembled had lent him strength, taking shape around him, raising the hairs on his arms and churning the bile in his gut. Dimitri had never been more grateful for anything. It extinguished the remnants of his romantic fantasies, reminding him that his departure was the most loving thing he could do for her.
Nodding slowly to himself, he shifted again and gnawed on a fingernail. Resolve was a powerful force. It had acted as armor when her anger faltered on those stairs, just for a moment, and Dimitri had nearly blurted that he loved her.
He'd never forget her cool disdain before he turned his back. He framed the image in his thoughts and nailed it to the wall of his mind. Any time in the future, if he ever got weak and wanted to think of kissing Anya on the Tasha, or holding her hand at the ballet, or if he actually dared to send a letter explaining everything, just thinking of that look on her face would give him the fortitude to go on with his life.
Fedora Man stepped aside at last. The brunette at the counter cast a baleful eye at Dimitri, likely exhausted from her last lengthy encounter. Dimitri slid his suitcase forward with his foot and shuffled to the window.
"Francais?"
Dimitri shook his head. "Russe," he said, a bit proud of the smidgen of French he'd learned during his short time in Paris. His first and last.
The woman nodded, her large nose casting a noticeable shadow on her bony hands. "Where are you headed, sir?" she asked in unbroken Russian.
What a loaded question.
Dimitri realized with a start he didn't have a destination in mind when he'd arrived at the station. The word "out" had reverberated throughout his being from the moment he'd hightailed it from the royal residence, clinging to him like a foul odor. He had stuffed his clothes haphazardly into his suitcase, checked out of the hotel and jumped into the first taxi he spotted like he was running from the law. Dimitri just wanted to be gone by any means necessary. "Um..."
The employee pursed her lips and tapped her nails on the counter. "Sir, there is a long line behind you. Destination, please - "
"I know, I'm sorry..." He looked up at the terminal listings written in chalk on the board behind the woman's head. "What's the cheapest country to get to from here?" Vladimir had successfully sneaked some cash into Dimitri's coat pocket before they said their final goodbye. Plenty to get by on for now, but it had to stretch. The life waiting for Dimitri at the end of whatever track he chose remained a mysterious misery, but if he played his cards right, he'd at least not go hungry for a while.
Glancing over her shoulder, the woman said, "Belgium. Train leaves in ten minutes."
"How much?"
"Thirty-five francs."
Damn...a decent chunk of his safety net and he still wasn't getting far in terms of distance.
Dimitri sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "Fine." He reached into his coat for the money roll, brows bunching just as he realized he was searching the wrong pocket and something like velvet met his fingertips instead. He pulled it out and his pulse quickened as he stared at the rose Anya had given him. Bruised and fragrant, the tight bud it had been was now in full bloom as each petal curled away from the base.
"Sir!"
He jumped. "Sorry, I...need a minute." Dimitri snatched up his suitcase and stepped out of line, not missing the sigh of relief from whoever had been standing behind him. He retreated to a bank of wooden benches draped in shadow, threw his suitcase in the spot next to him to discourage company, then sat down near the wall with forearms braced on his knees as he stared at his floral stowaway.
A dying flower had left him gutted. He rolled the cut stem between his fingertips, wishing the knowledge that Anya's fingers had been where his were now didn't make his entire body clench with grief.
Dimitri decided to take some time to get it together. It didn't mean he didn't plan to leave - of course he did, he had to - but he couldn't bear to move from his seat at the moment.
He swiveled to prop his feet on his suitcase, twilight darkening the large squares of sky in the station windows as he counted the individual petals of the rose. A pure light had beamed from Anya's face when she tucked it into his lapel and ducked her head to hide her blush. He barely noticed the rose at the time, but now as he held the last physical reminder of her in his hands, Dimitri wanted to destroy it.
Sitting up to stare at the giant clock affixed to the brick above the station entrance, he made a random game of plucking off a petal once every seven minutes. He had six petals left to go when he noticed a balding man taking the place of the hook-nosed woman in the ticket booth during a shift change.
Dimitri looked back at the clock and pulled off another, letting his newest acquisition fall into the small blood-red pile in his lap. The trains would run for another few hours. No rush.
He fell asleep with his head against the wall around eight o' clock. Jumped up in determination with a set jaw and marched to the ticket counter just before nine. Took ten minutes to decide where to go, just to fall out of line again.
Indecision paralyzed him. Dimitri knew he needed out, but to where? Even Vladimir had decided to stay in Paris. Was Dimitri really that anxious to take an exhausting, endless trip back to his birthplace just to live in a hovel alone for the rest of his life?
Ten o'clock came and went. Eleven. Midnight.
He again tried desperately to purchase his escape, even pulled the needed bills from his wad of cash. The second he put the money on the counter, Dimitri felt a frigid void open in the pit of his stomach. The thought of leaving and never coming back...he practically stumbled back to his dark corner of the station in defeat, holding his head in his hands.
What was wrong with him?
Anya was of royal blood, chosen by history and fate to lead their dismantled country into a brighter future, and he...
Well. Dimitri had always known what he brought to the table: some decent cooking skills and a penchant for telling colorful lies to turn a profit. Not an ideal combo for a husband. Or a good person, for that matter.
