Alistair tossed and turned in the bed. His depressed musings had been keeping him awake since Tuesday.

Aggravated, he switched on the light and flung his body out of bed. He walked to his desk in the living room to search for his phone. He turned it on and scrolled for Sophia’s and Gabriela’s photos.

A long time passed while he caressed each photo and thought about what he was going to say to her when they finally met again.

He went back to bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. His desolate thoughts got worse in the dark. He exhaled slowly, expelling all the air from his lungs.

Half an hour later, he rose again and walked back to the living room. This time he turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels for something interesting to see. He had to find a diversion.

How is it possible to feel sickness from someone’s absence? He needed her gentle touch, drawing random designs on his chest as she fell asleep. Her soft lips kissing him good night and then good morning. He needed her.

He grabbed his cell phone again and started to text.

He grimaced as two green ticks notified him that each and every one of his WhatsApp messages had been delivered and read, but no response came.

He went to bed, taking the phone with him.

I love you, Sophia. It was Alistair’s last thought before he finally closed his eyes for sleep.

* * *

“To feel lonely is to be overwhelmed by an unbearable feeling of separateness, at a very deep level. To some degree, it is a totally normal emotion, a part of growing up. Your loneliness, which has been caused by extraordinary circumstances, is somehow all your own fault. First your loss, then your lack of trust, your fear of entering another relationship and your numbness are the main causes of your feeling lonely.” Dr. Volk patiently waited for Alistair to reply.

“You’re right. I didn’t want to be tied down. I didn’t want anyone in my life again. I was more than lonely. And that’s the way I wished it to be. That’s what I deserved,” Alistair sighed. “Maybe it’s a cliché, but I felt lonely even in a crowd.”

“A cliché maybe, but it’s also painfully true. Someone who is constantly surrounded by people may still feel desperately lonely. I have many patients that seek my help for overwhelming feelings of loneliness and they have an active social life, a busy job, sometimes even a stable relationship and a family.”

“But then she appeared. As sunshine does after a storm.” Alistair’s eyes glazed with memories. “And suddenly my life wasn’t the same anymore. I tried to drag her into my long line of one-night stands. She resisted. I tried to push her away with—” He looked up at Doctor Volk and said bitterly, “I engaged her in bondage-dominant sex. Then, the next day, I assaulted her. She forgave me. She. Forgave. Me,” he repeated softly to himself looking down at his hands.

“Hmm. And that is wrong? Forgiveness?”

Alistair looked up and cleared his throat. “I don’t know. She persisted in the relationship. Finally, a few days ago, I tried to beat her with a crop.”

“And?”

Alistair told Dr. Volk how Sophia had been very determined to maintain her position and what she did to him after; how he had lost control, and for the first time since Nathalie’s death, had let a woman take charge in bed and how much he’d liked it. He told him how much he was hurting without Sophia.

“I’m glad.”

Alistair gave him a suffered look. “What for?”

“Because it shows that you are human. For once, you had a relationship that wasn’t ruled by you or your cold logic. And maybe Sophia brought it out in you. Maybe she makes you care enough to let go of Heather and your feelings of guilt. Also, I can fully understand why she left.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow.

Dr. Volk measured him with his eyes and his lips curled. “You’re not a small man. If I were a woman, I’d be scared. I wouldn’t like to be tied, handcuffed, or spanked by a man like you. She’s probably run to the end of the world.”

Run to the end of the world. Hah! Alistair willed the irritation from his face. “And what do you think I should do when I find her? I can’t live without her. And there is no doubt I’m going after her.” He stopped for a heartbeat before asking, “What should I say? What should I do?”

“Be human.” The good doctor smiled at Alistair’s frown. “Be yourself. Don’t be afraid to feel. Tell her the whole truth. That is what you want from her too, isn’t it? The truth?”

Veritas vos liberabit. Alistair laughed bitterly. “Well, Andrew, it seems it’s easier said than done.”

The doctor laughed. “Yep. But it frees.”

Alistair spoke of how he had imagined leading Sophia into a similar relationship as the one he had with Heather, but now on his terms; how each time he started trying to turn her on, he was the one turned on by something sexually naïve and common that she did; that each climax with her was better than the one before; that he was tuned to her and deep in love. And that he was sure Sophia was in love with him too, albeit he couldn’t understand why she didn’t declare her love out loud.

Finally, Alistair told Dr. Volk he was ready to be what Sophia wanted him to be.

The doctor slowly put his pencil inside his notebook, closed it and put it away on the side table. He turned to Alistair and staring into his eyes, he softly said, “Alistair, tell her all that you’ve been telling me here. The truth. The whole truth. Don’t embellish it; don’t omit or lie. And…and what is even more important. You have to start listening. Listen to what she has to tell you and listen to her silence.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Just because it is peaceful, it doesn’t mean it is still and void, as a few may think. It is insightful, powerful and full of meaning. It is when one can’t lie to oneself. You have to learn to listen to what she is not saying. Listen to her silence. And listen to yours, too.”

* * *

Being away from her had only made Alistair crave Sophia all the more. He missed the scent of her hair, the feel of her satin skin under his fingertips, the way she called his name in a low cry just before she came, the sensation of her moving underneath him, with him.

He needed to hear her voice, her laughter. He needed her back, by his side, in his bed.

He needed to know that she still wanted him. He needed to be inside her.

He needed to make love to her like he needed air to breathe.

He needed her.

Sex was his apple a day, and he needed it. He needed to show her not with words but with actions that he loved her, worshipped her, would do anything for her. That was the way he knew how to express his feelings.

But she didn’t seem to need him.

She had left him and she hadn’t answered any of his messages or calls.

