My Time in the Affair (29 page)

He kissed her, and Mischa didn't even care that he'd just insulted her. Didn't care that he'd just been walking down the street with another woman. Didn't care that they hadn't seen each other in months. Didn't care about anything, except touching him as much as possible.

“Thank god you're still feisty,” he groaned, running his tongue along her bottom lip.

He grabbed her hips, pulling her towards him as he maneuvered them to his front door. It took some fumbling, but he managed to get his keys out and the door unlocked all while keeping his lips attached to her own. Then he yanked her into an elevator that was barely big enough for the two of them and hit the button for his floor.

“I wanted to come here sooner,” she whispered, kissing along the side of his neck.

“You should've.”

“Who was that lady?”

“Next door neighbor. Don't worry, she's married.”

“She's married? Then I'm doubly worried.”

That earned her a chuckle. Tal's hands were still on her hips and he gently pushed her back, forcing them apart.

“I'm not so into married ladies anymore. Single women only,” he told her.

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm hmmm. And what about you, Ms. … Mrs. …,” he fished. She smiled at him.

“Definitely Ms. It's
Ms.
Duggard now, all the time,” she assured him.

“Thank god,” he groaned.

The elevator stopped, but there were still stairs, and he led her up them. His apartment was formerly the attic, but it had been remodeled. One bedroom, with a small kitchenette built into one wall. Seemed tiny, especially for such a big man, but he walked straight through it and right up to a large window, that she thought led to a Juliet balcony.

It led to a huge terrace – his attic apartment was actually on top of the building, and the rest of the roof was all open. He had potted plants and trees lining the sides, and some patio furniture scattered about, as well as a ridiculously huge barbecue.

“This is nice, Tal. Really nice,” she commented, glancing around the space. Then, as if on cue, the rain let up. He stepped around her and went outside.

“You think? I thought you'd like it,” he sighed, looking around as well.

“How'd you know I'd ever even see it?” she laughed at him. He turned to look at her.

“I knew. I had faith.”

Mischa had always felt so overwhelmed by Tal. From the first moment she'd met him, when he'd been “
saving
” her, to when he'd reminded her what passion was that very same night. Even in Positano, he'd completely bowled her over with his presence. With the sheer force of his spirit. She'd never quite felt worthy of him.

But maybe she finally was …

“I leave in three days,” she blurted out. He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, really.”

“Yeah. I wasted too much time, looking for you, and then trying to work up the courage to talk to you,” she went on. “So much time had passed, and you had moved – why did you move? Why did you come here?”

“They wanted me back in the field, they wanted me abroad, I had no choice. So I asked them to send me here, and had faith that you would find me.”

“You have an awful lot of faith in me.”

“Always.”

She felt like she was going to burst. He seemed so calm and collected. Like it was all a movie he'd already seen the ending to, but she had no clue what was going to happen next.

“I wish I was here longer, I wish we could catch up more. I have so much to tell you, and I want to hear everything that's -,” she began rambling again.

“Mischa,” Tal said her name in a loud, sharp voice, startling her.

“What?” she asked, watching him as he walked towards her.

“I want to hear everything you have to say,” he assured her.

“You do?”

“And we'll catch up, believe me.”

“We will?”

“Yes, because we'll have plenty of time to do it in.”

“Huh?”

“You're not going anywhere,” he informed her.

“I'm not?”

“No. You're home now. With me. Where you should have been this whole time,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her. She sniffled. Tried not to cry.

Seems like I never cry as much as I do when I'm with him.

“You want me to stay?” she asked in a small voice. He laughed and cupped her face.

“Baby, I never wanted you to leave.
Of course
I want you stay. I never want you to leave again,” he told her.

“You're not mad at me? Cause I left?” she double checked, a tear slipping out of her right eye. He playfully shook her head.

“I'm furious. It's been three months since I've had sex, woman! Three months! Do you know how long that is in man-time!? You have
a lot
to make up for,” he warned her. She laughed as well, the tears falling in earnest.

“I was so worried. So scared too much time had passed, that it had all been in my head,” she cried. “So many things. Worried you'd found someone else, or that you'd be over us.”

“Mischa, there is no one else but you, and I don't think I'll ever be over us. I told you – it's love,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. “Stay with me. I got this place for you, so you could come outside every morning and look at the place that brought us together. Where we found each other. Where we came back together.
Stay with me.
”

Not “
come find me
”, not anymore.

Now “
stay with me
”.

How could a woman, who cheated on her husband, possibly deserve that kind of happiness?

*

When Mischa had decided to hunt him down halfway across the world, she hadn't really been sure of what to expect. She certainly had never imagined she would immediately move in with Tal. Straight from her hotel to his place – he actually went and collected her stuff. She missed her flight, and she didn't even care.

At first, she'd seriously wondered if it would work between them. Their relationship had been started on lies. She had cheated on her husband. Tal had lied to her the entire time. Not good building materials. Beyond that, his apartment was almost unbearably small, around six hundred square feet.
Tiny
. She felt like she was living in a dorm room.

She learned to love it. A smaller space meant they were always together. And the screwed up beginning to their relationship actually reenforced its strength. They had already seen each other at their worst, had already shared their worst secrets with each other. They had done what was wrong. Now they knew how to do it right.