He toyed with the bare stem of the rose, picked clean hours ago now. His efforts had done nothing to purge his mind of Anya, his thoughts still thick with images of her that tortured him.
Dimitri had thought he was strong enough to leave her, that he was selfless enough.
He couldn't even make himself buy a train ticket.
Digging into his pocket, he eyed the small convenience shop where a cashier in an apron piddled around, straightening a rack of newspapers. Dimitri got to his feet and hurried to buy some liquid courage before they closed for the night.
The wee hours of morning swung around long after he'd returned to his bench. At least, he supposed so; the numbers on the station clock had just started to blur and he couldn't tell for sure. He took another sip from his bottle of vodka and blinked hard at the train platform across the way. When he'd wandered by after making his purchase, the schedule indicated the final train would leave the station twenty minutes from now. Dimitri knew this, just as he knew he had enough change after his overpriced alcohol to do one of two things: procure a ticket to Madrid or fund a couple of nights at a roach motel in his current city and a least a few more bottles of liquor.
Taking a gulp so big some of the clear liquid trickled down his chin, Dimitri's body flushed with its artificial warmth and the sickening awareness of which option would win out.
He couldn't leave her. It made him an idiot and a fool, but he couldn't do it.
Dimitri hiccuped and let his head hang. They would never be together, but his destiny felt intertwined with Anya's in a way that had forever altered him. He couldn't see himself with another woman, not one of worth who deserved an exclusive love and a husband who would not always find her inadequate compared to an incomparable princess.
Glaring at nothing in particular, Dimitri resigned himself to a marriage, indeed - to the ghost of the Anya who had belonged to him, however briefly. He knew he himself was doomed to haunt the City of Light for the rest of his days.
Pitiful, yes, but his new reality nonetheless.
Holding his bottle by the neck, he shambled his way to the men's restroom.
Dimitri washed his hands over and over again when he finished, but he could still feel the softness of Anya's skin against his fingers. He faced the mirror and the purplish darkness smeared under his eyes jarred him. His cheeks looked more sunken than he remembered, his skin pale as unbaked dough. All told, he looked as if he'd survived a war. Barely.
He toasted his reflection with the whole bottle and took another drink, embracing the searing burn as it worked its way down his throat and settled into his empty stomach. He'd feel sick any minute now, but he didn't care. He still had at least half a bottle to dispatch before he could pass out on his bench like a good and proper vagabond.
The squeak of the restroom door split the silence like a siren when he exited and he stopped cold, eyes bulging in disbelief at what he saw near the shuttered newspaper display.
Anya.
Or a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance and just happened to be wearing a blue dress like the one he'd bought back in Germany, because it made no sense whatsoever for the real thing to be there.
She was sitting on a bench between the ticket booth and the convenience shop, head bowed with both hands gripping the seat.
He squeezed his eyes closed as hard as he could and opened them again, his first thought that he'd somehow grossly exceeded his limit for alcohol consumption already and had passed into a drunken hallucination, but no - Anya leaped up like she'd been shot when the vodka bottle slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor.
Her startled expression faded into one of grim determination and she approached, her echoing footsteps loud and sure in the empty station.
Anya stopped in front of him, raising an eyebrow at the broken glass and puddle of alcohol at his feet that had soaked his shoes and the bottom of a pants leg. Her nose wrinkled. Dimitri thought it was a reaction to the pungent fumes until she said, "You look like shit."
He knew he looked like he felt but couldn't respond in his shock. Why was she here, especially alone? How? Why wasn't she at the grand ball being held in her honor right now?
What the hell was going on?
"What - " he hiccuped again and coughed to gather himself. He didn't trust his own eyes, still half expecting to be speaking to some illusion. "How...are you here?"
"How?" Anya crossed her arms as if insulted. "I am the Grand Duchess of Russia, aren't I? I can do what I want." She sniffed and looked down her nose at the scuffed tile floor. "Well, I was anyway."
Was?
A chill shot through Dimitri at her declaration as a uniformed custodian emerged from a utility closet nearby and cast a curious glance in their direction.
This was not a conversation for the public, no matter how small the audience.
Dimitri started to grab Anya's hand but thought better of it, fearing he'd fall apart at the casual touch of skin on skin. He gestured for her to follow him instead. With a sense of relief when she trailed several paces behind him, he guided her to the one place he could think of with a lock on the door.
The ladies' restroom was all soft powder pink tile and gleaming floors - a far cry from the filth of the men's restroom across the hall. The janitor had his work cut out for him in there.
He and Anya stared at each other. Dimitri struggled to accept that he could actually hear her breathing in the hostile silence and hadn't completely lost his mind in his pining for her.
Something pained crossed her face and she tucked her arms closer to her body with a ferocious scowl, her hands balled into fists. "Do you have any idea how many train stations there are in the stupid city?" she said, her accusatory words sharp as needles. "Seven. There are seven totally different train stations spread out all over this place. This one is number seven."
Dimitri swallowed, not following. "Okay..."
"Vlad drove me around for hours trying to find you. We were gone so long we had to stop and get snacks."
"I don't...I'm sorry, but I still don't understand what you're doing here," Dimitri said, his voice bouncing off the smooth surfaces of the restroom as he repeated himself in abject confusion. He frowned. "And what do you mean you were the Grand Duchess?"