I’m going mad, I’m sure. He picked up his iPhone and called Baptist. “Any news?” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice, but failed miserably.

“Mr. MacCraig, I was just about to call you. She’s just taken a flight to the end of the world,” he said, laughing.

What the fuck? Another one making fun of my desperate situation. Alistair frowned. “Huh? I don’t pay you to be funny, I pay you for information, Baptist.” Alistair heard the investigator’s reply, his spirit returned. He touched the intercom. “Change of plans, Garrick. My place, please.”

“Thank you, Baptist. Send all the information you’ve gathered by email asap,” he said and tapped the screen, answering Tavish’s call. “Aye?”

“Where are you?” Tavish asked brusquely.

“Going home. I discovered where Sophia is.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Tavish disconnected.

Alistair shrugged at the screen and immediately called MacKeenan with a long list of orders.

* * *

His doorbell rang insistently. Alistair opened his apartment door to look at his brother’s turbulent sea-green eyes.

Tavish stalked into his brother’s living room without saying a word, determination stamped on his face, and flung himself in the armchair.

He leered at his brother and said, “You look like crap, Alistair Connor.”

Alistair sighed. Two full days of no information had done nothing but make him more miserable. He knew there were huge shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He hadn’t been sleeping at all. Now, if he wasn’t mistaken, Tavish was there to lecture him about Sophia.

“Thank you, Tavish Uilleam, and good morning to you too. Is there something else you wanted to say, other than to give me an update on my looks?”

“You did it again, didn’t you?”

Tavish’s turbulent personality was diametrically opposed to his own. Alistair could see he was angry and that he was spoiling for a fight. If Alistair didn’t control himself, they would be at each other’s throats in a few minutes.

“I beg your pardon?” What did I do now?

“I was in your office when Baptist’s email came through. It flashed on your computer screen.” Tavish’s lips curled up. “You should be more careful.”

“And what did you see?” Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Just a name and the fact that I had incoming email. No one has ever broken into my computer.” He fisted his hands, irritated.

He had been estranged from Tavish ever since Heather had entered his life. After Sophia, they were beginning to get closer again, but at that exact moment Alistair’s patience was wearing thin.

Don’t go there again, Alistair Connor. He is your brother. Listen to him. Maybe he wants to tell you something important. Alistair grimaced as another thought complemented the first. Like he tried with Heather. Tavish Uilleam has good instincts. “You were telling me about my looks and Baptist.”

Tavish crossed his long legs and demanded, “I want to reread her letter.”

Alistair fished Sophia’s letter from his desk and handed it to Tavish, slouching in his armchair again. He sighed and watched Tavish glowering at the letter as he reread it. “Sophia is in Argentina.”

“I know.” He smirked and dropped the bomb without warning. “I spoke to Sophia this morning.”

“You—” He halted in the middle of his living room. “Come again?”

“I spoke to Sophia this morning,” he repeated slowly. “Around eight. She was worried about you.”

“She called you?” Alistair was open-mouthed, jealousy gripping his heart, and he whispered, “What for?”

“She was worrying about you, at four o’clock in the morning Rio time. Can you believe it? Worrying. About. You.” Tavish shook his head, as if horrified by the thought.

Tavish Uilleam, stay out of this. You think you’re the sole detainer of the truth—Stop, Alistair Connor. Just stop. He cursed under his breath. He’s right and you know it. If you’d been more like your old self, Sophia wouldn’t have run away. But she ran away because she’s also keeping secrets from me. “Call her. I want to talk to her.” He closed his eyes and breathed twice before pleading, “Please.”

“I warned you, Alistair Connor. How many times? She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t want to see you.”

Alistair clenched his hands to control his temper. When Tavish rose from his chair and leisurely walked to the windows, standing with his hands on his back, he lost it.

“Fuck, Tavish Uilleam!” He punched the arm of his seat. “How. Is. She?”

Tavish slowly turned on his heels, so slowly that Alistair wanted to punch him and break his nose again.

“Sophia is unhappy. Confused. Lonely. Hurt,” he said. “You know, the typical things one feels when betrayed by someone one loves.”

“I didn’t betray her,” Alistair was astonished at his brother’s words.

“There are many forms of betrayal, Brother.” Tavish handed the letter back to Alistair taking a last look at the creamy sheets of paper filled with Sophia’s neat and feminine handwriting. He glared at his brother. “She is brokenhearted and confused. And she thinks she betrayed you. You lied, Alistair Connor.”

Who would have guessed that Tavish and Sophia could form such a close friendship? Then a thought hit him. He wasn’t so sure it was only friendship. They have too much in common. They have lost too much, in a very similar way.

He shoved a hand into his hair and studied his brother’s face, trying to understand, to perceive any kind of desire in it. He was a master at discovering other people’s feelings, but it seemed that when it came to Sophia his senses were all jumbled. “She lied too. She equally betrayed me.”

“I’m sure, given her letter and everything we talked about, that Sophia hadn’t had the smallest inkling of what your preferences were,” said Tavish, without acknowledging his brother’s answer. He opened his wallet and took a folded sheet of paper from it. “You left her in the dark. You lied. You betrayed her. It seems Sophia and I have the same opinion about moral and ethics. And, Alistair Connor, you’re so fucking lucky,” Tavish muttered, and gave his brother the sheet of paper. “This is where Sophia is. The woman who is in love with you. Madly in love with you. If you so much as hurt a hair on her head, if you doona marry this woman and be as happy as you should have been from the beginning…I am going to break your nose so bad, you’ll always remember what you lost when you look in the mirror.”

Alistair’s lips curled up. “You are right, you know? I lied, but I’m going to make it right.”

He turned and entered his bedroom to finish packing with Tavish Uilleam at his heels.