there, making it nearly impossible for her to keep her location secret. I didn't like that. Carefully choosing her words, she said, “I think I would like a house.
Perhaps a row house?” she paused while thoughts bounced around her head and
finally settled into a coherent idea. “Not too large, please.”
“Why not?” he asked, puzzled.
She struggled to put her fear into words an utterly confident, unabused man
could understand. “It's helpful for me to know where everyone is. The more space we have, the harder it will be to keep track of all the rooms.”
“Is it so you know where not to be?” he guessed.
“Precisely,” she replied.
“You don't need that anymore, you know,” Christopher pointed out.
She nodded. He's right. And yet the fear refused to leave her.
She could feel his gaze on her profile. “All right, Katerina. Tell me what you're thinking.”
I suppose I didn't suppress my feelings well enough. She regarded the buildings in silence while she pondered her words.
He ran his fingers down her cheek, capturing her attention again. “Tell me, love. I can see you disagree. You do need that kind of control, don't you?”
His gentle touch and soft voice disarmed her. She closed her eyes and told him the truth. “Yes, I do. For now, I do. I wish I could simply turn a gear and just like that, everything changes, but I can't.”
He treated her to a rueful smile. “You're right. I'm sorry I second-guessed you. I think a modest row house would be very nice. Perhaps with a little garden;
a green space is a blessing in the city. Tomorrow, I think, we can go and look for
a suitable place to rent.”
“We?” Her eyes widened in surprise. Does he actually mean to consult me about the choice?
“Naturally. I'll be at work at the factory many days a week. You need to be comfortable in our home. Of course, I want your opinion.” He spoke as though
the answer were obvious as he slid his fingers into her hand and squeezed gently.
“Are you real, Christopher?” she asked, turning to examine his face.
He screwed his lips to the side and furrowed his brow. “What on earth do you mean?”
“You seem too good to be true,” she said simply, closing her fingers tighter
around his as though fearing he would disappear if she let him go.
Even in the shadowy interior of the cab, she could see his cheeks darken.
“I'm not. I'm just an ordinary man. Nothing at all out of the common way.” He
met her eyes. “I'm sorry to tell you this, love, but the way you grew up was nothing like normal. Your father is… evil.”
“Yes.” Knowing that and believing it are two different things, but I do know
it.
“I'm not too good to be true. I have a number of bad habits,” he admitted.
“What are they?” She looked into his eyes, curious to know what he saw as
flaws.
“I'm always late, for one thing. I'm famous for it. I also have a temper.”
A frisson of fear clenched her belly at the admission.
“Don't look at me like that; I would never hit a woman. It's a cowardly thing to do. I'm not a bully. Now, if a man makes me angry, I've settled it with my fists from time to time. Less now that I'm an adult, but in school, I got into quite a few scuffles. I've even studied pugilism since you never know when a threat might arise.” He paused, waiting for her to relax before he continued. “I curse;
probably more than I should. It upsets my mother. And I despise tobacco. I find
it so disgusting I can hardly help but object to people smoking in the same room
as me, and snuff is worse.”
Katerina grinned. “What a terrible monster you are.” She leaned over and
kissed Christopher on the cheek.