Anya fell quiet, reticence her answer to his question. Her eyes formed slits. "I thought you were going back to St. Pe - "
"I was."
Her stance softened slightly. "And you didn't take the - "
"I couldn't." Dimitri braced for the question he knew was coming, the answer too big to do anything but destroy him all over again.
"Why?"
Leaning on one of the sinks, he took in a breath and let it out in a long whoosh. It didn't make answering her any easier. "Because - "
"Wait."
He looked up to find Anya's hand aloft to stay him. As Dimitri blinked in surprise, she delicately settled herself on the floor against the wall across from him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
All Dimitri saw was the Grand Duchess of Russia sitting on the cold floor in a public restroom.
"God, Anya," he said with a grimace, "don't sit on the floor - "
"Don't tell me what to do." Her nostrils flared. "Sit," she said with a commanding gesture of her finger.
Dimitri squatted onto his heels against the side of the first toilet stall and nervously licked his lips.
"Now," Anya said, raising her chin to meet his gaze, "tell me something real."
When she didn't elaborate, Dimitri's brows met in bewilderment once more. "What do you mean?"
"I need to know what you sound like when you're not telling me bullshit."
He sighed with a helpless shrug. "Tell me what you want to know." The lies that had been a part of his existence for so long had exacted a heavy cost, more than Anya knew. Dimitri felt ready to lay his burden down.
The only sound between them for a long while was the steady drip of water from one of the faucets.
Finally: "Tell me something you don't want me to know."
Dimitri could think of a million things that fit her criteria. He rubbed the tense muscles at the back of his neck. "I..." The words stuck in his throat. He stopped and dropped his hand, face hot. He understood her wanting to punish him, but like this? "I get...I get lonely a lot."
The corners of Anya's mouth drew down in a frown. Apparently, she found his answer lacking. "You think you're the only one? Do better than that or I'm leaving right now."
Dimitri's blood suddenly heated with frustration. "What the hell is this, Anya? You're not even supposed to be here, and now you're giving me the third degree with stupid questions like you don't know who I am - "
"I don't." Her pronouncement swept in like a quiet storm and silenced Dimitri as surely as a gag in his mouth. Her ranting and raving he could parry, not this venomous calm that made his skin prickle.
"I don't know where the lies stop and the truth starts. I don't know what's real and what's not. I don't know how much of you is real." Anya's eyes held him fast. Dimitri saw in them the self-assurance of a queen who did and said what she pleased and got exactly what she wanted.
He was almost afraid.
Anya folded her hands in her lap. "But do you know what is real, Dimitri? Suffering is real. Losing my best friend, my parents and siblings, digging around in trash cans for food, being terrified of falling asleep in the freezing cold and not waking up - that's real. So tell me something painful and maybe I'll actually believe what you have to say."
Dimitri bit his lip and grabbed a handful of his own hair, wanting to rip it out. On the one hand, he was ecstatic to see Anya. He literally thought he'd never see her again in the flesh the rest of his natural life. On the other...she appeared to be in no mood to forgive and he kept saying all the wrong things.
The truth, as always, was too hideous to speak aloud.
"I don't know what you want from me, Anya." He studied the icy sheen of the floor tiles.
If she had been blinded by his veil of dishonesty before, her eyes had long cleared. "Yes, you do." Dimitri cautioned a glance to find them narrowed at him again.
He fell quiet and when Anya made a sudden motion to stand, his heart froze in panic. He was losing her -
"I feel like my parents left me because I wasn't good enough," he said, his words running together in a rush.
She stilled. "That true?"
"Yes." Dimitri could barely get oxygen around the knot in his throat.
Anya's fierce expression contorted into one of horror. "But your mother -"
"Yes, Anya," Dimitri said, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice. "Exactly."
She paused for a moment then relaxed back against the wall, the anger in her face dissolving at last into something pensive. "What else?"
What else?
Having just dredged the darkest depths of his soul for his answer, Dimitri was aghast. "Jesus, that wasn't enough?"
"After what you did? No."
Dimitri's sigh held an edge of bitterness. "What else do you need to know?"
"Everything." Anya didn't flinch.
Dimitri sucked his teeth and looked away. "That could take a while," he said, half under his breath.
"The last train already left, so you aren't going anywhere." Anya wet her lips and set her mouth in a stern line.
Fine. Fine. Dimitri didn't want to provide any more grist for her mill, but once he opened his mouth, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out.
Unable to look at her as he spoke, he did tell her everything, in no particular order - the attempts on his life, the cons gone bad, the cold, the starvation and stealing to survive, the gnawing loneliness after his mother took her own life, his long fight to keep similar ideations at bay.
Dimitri kept talking and talking, barely aware of what he revealed.
"I've been one handful of cash from living on the street my entire life. I'm terrified of dying alone. I hate my father for leaving. Part of me hates my mother for not loving me enough to stay. Vlad is the only father I've ever really known." He said all this in nearly a single breath, then looked Anya dead in the eye. "And I swear on my fucking life," Dimitri told her with sudden intensity, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion, "I would have slit my own throat before I would have let that monster hurt you that way."
Anya's eyes widened as she realized what he meant and she finally broke eye contact. He could see she still felt raw about it. Dimitri wished all over again she and Vladimir had let him put Ivan down like a rabid dog the way he deserved.
