Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Dimitri

T he 1 train rattled into Christopher Street, and I stepped off, still in my work uniform. The creases in my trousers were perfect, as always, my shoes polished to a military shine. No one else noticed such things anymore, especially young people.

I walked toward The Stonewall Inn, my hands tucked into my pockets to fend off the evening chill. A group of students cluttered the sidewalk, their faces lit up like ghosts from the glow of their phones.

Fools. Trusting fools. Didn’t they know the government watched everything? Every message, every swipe, every tap—it all left a trail. And for what? To find “love” on an app? As if love were something you could order, like pizza. I grunted under my breath. They wouldn’t have lasted a week in the world I grew up in.

The bar’s neon lights buzzed faintly as I pushed open the door. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of spilled liquor and old wood, a smell that settles into a place after decades of stories. My seat was waiting for me at the far end of the bar, just out of the way enough to avoid unnecessary conversation.

The bartender, a wiry man named Vince, nodded in my direction as I sat down. He didn’t need to ask; he knew my order by heart. A shot of Polugar vodka and a tap beer appeared in front of me a moment later.

“Thanks,” I muttered, barely looking up. Vince gave a quick nod and moved down the bar to tend to a pair of laughing twenty-something’s who were already several cocktails deep. Most people avoided me, and that suited me fine.

I cradled the vodka in my hand, staring into the glass like it might hold some kind of answer. It didn’t. It never did. I knocked it back in one swift motion, the familiar burn spreading down my throat, and followed it with a sip of beer. The noise of the bar faded into a comfortable hum.

“Dimi, darling!”

The voice was unmistakable—Nova Starr. I didn’t even need to look up to confirm it, but I did anyway. There she was, tall and radiant, wrapped in a gold sequined dress that caught the dim light like a disco ball. Her makeup was flawless, her lashes long enough to create a breeze when she blinked. Nova was loud and unapologetic, and she’d decided I was her personal project.

Before I could protest, she leaned down and kissed my cheek, probably leaving a faint smudge of lipstick behind. I wiped it off with the back of my hand, frowning.

“Do you mind?” I said, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

“Oh, honey, if I minded, I wouldn’t bother,” she grinned, sliding onto the stool next to mine. She had a knack for taking over any space she occupied, like she belonged there more than anyone else.

“Shouldn’t you be out there... I don’t know, being fabulous?” I asked, gesturing vaguely at the dance floor.

“And miss my favorite grump? Never.” Nova’s smile softened as she studied me. She wasn’t like the others who avoided me out of fear or indifference. Nova looked at me like she saw something worth understanding, and that made me profoundly uncomfortable.

“You’ll get nothing out of me,” I said, taking another sip of beer.

She rested her chin on her hand, watching me. “Oh, Dimi. You’ve got walls higher than Trump Tower, but I’m a climber. You know that.”

I shook my head, muttering under my breath in Russian, but Nova just laughed. She leaned in closer, her perfume light but insistent, like spring flowers fighting through winter frost. She swirled the straw in her drink, watching me with a patience I didn’t deserve. I avoided her gaze, focusing on the condensation running down my beer glass.

“Why do you come here, Dimi?” she asked softly.

“To drink,” I replied, as if the answer were obvious.

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. “You could drink anywhere. This place means something to you, I can tell. Spill it.”

I clenched my jaw, irritated by how easily she chipped away at my defenses. But there was no malice in her eyes, only a quiet determination. Against my better judgment, I sighed.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I muttered.

“Try me,” she said, leaning on the bar like we had all the time in the world.

I hesitated, the vodka loosening my tongue just enough for the words to slip out. “There was a club back in Leningrad,” I began. “We called it The Sanctuary.”

Her eyes lit up, her body language shifting to full attention. “Sanctuary,” she repeated, like it was some kind of magic word.

“It wasn’t like here,” I said, gesturing around the room. “No bright lights, no music loud enough to drown out your thoughts. It was... quiet. Secret. Dangerous.”

She didn’t interrupt, just nodded for me to go on.

“It never stayed in the same place for long,” I continued. “A basement one month, an abandoned warehouse the next. We had lookouts stationed on every corner, and if the militia came, they’d give us just enough warning to scatter. If you were caught...” I trailed off, the memory of cold iron handcuffs and dark interrogation rooms tightening around my chest.

“But you went anyway,” Nova breathed.

“Of course I did,” I frowned. “It was the only place we could be ourselves. Even if only for a few hours.”

She rested a hand on my arm, her long nails cool against my skin. “You’re a brave man, Dimi.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Brave? No. Foolish, maybe. Reckless.”

“Handsome,” she added, her tone so matter-of-fact it caught me off guard.

I laughed, a short, dry sound. “Now you’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re a Russian Bear. Rugged, mysterious. If I wasn’t so into men who sparkle, I’d be all over you.”

I rolled my eyes as Vince slid another shot of Polugar in front of me. I muttered my thanks and downed it in one go, letting the warmth spread through me.

Nova tapped her nails on the bar, studying me. “Tell me about him,” she said after a moment.

“Who?” I asked, though I already knew.

“Petyr,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Your one true love.”

I stared into the empty vodka glass, the image of him coming to me as vividly as if he’d just walked into the room. “Why do you want to hear about him again?” I asked.

“Because I think your story is beautiful.”

I shook my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. “It’s not a cheerful tale.”

“I know. The best ones never are,” she sighed.

For a long moment, I said nothing, the hum of the bar fading into the background. Finally, I exhaled, the words slipping out like a confession.

“Petyr had a smile like sunshine, even in the middle of a Soviet winter. He made the world feel less heavy.”

Nova rested her chin on her hand, her gaze steady. “Go on,” she said.

