“Come in and get warm, Lydia,” drawled Milan, without looking away from Evgeny.
Completely at sea, she stepped into the room. How should she feel about this? It was so far beyond her experience that she had no frame of reference to consult. But then the entire evening had been the same. Perhaps she should abandon her expectations of the world here and now.
“You should have told me,” she said haltingly. “That you were gay. Why did you ask me out if…if…”
Milan lifted his head from Evgeny’s neck and stared at Lydia, his lips quirked upwards.
“I’m not gay,” he said.
“What? Then what…?”
“Even you must have heard of bisexuality?”
What do you mean, ‘even me’?
“Of course, but…but…”
“But what?”
“It’s just something people say, isn’t it? I’ve never known anyone that actually…did.”
Milan sighed, sat up and patted the sofa next to him.
“Come and sit here,” he said, the tone so like an order that Lydia obeyed unthinkingly. She caught Evgeny’s flicker of detached amusement. It looked a lot like contempt, but she made an effort to ignore it.
Milan reached forward and poured her a glass of iced water from a jug on the nearby table. She drank gratefully, already afflicted with the fuzzy head and thick tongue of a hangover.
“Now listen, Lydia. I get the idea that you have some traditional views when it comes to relationships, am I right? Boy meets girl, they live monogamously ever after, et cetera.”
“I’m not homophobic, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“It isn’t. If I thought you were homophobic I’d never have invited you here, clear?”
“Yes. Clear. Good.”
“But am I right?”
“I suppose it’s what I’ve been brought up to believe. I’ll meet someone special, yada yada.”
“Okay. Well, I believe that there are lots of special people in this world. I don’t see the value of limiting yourself to just one.”
“You want to have your cake and eat it, you mean?” said Lydia snippily.
“Yes.” Milan smiled broadly. “I like cake. Lots of cake. I know you don’t like shopping, but what do you do, Lydia, when you see two fleeces that you like? Both so comfortable, so…fleecy. But slightly different colours.”
Evgeny giggled. Lydia pursed her lips.
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m sorry. But is there a law that forbids you buying both? Come on! Have both! Live a little! Buy two fleeces instead of one!”
“Milan!”
Evgeny was laughing outright now, pouring himself a glass of water.
“That’s a crappy analogy,” said Lydia. “I don’t commit myself to my purchases like I would to a lover.”
“Good. Because I think you should certainly be unfaithful to that fleece.”