He watched her shoulders lift and drop with a deep exhalation after a heady moment. She spoke with a voice stretched paper-thin. "I believe you." Lips pursed, she contemplated the stains on the ceiling. She didn't speak again.
Dimitri's chest heaved with mute, anxious breaths. Not knowing what thoughts raced through Anya's head drove him insane, but at least she didn't think the absolute worst of him now.
She drew her knees into her body, distinct peaks forming beneath the fabric of her dress. Time stretched on and on. Dimitri waited as the tension slowly pulled him apart at the seams.
"Why didn't you take the money?" Her repeated question arrived as a whisper, even more affecting in its quietness.
Dimitri closed his eyes, filling his lungs with air that smelled of bleach and flowery lady soap. Then he looked at Anya so she could see his soul. Scars and all. "Because I love you, Anya. I have loved you since you were a little girl."
Her look of confusion wasn't the reaction he'd expected and he hurried to explain. "What I was trying to tell you at the ballet was that I worked at the palace when you were a child. We met before, back then."
When Anya hit him with a full-on sneer, Dimitri couldn't tell if it was born of perplexity or if she thought - "I swear to God, Dimitri, if you're lying -"
"I'm not! You can ask the Dowager if you want; she remembered me. And my mother." It hurt him that she still believed...he tossed up his hands in futility, not finding the strength to come to his own defense anymore. Their téte-á-téte had drained him. Besides, he'd brought this on himself.
The sink continued to drip.
Beyond the restroom, the rumble of the custodian dragging a mop bucket across the floor.
"Worked where in the palace?"
Hope raised Dimitri's head. "The kitchen."
"Huh." Anya chewed her lip.
Sensing an opening, Dimitri said, "We had a...sort of game for a while, I guess." He measured his words with the caution of a snake charmer, watching her reaction, but a wistful smile emerged at the recollection. "I found you in the pantry once sneaking food, so I used to hide the apples you liked in your - "
"Dollhouse," she finished out of nowhere, surprising him and appearing as if she'd stunned herself even more.
Dimitri's pulse stuttered. She remembered?
Jaw slack, it took some time for Anya to find speech again. "I could never figure out where they were coming from..." Dimitri watched the memories play out across her face before she refocused on him. "That was you?"
Dimitri nodded, a tentative optimism rising for the first time in his heart.
"I-I knew I wasn't allowed...we could never have been friends," Anya said in a voice soft as powder. "I knew that, but...I thought you were sweet in a quiet sort of way and I just wanted to talk to you, have a real conversation with someone my age who wasn't family. Olga somehow found out I used to watch for you and threatened to tell Mama -"
"You used to look for me?" Dimitri posed the question haltingly in absolute disbelief, about to melt into a puddle where he sat.
Anya smiled at him for the first time. "I did." Then her face crumpled and her elegant hand flew to her mouth. "The wall...oh, my God."
A sad smile crept across Dimitri's face in answer to her unspoken question. "Yeah."
Retreating within herself, Anya stared out at Dimitri with what he knew were new eyes. He said nothing. Just knowing he had a chance now had given him inexhaustible patience.
She sniffled and brushed at her face with her fingertips. "What happened after?"
Dimitri decided this would be the last time he spoke or thought of that night. It was time to put it behind him. "Soldier knocked me out with a gun. When I came to, I found the jewelry box you'd dropped."
"Jewelry - ? Oh, the music box," Anya said, recognition lighting her face. "Long story," she added with a dismissive wave at his questioning look.
"What about you? After you and the Dowager got out of the palace, I mean." Dimitri steeled himself.
"We tried to get to the nearest train station. Ran almost the whole way and the next train was literally moving down the track by the time we got there." Dimitri watched her visibly shudder, her eyes flicking back and forth as she watched her past unfold in her mind. "Grandmama was able to get on before I did. I tried to grab her hand, but the train was too fast and I was too tired and scared. I slipped and fell." She swallowed and looked up at Dimitri. "You know the rest."
He didn't know all of it, but he knew enough. And he would always wish he had done enough. "I'm so sorry, Anya." It was all he could say, unable to name the host of things he felt sorry for. His apology felt bigger and heavier than he could hold. He could never give Anya back everything she had lost.
Her eyes lost their frosty gleam as she shook her head. "If it hadn't been for you, Grandmama and I would have probably died that night."
"Don't," Dimitri said, throat closing as he shut his eyes.
"I mean it, Dimitri. Thank you. For everything." He opened them in time to catch her tiny smile. "Even the apples," she said.
His heartbeat grew louder than his breathing. Her gratitude made him petrified to want this, to want her, knowing what it would cost him to lose it again.
"I should be thanking you," Dimitri said, soft voice almost drowned out by the dripping sink. "I met you after my mother died." He gnawed his lip, eyes burning dangerously. "You made me want to go on when I thought I couldn't."
Anya's chin quivered. "I didn't do anything. Don't say that."
"It's true. When you let me save you and the Dowager, you saved me." Dimitri rose onto his knees and more or less crawled across the floor to where she sat hunched against the wall, and she covered her face with both hands when he reached her. "But you have to know," he said, "the only things I lied about had to do with the money. Everything else was real, Anya. All of it. I swear."
