“What about the babies?”
“Oh, tons of those. It's like a baby farm at my house. Just crawling all over the place, piled one on top of the other.”
“Great, I love babies. We should totally go over there.”
“Mischa.”
“Tal.”
He sighed and finally walked back over to her. He squatted down next to her chair and took both her hands in his, pressed them together between his own. Making her pray.
“My darling little dancer, I swear to you, when the time is right, I will take you anywhere you want to go. Including my home,” he promised her. She smiled at him.
“You're only sweet cause you know I'm a sucker.”
“Totally. Now let's get out of here or get naked.”
Mischa was brushing her teeth the next morning when her cell phone lit up. She glanced at the screen, then frowned. She'd gotten an e-mail, but she didn't recognize the address. She spit out the foam, then rinsed her mouth before picking up the phone. She got into her inbox and opened the e-mail.
“Oh my god,” she mumbled, and headed back into the main room.
Tal was at the foot of the super bed, doing a ridiculous amount of push ups. He had a whole workout routine, she'd discovered. He paid homage to his body every single day, and she was very thankful for that – the man's body was amazing. But right at that moment, she didn't even notice it.
“What's up,” he grunted, not looking up as she stepped over him and sat on the bed.
“He …,” her voice trailed off, as her eyes wandered down the screen.
“I can't hear you. Are you talking?” Tal called out.
“I'm getting divorced.”
Tal stopped mid-push up. Held himself still. Then he pushed himself to his feet. Grabbed his discarded t-shirt and mopped his face and chest with it.
“I thought that had been established,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, I know. I mean, it's happening now. I just got an e-mail from a man claiming to be Mike's lawyer, saying he wants to know where to send the divorce papers,” she told him, her voice quiet.
“What address are you going to give them?”
She stayed quiet. Tal couldn't possibly understand what it felt like, though he meant well. It was the end of an era. A huge part of her life. She'd wanted it to be over, of course, but once again – nothing ever felt like how she thought it would.
“Probably the hotel,” she finally answered, clearing her throat. “Maybe the office.”
“Good. This is a good thing, Misch. It means he's been thinking things over. Eventually, he'll think his way back to you,” Tal assured her, smoothing his hand over the side of her head. She looked up at him and smiled.
“What a nice way to think of it.”
He leaned down and kissed her. It was hard and passionate, and she wondered if maybe she'd underestimated him and his understanding. This was a kiss to remind her of who she was with, and why she was leaving a different life behind.
Crazy boy, I could never forget.
Misch e-mailed the lawyer back, giving him the hotel's address. Then she went back to getting ready. Finished doing her hair and her makeup. Put on a dress and a pair of heels. Tal left with her, and as they waited for the metro, he pulled her into him. Kissed her. Made out with her. She felt stupid, thinking that at her age, but it actually made her giddy – when was the last time she'd “made out” with somebody? Forever. She loved it and gripped his t-shirt, kissing him deeper.
When her train arrived, he smacked her on the ass and squeezed it, practically shoving her into the car. She stood near the door, waving goodbye to him as they pulled away.
I can't believe this is real. How is this real? I don't deserve this … but maybe I do …
Mischa could admit she was a little star struck by Tal. He was exotic, and he was different from anyone she'd ever met. He was beautiful, with his dark eyes and thick hair, his mocha skin stretched over toned muscles. He was sexiness personified, and he was able to make her body come alive in ways she hadn't known were possible. He'd swept her off her feet, literally, and she'd never quite found the ground again.
After she got off the train, she kept daydreaming about him while she walked to work. As she started to head into her office building, she glanced up, then did a double take. She could've sworn the man driving a car down the street was Tal. She laughed at herself for seeing him everywhere. But then she kept staring, her hand stuck on the handle of the door.
No, it really was Tal. Driving a big, black car. Very similar to the car he'd had in Positano. She had assumed it was a rental. Range Rover, that's what he'd driven in Italy, and there, in shiny letters at the top of the grill, was the same name. It couldn't have been the same car. Could it?
“What are you doing?” she asked out loud, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.
She was bewildered at first, but it quickly turned to panic as the car jumped the curb and seemed to head straight for her. She shrieked and leapt out of the way, backing into an iron statue that was behind her. The car swerved, whipping around in a fish tail, and screeched to a stop alongside her.
“Get in!” Tal shouted out the open passenger window. Mischa gaped at him.
“What the fuck are you doing!?” she demanded.
“Shut the fuck up and get in the car, Misch!”
“Tell me what's going on!”
“Just do as I -,”