“I’m fine, Talia.” With a soft smile, he gestures at the overstuffed chair perpendicular to the sofa, prompting me to sit with him. “It’s more than enough just to see you. It’s been too long.”
“Two and a half months,” I supply, purely for something to say. The tenderness in his expression is breaking my heart all over again, and his eyes are so dark I feel like I’m drowning if I look for too long.
He smooths a hand over his face with a helpless chuckle. “Forgive me for saying so, but nothing has made me this happy in all that time. Not even Cosmin’s wins at Spa and Monza. You’re… a treasured sight.” His smile fades, and a wrinkle of sorrow creases between his eyebrows before he looks away.
I give a comically self-deprecating glance at myself, wanting to make a joke about looking like crap, then remembering how much I’ve nagged Sherri about avoiding appearance-based comments.
“Thank you,” I say instead. “You, uh… you’re looking really well yourself.”
“Tired. But I appreciate the compliment.” He leans back. “There’s so much on which to catch up. How is the book going? And life with the family?”
“Good and good.” I chew at my lower lip. “I didn’t ask you here to chitchat, though.”
I can’t say it. I can’t say it. Maybe I should’ve waited until next spring to see him, so it would be obvious. But that’d be bad, right?
My hands tangle in my lap. “Sooooo… I’m pregnant.” I examine a chip in my peach nail polish as I listen for a reaction. Klaus has gone absolutely still. What will I see if I dare to look up?
“Oh, Talia.” There’s a brokenness in his voice, and it startles me into eye contact. He takes a deep breath as if struggling to master his emotions. “How far along?”
“Uh, two and a half months. You know, Budapest. The night we broke up.”
“How did this happen?” He rubs his face slowly with a long sigh.
I shoot a flat look at him. “I’m gonna assume that’s a rhetorical question.The usual way, obviously. I went to a drugstore the next day, but they were out of the morning-after pill. And I was very busy with work.”
Admit it, at least to yourself, I think.You were heartbroken, and a tiny part of you was somewhere between uncertain and… hopeful. Dying for a reason to quit that job and come home.
“I figured I’d deal with it back in London the next day.” I focus on the ceramic flowers on the coffee table, avoiding his eyes. “But I got waylaid with an unexpected assignment, and then it’d gottento be too long for a pill to work, so I threw caution to the wind.” I force myself to look up without seeming apologetic. “And this is what the wind blew back at me.”
“Atus.” His voice is so quiet.
I sit up, spine straight, defensive and alert as a meerkat. “We werebothcareless, and often, if that’s what you’re getting at. And to be clear: I’m not telling you about this because I expect anything.”
He studies me. “Expected or not, you’ll have everything you need or want. Surely you can’t think I’d do less? Talia, please… come here.”
Stretching to ask for my hand, he coaxes me to my feet and scoots to make room on the sofa. His fingers shift to lace more closely with mine, but I slip out of his grasp, perching sideways, drawing my legs up and hugging my knees. “This conversation isn’t an overture to get back together,” I say crisply. “I’m staying in Kentucky.”
A combination of confusion and… is itgrief?… darkens his expression. “Alexander Laskaris told me you’re returning to London next season.”
“I said I might be open to the possibility. But I’ve decided I’m staying here with my family.” It sounds strange, saying it aloud for the first time:Family.“I can tutor once I’m done with the book. Everything’s remote nowadays, so I’m not limited to local students. And ninety bucks an hour is good money.”
“Yes…” His tone is uncertain, and I’m not sure why.
“I have good support here,” I forge on, a little defensively. “Free childcare if I need it. This is a nice place to grow up. There’s—” I break off and point at one wall as if he can see the end of town. “There’s a farmhouse I’ve loved since I was a kid, and it’s for sale.Needs a lot of remodeling, but… good bones, lots of promise. And I like a challenge. A fixer-upper.”
His eyes close for a beat. I know what he must be thinking:Our relationship was a challenge, a “fixer-upper” with lots of promise.I’m half hoping he’ll say it.
Why?I ask myself.So you can disagree? Or so he can change your mind?
His expression when his eyes open is something I’ve never seen. I thought I knew all the “faces of Klaus Franke,” which are as deliberate as his clothing, wristwatches, and cuff links: the serious concentration of his team principal mask, the coy “smize” of his flirting, his stony “The matter is settled and we’ll say no more about it” face, the mocking amusement with his left eyebrow up and one corner of his lips quirked.
But something is different now; his armor is gone. Emotions dance across the stage of his beauty. I spot longing and tenderness, paired with bewilderment and fear. I know him well enough to recognize how he’s trying to camouflage it all, like someone dashing around to secure a loose tarp in storm winds.
He gives up and cradles his face again with both hands before sliding them off. “Everything I want to say right now is a risk. I don’t know what I’m allowed to feel.”
“Allowed?What are you even talking about?”
His look is bleak, his words measured. “I’m afraid of creating more distance between us through my ignorance if I say something unwise or unwelcome.”