She burst into gulping sobs and tried hard to dam the flood of tears with her palms, her entire body shaking with the force of it. Her anguish made Dimitri feel as if he were falling to pieces, too.
"Come on, don't," he said in her ear. He took hold of her wrists with gentle fingers and moved them so he could see her face, ducking into her view. "Why are you crying?"
"Because!" From her menacing grimace, Dimitri wouldn't have been able to detect Anya's sadness if not for the wetness on her cheeks. She inhaled a quivering breath. "I hate what you did and how you made me feel and I'm still so angry, but I love you, too, goddammit, and I've been fucking miserable without you and -"
Dimitri put an end to her breathless tirade and hushed her soft mouth with his own, not needing to hear the rest. She was manna from heaven to his desert famine and he pressed himself against her as much as her upright knees would allow. Anya gave a feeble whimper as her hands snaked around his neck and into his hair.
After a moment, her grip tightened painfully and she broke away to glare into his eyes. Her arms around his shoulders trembled. "If you ever lie to me again - about anything - we're done. I don't care if you don't want to hurt my feelings or you think you're protecting me or any other manly-man bullshit. I don't care how small of a lie. I am gone. We are done. Period."
Dimitri nodded, unable to deny her anything. "I promise. On my life."
"Good," Anya said and pulled him to her again. Dimitri went more than willingly, incapable of containing his soft groan when her knees parted beneath her dress to let him get closer. He could feel Anya's heart thumping against his chest and the singular thought that filled his head was that he had to have her, have this forever -
"Wait." Panting, he pulled away from Anya this time, though it nearly killed him to do it.
She frowned. "What's wrong?"
"What about your grandmother? The crown? We can't just - "
"Oh, I gave it back." She actually shrugged when she said it, like she'd just informed him it was supposed to rain this week.
Dimitri's brows shot up. "Gave it back? What do you mean? How the hell do you give back the Russian throne?"
Lips puffy from their kisses, Anya let her head fall back against the wall. "I left it in my room before I came here. Like I told you, this was the last station to search, so I knew you had to be here if you were still in the city. I sent Vlad back with a note for my grandmother and told him I'd find my way home. She knows where I am."
"And she also knows you're with me right now?"
"She's the one who told me to go and find you."
Dimitri fell back on his heels in astonishment. He widened his eyes in encouragement when she said nothing further. "Okay, and..."
"And the crown and everything that comes with it is there with her. I'm here. Nothing else to it." Anya sighed. "Look, I didn't think this out much further than making Vlad help me look for you, so..." She lifted her shoulders again, looking outdone.
Dimitri took her in, his heart filled to bursting, and had to grab her face with both hands and kiss her again.
She yipped in surprise against his lips, immediately matching his urgency as they devoured each other. Her sweetness tasted like the future and Dimitri shook down to his soul.
"Anya," he said with a gasp as he pulled back again.
"God, what?" Her heavy-lidded eyes flashed with frustration.
"Marry me. Right now."
"What?" Anya erupted with a sharp, shocked giggle. "Are you serious?"
"Very." As Dimitri's hand traced the delicate curve of her cheek, he watched her shiver. "I will never want another woman as long as I live."
He held his breath until a slow grin spread across her face and she grabbed him, peppering his face with wet smooches.
Dimitri's breathless laughter echoed throughout the room. "Is that a yes?"
"Absolutely!" Anya hooted and kissed him full on the mouth.
Dimitri didn't allow himself to wonder if this was real, if it was really happening, if the woman - the princess - who had haunted his dreams and heart for most of his life had actually just agreed to be his future.
Instead, he gathered Anya up into his arms and rose from the floor without losing contact to savor her for a while longer. When he drew back, he looked down and could see stars glittering in her eyes as she beamed up at him.
He dashed away the remnants of her tears with his thumbs and kissed the tip of her nose. "Let's get out of here." Seizing her hand, his face split with a grin as he literally ran for the door with Anya cackling as he towed her behind him.
They retrieved his suitcase and abandoned the train station for the deserted streets, neither able to keep their hands or lips off each other long enough to work out how to find a wedding officiant in the dead of night. Dimitri was scarcely aware of their wanderings, lost in a state of incredulous wonder at Anya tucked into his side as she kept step with him, her happy glow for him alone. Enrapt, he pondered the shadows formed by her perfect features as they passed under one streetlight after another. A misty rain sifted down upon them and formed droplets on her hair, her long lashes, on lips he had to stop every so often to taste again, to make sure she was truly flesh and blood and bone.
When she started to shiver from the chill, Dimitri threw his suit jacket over her shoulders and focused on the task at hand.
They stopped at an all-night cafe. Dimitri observed Anya conduct a coherent conversation with the owner, quirking an eyebrow at her nearly perfect French.
"You were holding out on me." Keeping the door ajar for her, he threw her a wry smile as they returned to the sidewalk to complete their romantic mission.
Anya's guilty blush only charmed Dimitri further. "I guess I knew more than I thought I did? Memory is funny that way." She shrugged and snickered at herself. "Anyway, he said there's usually someone on those river cruise boats who can do it."
Do it. Marry them in the eyes of God, for all eternity.
Dimitri sighed with closed eyes and held his arms out dramatically. "Pinch me."
