There were exceptions to every rule, though, right?
Jonah hoped so, or he was destined to spend the rest of his days thoroughly confused.
We will talk soon… What did that even mean? Talk about what? As contradictory as the weekend had been, Sacha had made himself perfectly clear, and caught at the right moment, Jonah had accepted it. Mostly. Partially.
Actually, not at all, but he’d failed to figure out what that meant, so he’d left Sacha alone. Running into him at the market had been as unexpected as the gift he’d no plans of buying until he’d seen it on the hemp stall next to the coffee cart. And now here he was, eyeing up the glass pyramid that had mysteriously appeared on his desk that morning, when he had a million and one things he should’ve been doing instead.
It was lunchtime before he had a chance to venture out of his office. He didn’t stop himself sweeping the floor for Sacha. Didn’t even try. And for once, he didn’t have to search far. Sacha was hunched over Helga’s computer, frowning, as usual, his dark brows knotted, bottom lip caught in his teeth.
Why does he have to be so bloody sexy?
On cue, Sacha glanced up. Since the night of the ball, on the rare occasions they’d locked eyes across the office, it had become their habit to flit past each other as if the heat simmering between them wasn’t there. Each time hurt progressively more than the last, even when it was Jonah who blinked first, as guilty of evasion as Sacha. But he couldn’t look away now, and, neither, it seemed, could Sacha. His gold eyes blazed, and his lips turned up in a soft smile that warmed Jonah’s blood.
He took a hesitant step forward, the note Sacha had left playing on repeat: We will talk soon, I promise. “Soon” was a relative time construct. How about now?
“Mr. Gray?”
Jonah blinked. The engineer who’d finally come to fix the network issues was in his office doorway. “Sorry. What?”
“I just came to tell you I’m all done. I have some paperwork for you to sign.”
Of course he did. Sometimes, Jonah feared that his signature was the only reason he’d been put on the earth.
He flipped through the half-dozen sheets on the engineer’s clipboard, signing his name to who-the-hell-knew what. Sacha watched him, the half-smile still playing on his lips, until his phone distracted him, and his frown returned, deeper this time, as if it meant more.
Jonah frowned too, and the need to reach Sacha became abruptly more consuming. But the engineer wasn’t done with him. Paperwork became a detailed explanation of the work he’d done. Then a guided tour, and a sales pitch for a permanent maintenance contract Jonah would’ve signed a thousand times just to make the conversation end already.
By the time he was done and the engineer had left, Sacha was no longer at Helga’s desk. For reasons that made no sense, it felt like Groundhog Day—a series of tedious, predictable events that led absolutely nowhere. The day dragged on, and, of course, Sacha disappeared, taking the brief rush of hope he’d gifted Jonah with him.
As evening drew in, the office emptied out. Jonah was the last FG employee left standing. He tidied the break room for no other reason than to wait out Sacha’s appearance from the alcove in the Blutecc office. Twenty minutes later, the coffee machine had never been so clean, but his only reward was looking up in time to see Helga turning the lights off in the alcove as she left.
She was alone. Jonah intercepted her at the exit. “Where’s Sacha? Did he leave?”
Helga jumped, files slipping from her grasp and to the floor. “Shit. Sorry. Yes, he left hours ago. Didn’t you see? You two seem to have eyes on each other every time I look up.”
Jonah stooped to help gather the files. “I didn’t see. I’ve been busy. He left this afternoon? Why? He’s usually here until midnight.”
Helga cocked a perfect brow as she stood. “I don’t want to know how you know that, and I don’t know why he left. He got a phone call that upset him then he was gone.”
“A phone call? From who?
“I’m not sure, he was talking in Russian for most of it, but I think his father passed away.”
“You think?”
“Yes. I’m Norwegian. I don’t speak Russian, and he didn’t stop to fill me in before he ran out. As it happens, I was on my way to ask you for more details. I figured he was more likely to tell you than anyone in our office.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re friends.”
“No, we’re—” The denial died on Jonah’s lips. Whatever Sacha had said in the past, and whatever he’d planned to say before this, Jonah cared about him, goddammit. Whether Sacha liked it or not, they were friends. “He didn’t tell me, but I’ve been in meetings all afternoon. He wouldn’t have been able to reach me if he had to leave in a hurry.”
“You should call him,” Helga said. “I really don’t speak Russian, but I could tell he was upset.”
“He doesn’t like his father,” Jonah said absently, his phone already in his hand.
Helga sighed. “Yes, well, sometimes you reach a point where that doesn’t matter anymore. Call him, Jonah. And let me know he’s okay?”
“Of course.”
Helga left, and Jonah trailed her too slowly to hitch the same lift. He drifted to the stairs and descended, tapping out a message as he went.
Jonah: Are you okay? Helga said you got some bad news. Call me if you need anything x
He sent the message on WhatsApp. It didn’t deliver. Jonah took a car home before he tried calling, but the result was the same. Sacha’s automated voicemail kicked in without ringing. Wherever Sacha was, either his phone wasn’t connecting, or he’d turned it off.
Both options unsettled Jonah. He took a shower, ate toast for dinner, and spent the evening pacing his apartment. It was close to midnight when it occurred to him to take a walk to Sacha’s building. He was on the doorstep before he recalled he had no idea which flat was Sacha’s.
He hung around outside for a while, studying curtained windows for clues, but none were forthcoming. His gut told him Sacha would pick black linen over red velvet, but without knowing which flat the dark lined window belonged to, his instincts didn’t help. He left before someone called the police.
At home, he left Sacha a voicemail.
“Hey, so…Helga thinks your father has passed away. If that’s the case, I’m sorry. I know your relationship was difficult, but that kind of news is never easy to hear. Call me if you need anything, even if it’s a distraction. I’m here for you, Ivanov. Be safe.”
He ended the call, shaking his head. Be safe. What was that supposed to mean? And how would it sound if and when Sacha picked up the message?
Don’t think about it. Just go to bed and stop second guessing everything. He knows you’re there. That’s enough. It has to be.
Sighing, Jonah pocketed his phone and picked up the brown paper parcel he’d left on the coffee table when he’d come home from work. He unwrapped the green glass and took it to the Christmas tree in the hallway. Most years, he neglected to switch the lights on any evening when he didn’t have company, but this year, alone or not, he couldn’t think of a single evening since him and Lily had put it up that he’d forgotten.