“I’ll do anything you ask,” he said. “If you want me to leave, I will. But please, please, tell me how I can make this up to you.”
“Just tell me the truth,” she said. “When you first came to speak to me, it was because you thought I could help you get the contract for the bridge?”
“Yes,” Nikolai said miserably. “But I don’t give a fuck about that bridge, I swear to you! I’ll build the whole thing just to burn it to the ground, if that’s what it takes to prove it to you!”
Nadia ignored him.
“What about that day in the restaurant,” she pressed on. “You didn’t bump into me by accident.”
“No,” Nikolai admitted, wincing. “I had Leonid keep Maxim busy at the racetrack. That’s why Maxim never met you there.”
Nadia nodded, as if she had already suspected that.
“When did it become real?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Or was it ever real at all?”
“It was real, Nadia, I promise you! I fell in love with you right from the start. I just didn’t know it at first. But within days, a week at most, I knew that I loved you more than anything. I was afraid to tell you what I’d done, in case I lost you.”
“Nik,” Nadia said, shaking her head. “That was the only way to keep me.”
“I know,” he said. “I know I don’t deserve you. I never did. I know you’re probably going back to Paris, and I can’t stop you. But will you take this at least?”
He held out the scarlet-colored egg, heavy in his hands.
“It’s not a gift to try to win you back,” he hastily assured her. “I just want you to have it. It should be yours—it was in your family to begin with. And you’re the one that loves it.”
Nadia hesitated, then reached out to take it.
He could see that she was likewise surprised by its weight in her hands.
Though she was still so angry with him, he could see the curiosity in her face. The irresistible desire to examine the egg, to open it.
“You keep it,” he urged her again. “It belongs to you.”
“Alright,” Nadia agreed, her voice low and tired. “Thank you.”
She took the egg and went back inside the house, closing the door behind her.
Nikolai stood there, staring at the smooth, dark wood, as if Nadia might magically reappear.
Then he sat down on the steps and put his head in his hands.
* * *
32
Nadia
Time discovers truth.
Seneca
Nadia sat on her mother’s bed, holding the heavy enameled egg in her lap.
For all her fascination with the Faberge eggs, she had never actually handled one before. She was enthralled by its weight and solidity, and by the intricate details of its surface.
It had so much depth and texture to the enameled whorls across its face. A hundred separate scrolls weaved and twined around the ticking mechanical clock. The clock had several complications, including the time, date, moon phase, and a perpetual calendar.
The spindle-fine black hands swept relentlessly around the cream-colored face of the clock. It had been counting the hours for a hundred years before Nadia was born, and it would probably continue to track the time long after she was dead.