Anya laughed. "For what?"
"I want to make sure I'm not dream - ow!" His smirking wife-to-be had punched him hard in the shoulder instead and all he could do was chuckle. Dimitri didn't think he could be the least bit upset with anything ever again.
"Be careful what you wish for." She draped his free arm over her shoulders and nuzzled his neck.
Dimitri buried his nose in her hair as they started to walk again, Anya guiding them toward the boats that floated along the Seine like waterborne chandeliers. "Touché...but there is nothing you could do to me that would make me regret this."
"We'll see how you feel after you taste my cooking," she said, making Dimitri throw his head back and shout his laughter into the quiet night.
They took their time meandering down to the closest dock on the river to await the next cruise boat's return. Anya wordlessly turned her back to Paris and clung to him, saying everything she needed to say. Dimitri could feel her lashes fluttering against his collar bone as he held her close and let his eyes drift over the placid water, the slumbering neighborhoods beyond silent and still save for the twinkling of lights on porches and in windows.
He squeezed Anya and she hummed against his skin. The fact that she'd chosen him over all that her birth entitled her to have made his chest ache. She had decided to be his, and the world lay at Dimitri's feet for the first time in his life.
He nudged her when he caught sight of a lone boat slinking their direction and Anya turned her head to look. "Here we go," she said with a wide yawn.
"Mh-hm," Dimitri said, too busy watching the approaching lights illuminate Anya's eyes and turn them translucent.
With no line to embark at such a late hour, she took Dimitri's hand when the vessel stopped and they hopped together right over the gap between boat and dock. Dimitri saw Anya pull out a small money pouch she'd had tucked beneath her belt and made her put it away. "I got it," he said, thankful he hadn't spent the last of his cash the way he'd planned.
Anya rolled her eyes but did a little curtsy for him. Chuckling, Dimitri handed over a few francs to the bleary-eyed steward leaning on the railing.
It didn't take long to find the captain, a man with a rounded belly and more hair on his face than the top of his head. When Anya told him of their plans en francais, he boomed his congratulations and, in his excitement, shook their hands in turn with both of his so hard it hurt.
He ushered them to his tiny office near the bow of the boat, rounding up a couple of members of his skeleton crew to act as witnesses. The captain caused such a commotion along the way that an elderly couple asleep in the seating area below the viewing deck got up and joined them to offer their best wishes to the new couple.
Inside the captain's workplace, Dimitri couldn't suppress the pride bubbling up in his chest as he held Anya's hand, the space around them warm and crowded despite the small number of people now standing inside.
The grinning captain had them each sign two blank marriage certificates he pulled from his large wooden desk. Dimitri watched with his heart in his throat as Anya dipped the pen in its inkwell and signed her name in her beautiful script: Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.
When she colored and handed over the pen, Dimitri's hand trembled so much he dropped the thing on the table with a fine spatter of ink on the paper.
Anya giggled into her hand and peered around his shoulder as he scrawled his signature next to hers. "Ruslanovich Tikhonov, huh?"
A deep blush staining his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, Dimitri gave the pen back to the boat captain and cast a sidelong glance at Anya. "You good with that?"
"Yep." She flashed a grin at him and his chest tightened. "Mrs. Tikhonova has a nice ring to it."
Dimitri thought so, too.
The captain called their small assembly to order and began the ceremony. Anya faced Dimitri, her warm hands cradled within both of his. Her eyes lowered there for a second and unnerved him. What if she was having second thoughts?
But she interlaced the fingers of both hands with his so they were as enmeshed as could be and grinned at him again.
Dimitri offered a closed-lipped smile in return and swallowed convulsively before turning toward the captain. He would not cry in front of all these people.
Clumsily at first because he spoke so fast, Anya translated the gist of the ceremonial words to Dimitri under her breath. All sense of time vanished. There was only here and now, Anya's gaze steady and luminous with so much love, Dimitri wondered how he'd ever lived without it.
The captain gave them leave to say their own vows if they wished, so Anya slipped back into their native tongue and said, "You can go first, if you want."
Dimitri could barely think straight. "No, you."
"I need a minute." Anya squeezed his hands.
Jesus. "Alright." Dimitri took a deep breath. He had no idea how to put into words everything he felt about the woman standing before him, eyes sparkling like precious gems. His mind went blank and he started to shake when something his mother used to say floated to his mind: "The heart always tells the truth, Dimulya."
An image of his parents standing together in a corner of the little room came unbidden, his mother dabbing away happy tears and father's chest puffed with pride for his only son.
Anya's expectant expression waited for Dimitri when he opened his eyes and let his heart do the talking for once.
"I don't really know how to tell you all the ways you've changed me. When we were just kids, you made me hopeful and brave. As an adult, you taught me to be selfless and trusting. Qualities of the kind of man I thought I could never be." Anya bit her lip, staring into him. "You are love itself, Anya, and I will spend the rest of our life together doing everything I can to be worthy of you. I love you with everything I am, kroshka."
Sniffles from the crowd peppered the ensuing silence.
Anya cleared her throat. "I don't know how I'm supposed to follow that." Dimitri could see her trembling when she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He stroked the palm of her other hand with his thumb to bring her some calm.
