Insignificant things.
Things I suddenly cannot imagine leaving behind.
“This union will bridge the gap between our families. You’re letting emotion interfere with judgment.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I think I’ve spent most of my life doing the opposite.”
Silence stretches between us.
His father’s expression cools further. “You are coming home tomorrow.”
Not: would you like.
Not: please.
It’s a fierce command.
The old Max would already be rearranging flights in his head, feeling that tug of duty that always got me up in the mornings.
This version of me just feels…tired.
What would Opa Vogel do?
“And if I don’t?”
His father’s eyes narrow slightly. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m asking.”
“You have obligations.”
“I know.”
“Then start acting like it.”
Avery still hasn’t come back.
And suddenly, for the first time in years, obligation feels very different from choice.
My father checks the time on his watch. “Then we leave tonight. I’ll call Danny and have him get it ready for takeoff.”
Then he looks directly at me. “Don’t embarrass yourself over a temporary distraction.”
The words land harder than they should.
Because that’s exactly what I’ve been afraid this is.
Temporary.
Wolfgang walks away before I can respond.
And for several long seconds, I stay exactly where I am, staring at the door to the bike rental place.
I don’t want to leave any of it.
36
AVERY
