Tara Pammi

Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8


Скачать книгу

      ‘I was just thinking of...’ she smiled as she said it now ‘...Roman and his wife.’

      ‘So,’ Libby asked, because she simply couldn’t resist, ‘how long have you and Roman been seeing each other?’

      ‘A few weeks...’ Anya said, and then Libby nudged her and Anya laughed again and told the truth.

      ‘He had my heart a very long time ago.’

      There were two surprises waiting for them when they got back.

      Sev and Naomi were out on the balcony and Rachel had arrived.

      ‘Rachel!’ Anya kissed her on the cheeks. ‘I was hoping to see you. I left your tickets at the box office—’ And then she broke off when she saw that Rachel was wearing a wedding ring.

      Three surprises.

      ‘What’s this?’ Anya asked, and then frowned as yet another surprise arrived and she saw that Nikolai was here.

      And wearing a wedding ring too.

      ‘You two!’ Anya said. ‘But I didn’t even know you were seeing each other.’

      ‘Well, you can talk,’ Rachel said.

      ‘But when did this happen?’

      ‘A couple of weeks ago.’ Rachel gleefully showed off her ring. ‘We’re going to be living in Belgravia and...’ she turned and smiled at Sev and Naomi ‘...we’re coming to see you in New York at the new year.’

      ‘I knew,’ Roman said.

      ‘How?’ Rachel frowned.

      ‘Nikolai did not want to speak of who he was dating and I saw Rachel sitting, waiting, on the dock when we got off his yacht.’

      ‘And you didn’t tell me?’ Anya said.

      ‘I don’t tell you everything, Anya.’ And he watched as her eyes narrowed at the tease—there were things she didn’t yet know.

      It was a wonderful catch up of friends.

      Yes, friends.

      As they chatted about Nikolai and Rachel’s secret wedding, Anya watched Libby pass little Nadia to Daniil, who held his daughter both easily and tenderly.

      She wanted this for Roman.

      And it hurt to know that it was something she could not give him.

      ‘I have to go,’ she said at four.

      It had been a lovely day but she needed to get into the right head space to perform as the firebird tonight.

      ‘Merde,’ Libby said.

      ‘Doesn’t merde mean shit in French?’ Sev asked.

      Anya laughed. ‘It is a superstition that it would be bad luck to wish a dancer good luck before a performance.’

      And then the nicest thing happened.

      ‘Oh,’ Rachel said, ‘before you go, Anya, I’ve got something for you.’

      Anya took the present and opened it with a frown and then smiled as she took out a slender glass case. Inside it was a white feather.

      ‘It’s from both my wedding dress and my favourite costume...’

      ‘Which she stole,’ Libby said.

      Anya opened the clasp and took out the feather.

      ‘It reminds me of you when you dance...’ Rachel said.

      ‘Thank you so much,’ Anya said. It really was a thoughtful gift. ‘I shall have it in my dressing-room.’

      ‘Here,’ Libby said, and there was another present, a little porcelain thing with long dangly legs that Anya recognised from the gym at Daniil’s. And, though she was sure it wasn’t the same one, she knew that this gift was something precious to Libby and Daniil and that too would sit on her dressing table.

      Naomi stood then. ‘I had no idea how superstitious you lot were about opening night but we brought you these...’

      It was a massive bag of peanut-butter cups and perhaps the sweetest of gifts. They had seen her sneaking food and had simply accepted her.

      Anya hugged her.

      Naomi didn’t know the dance world and gave a blink of surprise at the delight with which Anya received the gift.

      ‘I will keep the foil from tonight forever.’

      ‘Oh, she will,’ Roman said, and then he looked at Anya. ‘Do you want me to walk you to the theatre?’

      ‘Thank you.’

      They didn’t speak much as they walked and Anya apologised for that. ‘I need to focus now on tonight.’’

      ‘Whatever suits you,’ he said. ‘And that dress does.’

      Anya smiled. ‘It was nice, shopping with Libby.’

      They walked through warm Paris streets and through the square and, yes, she had forgiven him for marrying Celeste.

      Roman was right. She could not have had this career and their intensity back then. It had been too consuming and also Roman was right that they would have been as poor as mice and he would never have accepted being kept by her.

      But there was another reason she was quiet.

      Anya knew she could not dance well tonight with the weight of what she knew she had to reveal.

      They were at the stage door and she remembered their first kiss long ago by a stage door back home and so did he.

      ‘You were right,’ she said.

      ‘I know,’ he replied, and then smiled. ‘About what?’

      ‘Roman, I am not a prodigy. I have seen dancers younger than me rise faster. I had to work and be selfish and absorbed to get here. I didn’t fail that audition because of you. I have not been chosen for many parts since that day. Two years ago, when I made Lilac Fairy, it was by chance. Some of the critics said I was a rather large Lilac Fairy and so I regrouped. When I understudied as Firebird, I was more selfish than ever. I trained harder, I put all I had into sculpting my body for the part in case the time came when I could perform it. When Daniil and Libby saw me that first night as Firebird, it was no accident that I performed well. I had waited for my moment and planned for it, but there were consequences to that choice.’

      The perfectionist must now tell the person who mattered the most to her that, no, she was not perfect.

      And it had to be now because she could not dance with the weight of it, not even for one more night.

      ‘I can’t have children, Roman.’

      He looked deep into her eyes.

      ‘Because of my eating I have stopped menstruating. It is my own fault. I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Why are you saying sorry to me?’

      ‘Because I believe that you love me.’

      Still he did not answer.

      ‘And,’ Anya said, ‘if you do then it affects you.’

      ‘Anya—’

      ‘No,’ she interrupted him. ‘I don’t want your knee-jerk reaction. I don’t want you to tell me it does not matter when we both know that it does. I know that one day you will resent me for it.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Oh, but you shall. When I don’t eat or I practise too hard, you will remind me of the cost of that choice. I cannot bear the thought of you blaming me.’

      ‘Never.’

      ‘Please, don’t.’ She put up her hand to his face and she remembered the first time she’d done