Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(111)

“And?” Luka asks.

Nikolai doesn’t blink. “And I said I believed you.”

Luka sighs exasperatedly. “You could at least look proud of me.”

“I am proud, Luk,” he says, his words coarse. And I know it’s not from his brother. He’s still fixated on other things. Okay, this has to end. I quickly plug the lights into the outlet, only half blinking on.

“Oh crap,” Katya says, her voice muffled as she crawls around the tree.

I squeeze out from behind it, being whacked by pine needles, and I hurry over to Nikolai.

Luka holds a couple blue ornaments, meeting my gaze. He gestures to his older brother. “Fix him, please.”

Nikolai glares. “I’m fine.” He growled those words.

Timo switches the song to “You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” He’s too amused by this.

“Let’s talk,” I tell Nik, grabbing his hand. I just hope I find the right things to say.

He follows me towards his bedroom, and Timo calls out in a sing-song voice, “You’ve got garlic in your soul! I wouldn’t touch you with a—”

I shut the door.

Nik sets the beer on the dresser. He waits for me to speak since I dragged him in here.

“I know you’re upset, but nothing has happened yet…” I trail off as his gaze narrows and jaw muscles twitch.

Cold sweeps me, even with hot air blowing from the vents.

After a long moment, he finally says, “It’s hard enough accepting the idea that I may lose you to your career, but now I may lose you to Shay and to the same fucking show that split apart my family.”

The connection between the original Somnio and the revival next year puts a pit in my stomach. I tread lightly over that and say, “Shay and I aren’t together.”

His shoulders lock. “It doesn’t matter, Thora. He’ll be with you, close to you, able to see you every single day. Able to hold your hand and touch your face.” He grimaces, hurt flashing at the image and puncturing me. “I don’t care if it’s friendly…The thought of him even five feet near you while I’m an ocean away…” He has to drop his gaze from me. “I am just trying to process this.”

A weight bears on my chest. “Whatever happens, just know…” And I can’t say the words. They’re stuck in my throat. They won’t come out. Say it, Thora.

He stares down at me, waiting. I always pause. And he rarely fills the silence with his own voice. He just looks so deeply into me and gives me time to find the right thing…

“I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

He tries to smile but his eyes flood instead. “Don’t love me more than your dreams, myshka. Because I love you too much to let you give them up for me.”

It feels like a snowplow has rolled over my body, fracturing every bone. “I’m going to choose the circus,” I say in a shaky voice, “but it won’t change my feelings for you.”

“You’ll always remember me then,” he says softly with a weaker smile. “I’m happy to be a chapter in your life.”

Tears fall when I blink. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Try your best at the auditions. If you don’t, you’d hate yourself for it. And I’d be disappointed in you.”

“Nik—”

“It’s okay,” he says, convincing himself. He grabs his beer. “I’m okay. We follow our passions. That’s what we’re made to do.”

I shift uneasily, having trouble responding.

He rakes a hand through his messy hair. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I nod, watching him walk tensely across the room, finishing the last of his beer.

I never thought saying I love you, out loud, for the first time would hurt so much. And strangely, I don’t want to take it back.

I know that I can still love him and choose the contract. But the reality is less sweet than it was before. Nikolai spelled it out. If I’m with him, I’m not in the circus. If I’m in the circus, I’m not with him.

Either way, I lose.





Act Forty-Five



“Thank you all for being here,” Helen says, a clipboard perched beneath her arm. Her phone buzzes and she takes a moment to read a message.

There are about a hundred wannabe artists, sitting along the blue mats as we wait for instruction. First cuts were last week, and we’re all that’s left.

Shay leans into my arm and whispers, “We have to be working on the apparatuses today.”

I nod. “You’re probably right.” We already danced—did improv acting—kind of like my first auditions for Amour. I’m happy to have at least passed that part again. I keep cracking my knuckles, a nervous habit.

I look up, half-hoping to see Nikolai sitting with the row of directors and choreographers. To give me that single nod like you’re doing well, myshka.

He’s not here. I see wrinkled foreheads as men and women try to pick the best cast for each show. So that it’ll make the most money. I can’t tell whether they look at me and see dollar signs.

I can only hope that I’m more than just background. After months of training, I know there’s nothing more I can do.