It must have worked because she began to speak, very softly. "I'm not really one for speeches, but if anyone deserves one, it's you. You never gave up trying to find me. You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You rescued me in every way I could be rescued. In the end, you sacrificed your own happiness to give me back my family, no strings attached. You..." she paused, her voice breaking, "you have proved you are every bit the man I'd hoped you were. You don't have to make yourself worthy; you already are."
After a pause, Anya reached out and swiped a fingertip across his cheek, smiling. "Don't cry, Dimoychka."
Dimitri coughed and blamed it on the smoke from the candles someone had scattered across the captain's desk, making her laugh.
He felt the sting of regret when the time came to exchange rings. He'd never been keen on wearing jewelry, but it was a sobering reminder that all he had to give his bride was himself.
Anya's smile never faded. "I don't need one. I never have."
Overwhelmed with gratitude and a fervent tenderness, Dimitri brought her left hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her finger where a ring should be, silently promising her he'd make sure to fill that empty space with something as perfect as she was to him.
His mouth twisted when he glanced up and he whispered, "Now who's crying?" He flicked away a trickling tear from her cheek as she had for him. Anya blushed furiously and gestured for the captain to continue.
In a voice bigger than the room, the man must have pronounced them husband and wife because Anya launched herself at Dimitri before he could blink, throwing her arms about his neck and legs around his waist and kissing him with all she had. At least, that's how it felt to Dimitri, who held on to his brand-new wife with the same quivering enthusiasm to a burst of applause from their ecstatic witnesses.
The laughing captain had to practically pry them apart. Grinning so hard his cheeks ached, Dimitri turned to accept the congratulatory handshakes of the boat's cook and security. The elderly gentleman in attendance clapped Dimitri hard on the back while Anya bent down to greet his diminutive wife, whose wrinkled face gleamed wet with tears of joy for them as she kissed Anya on both cheeks.
Their officiant added his signature after those of the witnesses to both marriage certificates, rendering them official. He put one in the desk drawer to file with the government and folded the other into an envelope that he handed to Dimitri - along with what looked like a room key with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.
Dimitri's eyes widened. Before Anya he likely could have taken the good-natured teasing in stride, but this was his wedding day, and Anya was his wife, and...he couldn't even think about that without blushing beet red to the collar of his shirt.
When their impromptu wedding party began to disperse, Dimitri and Anya headed outside, hand in hand.
Anya tucked their precious envelope in the suitcase for safekeeping and propped it against the wall nearby once they exited onto the open deck. They leaned on the railing together and looked out over the slumbering city, the waters of the Seine shining like blown glass.
Dimitri kissed the back of Anya's hand. He feared the answer to the question roiling in his chest, but masochist that he was, he had to know the truth. "Is this how you imagined your wedding day?"
Though Anya didn't look at him, the contentment lingering on her face was encouraging. "Never thought about it much, to be honest."
"But I thought all girls obsessed about that kind of stuff." Dimitri cocked his head in genuine surprise.
Anya barked a laugh. "I was too busy worrying about where my next meal was going to come from. Comrade Phlegmenkoff liked to withhold food as punishment, so I didn't eat much."
"That doesn't surprise me," Dimitri said with a smug look that quickly burned out. "But...was this okay? I mean, you could've had all the royal pomp and circumstance if -"
"Nah." Anya turned her smile on him and Dimitri felt it warm him like sun rays. "This was absolutely perfect."
"Good." Heart in his eyes, he touched his lips to her inner wrist and watched the approach of an ancient stone bridge that arched over the river. "Speaking of food, though, I think we've established we need to keep you out of the kitchen."
"Fine by me. Just know my appetite is your problem now." Anya shuffled closer so their sides were touching.
Dimitri could feel her heat like they were already naked. He reminded himself to keep breathing. "I guess your mutt is my problem now, too," he said with an exaggerated eye roll and Anya burst out laughing.
"Yes, our beloved Pooka is just as much yours as he is mine, Dimitri."
"Oh, goody. Where is he, anyway?"
"Probably wallowing in the lap of luxury with Vlad as we speak," she said, the remnants of her laughter lingering like a delicate fragrance. "He said he'd watch him for as long as I like." She rested her head on Dimitri's shoulder. "As long as we like."
"Good old Vlad." Dimitri put his arm around her and rested his chin on top of her head, the cool breeze from the water making strands of her hair tickle his nose.
For a long time, there was only the grinding of the boat engine and the churning of water, a surprisingly peaceful soundtrack to what had become the most profoundly eventful night of his life.
"Since you're apparently doing the cooking here on out," Anya said into his shirt, "what, pray tell, am I supposed to be doing?"
Dimitri chuckled. "You can wash my socks." He laughed in earnest when he caught Anya's nasty look.
"I resent that, Mr. Tikhonov." She stuck out her tongue and pushed him playfully before going back to the rail.
Snickering, Dimitri rejoined her. "I kid...you don't have to do the laundry if you don't want to."
"I want that in writing. Though I have to say," she added with her nose in the air, "I happen to be an excellent washerwoman, not to mention seamstress. I can make your socks last for years. But that's beside the point."
"Oh, I don't doubt your skills. And as a show of good faith, if you take care of the mending, I volunteer to clean the toilets."
Anya let out a loud whoop and stuck out her hand. "You have yourself a deal, sir."
