Going back to life as normal when I got back to St. Petersburg was difficult—but then, I hadn't expected that it would be easy. Between the jetlag and nightmares about watching Alexei slip away from me, I hardly slept for the first two weeks that I was back.

But slowly, things started to return to normal. As we slipped through fall, things got busier at the school, until I hardly had time to think about anything other than verb conjugations, proper grammatical structures, and the other mechanics of the English language. I was swamped with papers and exams, grading long into the nights with just the faint overhead light of the kitchen.

Until suddenly, I wasn't.

I expected the quiet of winter holidays to really hit me. I expected to notice the silence around the apartment, to notice that vague absence that had been haunting me for years. But instead, I mostly felt relief.

I smiled to myself as I looked around the apartment, which I had just finished decorating. I was a little late getting the holiday things up this year, but I was happy with the way everything looked. It made the place even more cozy than usual, and all I wanted was to curl up on the couch with a book and a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

I sang along softly to one of the old Christmas carols as I waited for the kettle to heat. Spending this time of year alone always made me a little heartsick, even though I knew I'd spend the actual festivities with Father and the rest of my family out in the countryside. But I was determined not to let that get to me.

I wondered what Alexei was up to, and if he decorated his place in Barcelona. I doubted it, somehow. He probably just spent the entire holiday season with his cousins. I wondered who made the holiday food for them, wondered suddenly if any of his cousins had Russian wives who had given up life in the motherland for the sunny beaches of Spain.

But I didn't need to think about Alexei now. I was only going to make myself upset.

I added a few marshmallows to my cocoa and then popped a few more of the sugary treats into my mouth…just as there was a knock at the front door. I frowned, wondering who was there. I didn't normally get visitors, and it was too late for it to be the mailman.

I opened the door slowly and was shocked to find Alexei standing there on the other side. Speak of the devil, I thought wryly.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, unable to keep the guarded tone out of my voice. I didn't step back, didn't let him in. I didn't even know how he had gotten my address, but I definitely didn't want him there. I remembered what the old apartment had been like, once it had known his presence. When he'd left, there had been a palpable void to fill, a dozen memories of him—lounging on the sofa, sitting at the table, laughing in the kitchen, curled up asleep in bed—that had triggered all my feelings for him, constantly. I couldn't go through that again.

Alexei raised an eyebrow at me. “You're not happy to see me?” he asked, as though he expected me to fall over backwards with delight at the very sight of him.

I put my hands on my hips, remembering what he had said about wanting to have some sort of silly relationship where he split his life between Barcelona and St. Petersburg. But I didn't want that.

Even if I could already imagine him in my apartment, curled up on the couch with me, both of us sharing a blanket as he read and I graded the last of the term's assignments. Even if I could already imagine him in my room, pressing me down into the mattress, making love to me between the warm, flannel sheets. Even if-

But no, I couldn't go there.

“I think it would be better for you to leave,” I told him, my voice sharp.

Alexei looked taken aback. “Yulia, I-”

“If this is about that stupid plan of yours to split time between Barcelona and here-” I started.

“Of course not,” Alexei interrupted. “You were right. It's all or nothing.” He took a deep breath and nudged the suitcase at his foot, giving me a pointed look. “Can we talk inside, maybe?” he asked.

“No,” I said stubbornly.

Alexei ran a hand back through his hair. “All right,” he said. “Yulia, I can't stop thinking about you. I mean, that's nothing new. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for over a decade now.” He gave me a rueful smile, but it faded as I continued to glare at him, keeping my arms folded across my chest so that I didn't grab him and pull him over to me. I could smell his aftershave—although I wasn't sure if that was just the memory of his scent, my mind playing tricks on me, or if he was actually close enough for me to smell. Either way, I could barely think logically as it was; I knew that as soon as we touched, I would be doomed. I would let him do whatever he wanted, whatever the consequences might be.

I had to keep my distance. I couldn't let him break my heart a third time.

“What are you doing for the holidays?” Alexei asked suddenly.

“That's none of your business,” I said cooly, even though I was already starting to think about how lonely I'd be if I sent Alexei away now.

I needed to cut this short, before I had too much of a glimpse into what life could have been like between the two of us. If things had just been…a little different. If we hadn't both been so stubborn, if we hadn't both wanted the things we wanted so badly.

I started to close the door, but Alexei snaked out a hand and caught it before I could, leaning hard against the wood.

“What do you want, Alexei?” I asked angrily. “It's not enough that you've broken my heart twice? You have to come back and toy with my emotions again?”

For a moment, Alexei looked lost, reaching out to me. But at my steely look, his hand dropped back to his side. “Of course I'm not here to hurt you again, Yulia,” he said quietly. “I was hoping that we could make things right, this time. I promised, after all.”

“What's your plan?” I snapped. “Stay with me for the holidays, charm my whole family, and then disappear again once the new year starts?”

“Of course not,” Alexei said. “I was hoping…” He swallowed hard, looking at the ground. “Is there someone else?” he asked.

“That's none of your business,” I snapped.

