Finally, ten days after they’d last seen each other, she gave up on LA and the indomitable cheeriness of life there, and instead returned to New York, and in particular, to the one person she could count on to meet her in her gloominess without asking questions: Dimitrios Xenakis.
“You want to stay with me?” He asked, opening the door wider, waving a hand in a gesture of welcome.
“Do you mind? My place is so…” She shook her head, unable to find a word to explain why she didn’t feel ready to go back.
“You’re always welcome,” he shrugged. “But the place is, well, as you see.”
She looked around at the clutter. Dishes piled up, clothes discarded everywhere.
“I don’t care.”
“I’m only here for another night,” he said, pouring himself a glass of scotch and mixing a martini for Cora. “But you can stay as long as you want.”
“Where are you going?”
He carried the glass towards the piano, placing it on top and sitting down, his fingers pressing to the keys without moving.
“A friend’s brother just died. I’m going to pay my respects.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Was it sudden?”
“Very. A horse riding accident.”
“That’s terrible.”
She sat in the sofa. “Play something for me.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“You want me to name a piece?”
“Or an emotion. What do you want to feel?”
“I want to feel—numb.”
Dimitrios removed his hands and reached for the scotch. “Sounds ominous. What’s going on?”
She shook her head. Of all her male relatives, Dimitrios was exactly the one to go to when you felt like this, because he was often sullen and grumpy and without reason. He would certainly not judge her for her own darkness of mood.
But she’d made Samir a promise and she wouldn’t disclose details of her relationships with him to anyone, even now it was over. She kept things vague. “Men,” she said with a lift of her shoulders.
“Plural?”
Cora sipped her martini. “No. Just one.”
“Someone special?”
“You could say that.”
“Someone you care about a lot?”
She blinked across at him.
“You’re dating?” Dimitrios frowned, finishing his drink then playing the keys lightly.
“Were. Past tense.”
“Ah. A bad break up?”