Laughing once more, Dimitri shook it and pulled her into his body, feeling her sudden closeness like an electric jolt.
"I have to admit, I lied to you a little."
His heart dropped and he peered down at her. "About what?"
"As a kid, I didn't think about my wedding ceremony so much as getting to dance with my new husband."
The little-girl hope shining from her face turned Dimitri all gooey. "I think we can do something about that," he said, taking her hand and smoothly guiding her into a spin.
Anya watched him in wonder. "But we don't have any music..."
Dimitri began to hum an old song his father used to croon to him when he had nightmares as a very young child, a tune with a bittersweet melody about finding that which was lost.
His chest warmed. Between his wedding vows and this dance, he supposed his parents had shared this day with him after all.
Dimitri's flabbergasted spouse was noticeably speechless as he fell into their waltz from the Tasha with none of the angst and insecurity of that day. His steps on this deck were confident and purposeful, his hold on Anya certain now that he knew for sure he'd never lose her.
Anya tittered in delight when he lifted his arm and had her complete a perfect pirouette, the fabric of her dress billowing around her.
This was it. This was the answer to the hole in Dimitri's heart that had left him more pain than person for as long as he could remember. He'd held fast to the belief that money and the power it bought could fill it, make him whole again. Dimitri was virtually as penniless as the day he entered the world yet felt rich beyond measure, because the incredible woman in his arms was finally his.
His.
Anya's smile dimmed as their eyes met, the energy between them shifting from lighthearted playfulness to something so intense his hands around her waist began to quake.
Hers were sure as she cradled his face and drew him close, the tender meeting of their lips igniting a fire in Dimitri's bones.
She moaned happily as they clutched each other and staggered backward until Anya's back touched the wall, her hands everywhere at once. The overload of sensation after such scarcity gripped Dimitri in a curious panic because now they never had to stop. And he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to.
"Kroshka." He grasped her shoulders, his voice hoarse from the strain of trying to control himself. "Wait a minute."
Anya had no such qualms. She continued to rub her body against his, and Dimitri had to bite his tongue to keep quiet when hers found his earlobe. "Wait for what?"
Her breathless question gave him pause. God, what was he waiting for?
He kissed her forehead, letting his mouth linger there. Still the slightest bit tipsy, to be honest, he wanted to ensure he was as clearheaded as possible. He didn't want to think back on tonight and have it all be a blur.
"We need to have a toast, right?" Dimitri didn't really plan on drinking anything else, but he needed some distance for a minute. To get his head on straight.
Anya pushed him away just enough to make a face. "You're really thinking about alcohol right now? You already smell like a distillery."
"Har, har. Come on, let me go find some champagne. Tonight's special. Wouldn't be right not to have a proper toast, at least. Vlad would never let us live it down."
"Fine." Anya sighed theatrically and Dimitri shook his head at her. "Where's the room key?"
"In my pocket." He'd barely finished his sentence when Anya's hand eased into his trousers to retrieve the small brass key imprinted with the room number. Staring into his eyes with pure devilment, she let her fingers graze more than just his thigh through the fabric as she withdrew.
It took sheer will to keep from ripping her knickers off then and there.
Giggling, Anya twisted out of his hold. "Don't be too long," she said, picking up the suitcase and sashaying away to find the room.
Dimitri found his way to the bar in the eating area below deck once he recalled how to breathe and walk again. Happier than he had ever felt in his life, he was inspired to communicate in French as best he could to the drowsy bartender that he was newly married. He must have gotten his point across; the silver-haired man grinned and shook his hand before handing over a whole bottle of fancy champagne, free of charge.
Dimitri liked this married life already.
It took him a while to find the room, then another stretch of time with his hand on the knob to work up the courage to go inside. His entire universe waited for him on the other side of the peeling wood.
But he wasn't a coward, not anymore. Not ever again.
Dimitri swung open the door, every muscle and tendon itchy with anticipation.
"Hello, husband."
He stared and froze mid-step, a man stricken. His heart stuttered and skipped like a needle on a gramophone record scratched beyond all repair, missing beat after beat after beat.
Anya had released her hair from its intricate updo to cascade in thick, riotous waves down her back and over her shoulders. She stood relaxed at the foot of their neat little bed and smiled sweetly, nothing on her skin but the cool, dappled moonlight from the tiny window; nothing in her eyes but promises he fully intended to make her keep.
A brisk breeze glided in through the partially open door, sweeping across the space between them and up the sensuous length of Anya's body, tousling tendrils of her hair. She was a vision of glowing, porcelain perfection in the dim of their stateroom. Black crept around the edges of Dimitri's vision, and he realized with a giddy sort of horror if he didn't take a breath soon he was going to pass out.
"Hey." Her teeth caught the fullness of her bottom lip after her whispered greeting, a gesture that had always made Dimitri's organs vibrate with longing. "You in or out?"
Dimitri drew in a shaky breath and grinned, thinking of the first time she'd spoken those words to him in her hotel room. He was afraid then, of so many things...of her, of himself, of her ability make him feel like a decent human being when she stared at him with those haunting sapphire eyes, believing in him.
But seeing Anya, his Anya, completely bare and trusting shoved him into a realm of bravery he never knew existed.
Was he in?
Hell yes.
Fin.