Six Months Later
He said to tell you he is not the man you deserve.
Like the weirdest fairy godmother ever, Ivan had appeared out of nowhere, improved every aspect of her life for the better within the space of six weeks, only to disappear without a word besides those delivered by his cousin.
Six months later, Alexei’s words were still floating around Sola’s head. Following her wherever she went. Even as she packed for her second international trip ever, and the first she’d ever taken by plane. If she was still this haunted by the love affair that had been cut unexpectedly short six months ago, she wondered what it would be like when she was actually in St. Petersburg, completing the fellowship Alexei Rustanov had arranged for her.
Sola almost pretended she wasn’t home when she heard the knock on her front door. But she couldn’t do that. One: it would be mean, and two: her car, a practical Camry, which had mysteriously appeared along with all of its papers inside the glove compartment just a couple of days after she passed her driver’s test, was parked in front of the house. Which meant Brian totally knew she was home.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” he demanded when she opened the door. Despite finally letting his hair go gray, or perhaps even because of it, Brian had been looking a lot more dapper as of late. But tonight, he looked even more silver fox than usual, dressed in the tux he usually reserved for his opera opening nights.
Sola glanced down at her shorts and t-shirt. Pretty much the official uniform of the California summer. “I thought maybe I’d skip out on tonight,” she answered. “I’ve got so much to do before I leave…”
“No, no,” Brian was saying before Sola could even continue rolling out the rest of her excuses. “Put on a black dress right now, young lady! Alexei Rustanov just donated a large sum of money to our program. So when a big donor invites us to his fundraising gala, we go.”
“But I’m not even technically a student at ValArts anymore,” she pointed out. “And I’ve only got two more days to pack for two whole years in Russia! He’s got to understand that, since he’s the one who arranged for me to get the fellowship in the first place...”
“Marisol, you’re young, so I’ll explain this to you just this once. Big donors do not understand when you decide to skip their galas so you can pack. That’s not how these things work. Now, dearest Marisol, if you’d like to have a successful career directing operas as opposed to assisting those of us who know better than to skip galas thrown by major opera donors, I suggest you get dressed as quickly as possible and put on your make-up in the car.”
Well, when he put it that way…
Sola’s real reason for not wanting to go to the gala—that anything or anyone with the Rustanov name attached to it reminded her of Ivan and therefore hurt too much—seemed rather pitiful. Especially since she hadn’t seen or heard so much as a peep from Ivan in the past six months.
What a jackhole, she thought, not for the first time.
Yes, a jackhole, that was what Ivan was. A jackhole who had saved her life twice, made sure her ex-boyfriend would never hurt her or anyone else ever again, kept the mentor she loved most in the world from destroying himself, ensured that Eddie received 24-hour care, paid for the remainder of her education, and arranged for her to finally get the American citizenship she so desperately needed to make her dreams of directing opera after college come true. Which at the end of the day made it hard for Sola to know how to feel about the Russian who’d change her life for the better, but broke her heart with his decision to utterly vanish.
But that wasn’t Brian’s fault. And she’d been to enough Friends and Family sessions at New Promises during the ninety days Brian was in Ivan-sponsored rehab to know it probably wasn’t a great idea to send him alone to a fundraiser where the champagne would flow.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
* * *
“You look beautiful tonight, Sola,” Alexei told her a little over an hour later, bringing her hand up for a kiss before introducing her to his pretty Southern wife, Eva.
She was taking Brian’s advice and paying court to the king as was his due. Sola stood in the middle of the Institute’s ballroom with Alexei and his wife, a glass of barely touched champagne in her hand. Learning to play the game of art was just as important as talent in this business, Brian had told her before nudging her toward the power couple.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel intimidated. Eva, who she’d heard about but never met before, was even prettier in person than in all the gushing blog posts she’d read about how the small town mayor and her billionaire husband had turned around their little Texas town. Yet she was the one looking at Sola as if a celebrity had walked into the room.
“So you’re the girl who got Ivan to come down from his mountain!” Eva said with a huge dazzling smile as she took Sola’s hand in both of hers. “Girl, I have been dying to meet you!”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Rustanov,” Sola answered, finding it impossible not to smile back in the face of Eva’s almost aggressive enthusiasm.
Then remembering why she’d come over in the first place, she said, “Oh, and thank you, Mr. Rustanov, for the St. Petersburg opportunity. I’m so excited!”
But Alexei only frowned. “What St. Petersburg opportunity?”
“The Alexei Rustanov Opera Fellowship?” she reminded him. “The reason I’ll be in Russia for the next two years, interning with the St. Petersburg Opera House?”
Alexei shook his head. “I’m sorry, but as talented as I am sure you are, I arranged nothing for you. You must have won that fellowship on your own merit.”
But before she could point out that the fellowship literally had his name written all over it, and that she hadn’t even applied for it, he said, “Oh, I see our director friend, Mr. Krantz. Eva, come kotenok, I would like you to meet him. I need to discuss with him a new piece the Twins have been working on.”
They were gone in a flash, leaving Sola with a number of unanswered questions.
As it turned out, quite a few of her program mates had also been invited to the gala, and she was in constant demand as they grabbed her for short conversations about summer plans. But after thirty minutes of watching both Brian and Alexei schmooze at levels she simply wasn’t capable of from afar, Sola decided to leave.
It was obvious Brian was having a much easier time than she was at this party. And Alexei and Eva were surrounded by so many other big donors and university officials, she doubted she’d be getting anywhere near them again any time soon.
Meanwhile, Sola was becoming more and more antsy by the minute. It was as if a weird, dissonant soundtrack was looping in the background of her psyche, ratcheting up her anxiety and making her feel edgy the way she did when she’d had too much caffeine. She felt like something was approaching, but she didn’t know what.
“Calling an Uber” she texted Brian. “See you tomorrow for breakfast.”
Another good thing that had come out of Brian’s stint in rehab: they’d begun sharing breakfast every morning like a real family. And more often than not, it was during this time that the old Eddie would come out to talk with them, if only for a few minutes.
Sola left, hoping Brian wouldn’t be too upset with her, only to run straight into a wall when she walked through the door.
“Leaving so soon?”
No, it wasn’t a wall…
She looked up, and then up some more, to see perhaps one of the most beautiful men she’d ever beheld in her entire life. Another Rustanov maybe? Like Ivan and his hockey player cousin, he had blond hair. He also had Ivan’s piercing blue eyes. But aside from that, the two didn’t share anything in common.
This man was dressed in a tux, and he looked so comfortable in it, Sola actually found herself wondering if he hadn’t perhaps been born in one. Also, unlike Ivan, his hair was slicked back in a stylishly coiffed look that would have easily qualified him to model in one of those we’re way classier than you designer cologne ads.
Still, there was something about this man… Something that made her breathe out the question in her heart, even though it was an impossibility.
“Ivan?”