Alexei flinched as though I'd struck him. “Oh,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I didn't realize—I mean, I know you said you weren't going to wait for me. But no one told me…”

“You've been keeping tabs on me?” I asked bitterly. There really was no way to get him out of my life, it seemed. But I couldn't keep looking at the hurt expression on his face. He looked miserable—and suddenly, I realized that he must not be sleeping well either. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and his face was gaunt. It made the motherly instinct inside of me want to invite him in, to feed him ten dozen holiday dishes, to try to bring some warmth back into his life.

But if there was no warmth in his life, that was his own fault. Still…

“I'm not dating anyone else—yet,” I told him. “Don't jump to conclusions.”

Alexei looked relieved. “Then-”

“That doesn't mean I'm interested in you,” I interrupted. “You had your chance, Alexei. You had two chances, and you blew them."

“Third time's a charm?” Alexei tried weakly.

I tried to push the door closed again, but still, he held it open. “Please, Yulia,” he said. “Just listen.”

“I'm going to call the police,” I told him.

“I just need somewhere to stay,” Alexei blurted out. “For a few days—a year—forever. I don't know. However long you'll have me for. Please, Yulia. Please, let me come home.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “What?” I finally asked, my voice flat. Inside my head, I started counting the seconds. He had twenty seconds to explain—after that, I was calling the police.

My resolve was already wavering, though.

Alexei turned his head away. “I left Barcelona,” he said, as though that wasn't obvious. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I was supposed to fly down to the south of Spain for a few days, to schmooze with some of the guys down there. To set up another real estate deal. But the next thing I knew…” He trailed off, looking lost. “I went to the airport. And the next thing I knew, I was on a plane—but not to southern Spain. I got to Moscow yesterday and took the train up here and…” He trailed off again.

I stared blankly at him and then barked out a laugh. “Oh Alyosha,” I sighed. I ran a hand back through my hair, swallowing hard. “You know I can't let you in,” I told him.

“If you're afraid of what Evgeni will say, I've already talked to him and-”

“That's not why I can't let you stay,” I interrupted. I shook my head. “You came here on a whim. But this isn't what you really want. You chose your family, a long time ago. You chose to stay in Barcelona and set up your life there. You can't just come here on a whim, not when I know that a week from now, or a month from now, or maybe even a year from now… Eventually, you're going to leave, on that same sort of whim, and find yourself back in Barcelona with your beaches and your babes.”

“No,” Alexei said, shaking his head. He looked pleadingly at me. “You don't understand, Yulia. I've never been happy there. In fact, since I lost you the second time, I've been miserable there. Ask any of my cousins; they know. We never talked about it, but they all know.” He took in a deep, shuddering breath.

“But if you stay here…” I said quietly, allowing myself to imagine it for just one second. It took my breath away, with how badly I wanted it. “You're going to hate me—you're going to grow to resent me if your family never talks to you again.”

Alexei reached up and cupped my cheek in his palm. “I could never resent you, Yulka,” he said quietly.

I leaned into his palm, my thoughts scattered just like I had expected they would be. But I didn't complain. Alexei had clearly thought through all of it, for all that the plan itself had been a bit spontaneous. And after all, hadn't I been running through all the same scenarios in my mind over the years? If he was willing to give up his life in Barcelona, to give up his close ties with his family…

“My uncle understands,” Alexei said simply, looking deep into my eyes, letting me see the truth. “I called him when I arrived in Moscow.” He grimaced. “I must have sounded like such an idiot. He was fuming because these guys had called him and said that I just never bothered to show up to our meetings. At first, he was concerned, but when he found out I wasn't hurt or kidnapped or whatever, he got angry. Wanted to know where I was.” He took a deep breath. “So I told him. I said that I was in Moscow and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to come back to Spain.”

I shook my head. “And let me guess, he threatened to cut you off from all your accounts and said that no one from the Volkov family will ever speak to you again?” I asked bitterly.

“He understood,” Alexei said simply. He looked down at the floor. “I don't know, I feel like maybe if I had just done this years ago, then you and I could have…” He swallowed hard. “But then we wouldn't be…where we are today, I suppose.”

“Where we are today,” I said bitterly, realizing suddenly that we were still having this conversation half in the hallway. I didn't know if I dared to invite him in. But then again, he had been brave in telling his uncle that he wasn't going back to Spain any time soon. Maybe it was my turn to be brave.

I took a step back, and Alexei took a step forwards, hesitantly, into the apartment, dragging his suitcase in with him. He looked out of place in the front hall that I had tried so hard to make feel like a home—out of place, but not unwanted.

Alexei hesitated as he looked around. “You have a beautiful apartment,” he said quietly. “Very cozy.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “We,” I finally said, my voice quiet. When Alexei gave me a curious look, I cleared my throat. “We,” I repeated, stronger this time. “We have a beautiful apartment.”

An enormous smile broke out across Alexei's face, transforming him. “We,” he repeated, his voice just as reverent. Then, he pulled me into his arms, kissing me passionately.

I giggled, warmth, blossoming in my chest. Third time's a charm?, I thought. But I didn't even want to speculate, afraid that I might break the spell. Whatever the future held for us, we'd figure it out. For now, it was time to forget about the past and forget about the future—and just live here, in the present.

“Let me show you around our place,” I told Alexei.

“Starting with the bedroom, I hope,” he murmured, his hand slipping dangerously low on my back.

I just laughed and led the way.