Her family came to visit. Her mother was still cold towards her, so Misch wasn't expecting much, but Tal made quick work of the ice queen. He didn't give Mrs. Duggard a chance to not like him. When they picked them up at the airport, he simply grabbed the tiny woman in a bear hug, actually lifting her off the ground. Then he let his silver tongue go to work, and by the end of the trip, Mischa was pretty sure her mom was more than a little in love with him.

And of course her father loved him. Mischa was an only child – she got the feeling that Tal was a little like the son her dad had never gotten to have. The two would sit out on the terrace for hours, talking about baseball and basketball and football. Anything with a ball. It made her happy. Two parts of her life, fitting so seamlessly together. Her dad was also fascinated by Tal's life, by his secretive job, and loved hearing all the stories.

Tal's job was still crazy. He didn't work at the Vatican for long. Soon, he was back “
in the field
”, back doing missions with Ruiz. He tried to stay in Rome as much as possible, and tried to keep his time away brief, but still, it wasn't easy. One time he came home with a bullet hole in his bicep. That had almost ended it. Mischa nearly lost her damn mind, and a screaming match to end all screaming matches broke out between them.

But oh, wow, the makeup sex had almost been worth it.

After that, they reached a compromise. If he took an out of country job, he had to take her with him. She'd gotten a job at a dance studio, and her hours were flexible, so it was easy enough for her to sneak off, and it made him think twice about what jobs he accepted. It worked out beautifully. In the eight months they'd been together, Misch got to see France, Norway, Mongolia, Nepal, and South Korea.

Though nothing compared to spending every day with him. And nothing at all to spending every night with him.

After Tal scared away the over-eager gentleman who kept trying to get Misch to go out with him – seriously, a breakfast date!? – they sat down together. She'd been waiting for him to get off work. They ordered real drinks and chatted about their days before heading out.

“How am I so lucky?” Mischa asked as they walked away from the cafe, holding hands while they strolled along. Tal smiled.

“I have the same thought, all the time. I told you, fate. What a mother fucker.”

“You're such a romantic.”

“Only the best for you. Can we go home and get naked now?”

“No, I have plans for us.”

Misch surprised him by picking up the pace, yanking him down the street.

“What are we doing? I was planning on deviant sex,” he complained, following behind her as she led the way down a side street.

“You can have that any time. Can you hear the music? There's a big festival going on,” she told him. She felt his hands slide over her hips, then he was pulling her back against him, even as they were walking.

“Any time, huh …,” he focused on the pertinent part of her statement.

A band was playing in a square, with speakers, and people were dancing and laughing. She'd been surprised to learn that Tal was actually a pretty good dancer – he'd made mention of her dancing, all the time, but had never mentioned that he had some rhythm of his own. Now every opportunity she had, she danced with him.

She always wanted to be dancing with him.

“This wasn't exactly what I had in mind for tonight,” Tal laughed an hour later, when he finally convinced her to take a break. He led her away from the crowds, over to a bench nestled in some hedges.

“What did you have in mind?” she panted, still moving her hips and feet to the beat as she stood next to him.

“Something sexier,” he replied, sitting down.

“
Pffft,
” she snorted, rolling her body, “my dancing is pretty goddamn sexy.” He yanked on her hand, pulling her into his lap.

“So, dancer lady,” he started, helping her to get comfortable on top of him.

“Yes?”

“Are you happy?”

“Exceedingly.”

“Do you know what today is?” he continued with the questions.

“Tuesday,” she replied.

“Duh. I meant,
what today is
. Like as in something special,” Tal continued. Misch scrunched up her nose, confused.

“Uh …,” she tried to think of what holiday was being celebrated. He snorted at her.

“You dork, today marks one year since the day you came to Italy,” he almost snapped at her. She sat up straighter.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Like the day we met?”

“No, like the day you got off the plane.”

Mischa thought back. Over the winter. Last summer. So many moments.

“Wow, I'd completely forgotten,” she gave a small laugh, staring off into the distance. “How'd you remember?”

“I was there,” he replied in a soft voice, then she felt him kissing her bare shoulder. She glanced down at him.

“You were?” she was surprised. After they'd decided they were going to seriously make a go at having a real relationship, they established early on that nothing was off limits, and Mischa had asked
lots
of questions. But that had never come up.

“Mmmm hmmm. I wasn't supposed to be, either, I was supposed to be making sure all the equipment at the hotel was running smoothly. But something … I don't know, something made me go see you. I'd seen your pictures. I wanted to see you in person. You walked right by me,” he explained, smoothing one of his hands over her arm. She smiled down at him.

“I didn't notice.”

“Big surprise. You have the situational awareness of a manatee.”

“Shut up.”

“I was there. I watched you. I thought to myself '
I'm going to talk to her
', so I remember that day very well. It was the day
we
started,” he finished.

“Oh please, you just wanted to get in my pants,” she teased.

“Very true. Pity I couldn't get rid of you after that.”

“Hey!”

Mischa would have given another smart-ass response, but her mouth was suddenly indisposed, mainly dealing with his tongue. He kissed her hard, and aggressively, one of his hands moving to hold the back of her head. She moaned against his lips, kissing him back.