I did. The story poured out of me, piece by piece, until the room felt lighter and darker all at once.

Petyr worked in the same factory as me, stitching endless rows of green blankets that were shipped to every corner of the Soviet Union. The place smelled of machine oil and damp wool, and the noise of the looms was constant, a dull roar that felt like it was grinding you down, day by day.

He was married, of course. All smart men were back then. Her name was Vera—a petite woman with soft features and sharp eyes. She wasn’t just pretty; she was clever. I’m sure she knew about us, though she never said a word. She would bring him lunch sometimes, always smiling, always polite, but there was a tension in the way she looked at me. Like she was sizing me up, wondering if I was worth the risk.

Nova leaned closer, her eyes wide and eager. “What was he like?” she whispered, as if she were afraid to break the spell.

I didn’t answer at first, but then, as if summoned by her question, his image filled my mind. My lips twitched into a smile before I could stop them.

“Handsome,” I said finally. “So handsome it was almost ridiculous. Tall, strong. His laugh...you could hear it over the looms. Everyone loved him.” I paused, then added quietly, “But I loved him most of all.”

Her expression softened, and she reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled away, pretending to adjust my sleeve.

“We didn’t get much time,” I said, my voice dropping. “I lived with my family, and he lived with Vera, of course. But when we were alone...” I trailed off, feeling the heat rise in my face. “When we were alone, it was like nothing else mattered. Like the world could end, and we wouldn’t care.”

Nova sighed, her face dreamy. “That’s beautiful.”

“It was,” I admitted. For a moment, I let myself sit in the memory, the way his hands felt on my face, his breath warm against my ear.

“What happened to him?” she murmured.

The words hit me like an icy wind. My chest tightened, and I felt the shutters go up inside me. I shook my head, staring down at the bar.

“My memories are mine,” I spat. “If I share them, I lose them. And I can’t lose any more of Petyr.”

Nova opened her mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it. She nodded, her expression unreadable. Vince, ever the silent observer, slid another shot of vodka in front of me. I downed it without a word, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction.

After a moment, I let out a bitter laugh. “This generation,” I said, waving vaguely at the crowd. “They don’t know what love is. Genuine passion, genuine romance. They think it’s something you can find on a screen. Something you can swipe left or right on. Fools.”

Nova raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet.

“Everything’s like porn now,” I went on, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Blank faces, dead eyes. No feeling, no... soul. Just empty gestures. Do you know what it’s like to look into someone’s eyes and see your entire world staring back at you? They don’t.” I slammed my hand on the bar for emphasis. “They wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Nova reached out again, this time her touch landing on my arm. “You’re wrong, Dimi.”

I glanced at her, my vision a little blurry from the vodka.

“There are still people who feel that kind of love,” she said. “You just have to believe it’s out there.”

I scoffed, reaching for my beer. “Belief is for children.”

Nova rolled her eyes, her perfectly painted lips twisting into a smirk. “You’re such a dinosaur, Dimi,” she said, pulling her phone out of her glittery clutch. Her nails, painted a shocking electric blue, clicked against the screen as she tapped away.

“What are you doing?” I asked, eyeing her warily.

“I found this video online,” she said, not looking up. “While, um, researching.”

“Researching what?”

She finally met my gaze, her expression sly. “Porn, darling.”

I groaned and leaned back in my chair, waving her off. “Love isn’t porn.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, holding her phone out toward me. “But I think you should watch this, anyway.”

I stared at the screen like it might bite me. “I’m not interested.”

Nova didn’t budge, her arm stretched out like a challenge. “Oh, you’ll be interested,” she said, a knowing glint in her eye.

Sighing heavily, I took the phone, my fingers brushing against hers. The screen glowed softly in the dim light of the bar, and I hesitated before pressing play on the video.

At first, I shook my head, muttering under my breath about the absurdity of it all. But then I saw them. Two men. Bare-chested, their bodies strong and graceful as they moved together. The first, with messy dark hair and a cocky smirk, kissed the other, who was more muscular, fairer, with eyes that seemed to hold the entire world.

I frowned, leaning closer. They looked familiar, though I couldn’t place them right away. And then it hit me. Those tenants on the tenth floor. What were their names? Jack and... something. Liam. Yes, that was it. Vanessa never shut up about them.

The thought was fleeting because what held me now wasn’t recognition. It was the way they looked at each other.

Their movements were intimate, yes, but it was more than that. The way Jack’s hand lingered on Liam’s cheek, how Liam’s eyes closed, as if savoring the touch—it wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. Not in any porn video.

My chest tightened, and I felt a strange, unwelcome heat behind my eyes. It wasn’t the physicality that gripped me, though it was impossible not to notice. It was their connection. You could see it in their eyes. That look. That damn look.

It pulled me back, through years and oceans, to the nights with Petyr. To the way he would touch me, like I was something precious. The way he would kiss me, as if the world could end and he wouldn’t care as long as I was in his arms.

My hand trembled as I held the phone. “Where... where did you find this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nova shrugged, watching me carefully. “Like I said, online. It’s rare, but true love can be found there, too, you know.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of memory. “It’s not the same. This—” I gestured to the screen. “This is different.”

She smiled softly, her usual bravado replaced by something gentler. “Exactly, Dimi. That’s my point.”

I handed the phone back to her, my fingers reluctant to let go. She slid it into her clutch and placed her hand over mine. “You still believe in love, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I stared at the empty shot glass in front of me, my reflection distorted in the curved glass.

“Maybe,” I said finally, my voice rough. “Maybe love still exists.”

Nova squeezed my hand. “It does, Dimi. You just have to be open to seeing it.”