Dmitri stands before me; a handsome devil even in the gloom and grim of the holding cell that’s covered with rust, dust and grime.
I want to blink; to close my eyes and reopen them in validation of the thought that I’ve begun to hallucinate. But his gaze latches on to mine and I cannot look away.
“Dmitri…” I whisper, my voice lost and spent.
I realize that this is the first time I’ve said his name in his presence. And I think he realizes that too because his eyes soften, and the faint sadness behind them that’s all to familiar, now deepens.
“Fiona.” He steps over to me.
I lower my gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes now that I remember how I left him standing at the alter. In my heart is a guilty feeling that shouldn’t be there, but I feel it nevertheless and it intensifies wit
