Page 96

I touch his cheek.

He's warm beneath my palm.

I could kiss him again. I want to kiss him so badly, but before I can decide what to do, the barista calls my name from behind the counter.

"Anneliese? Deine Bestellung!"

I turn my head, reluctant to move even that far away from him.

My order is waiting on the pickup counter. Two cups in a cardboard carrier, exactly as I requested when I placed the order earlier.

A perfectly ordinary morning. A perfectly ordinary routine.

I glance at him again.

He's looking at the carrier now. His jaw shifts, and he swallows. The movement catches my attention because his expression has changed. It's subtle, but I see it: his eyes drop, and he seems to pull something back behind them before I can quite understand what it is.

Pain.

It's there in the blue-gray of his eyes, unmistakable once I see it.

My heart twists.

He has crossed an ocean to see me, and I haven't even managed to tell him how happy I am that he's here. He's standing in front of me, trying to figure out who we are together and apart, and now he's watching me pick up two coffees for someone else.

I know he can't possibly understand what he's seeing. I know he has no reason to. Still, the thought of him standing here wondering whether I want him, whether he's made a mistake coming all this way, makes something inside me ache.

"Entschuldigung?" I call to the barista. "Could I have one more coffee, please? For him."

"Natürlich."

I set the carrier down while she prepares another cup.

Beside me, Rez says nothing. He keeps his eyes lowered, his jaw tight, and I want to take his face in my hands and make him understand that he has nothing to apologize for, nothing to be uncertain about.

I don't know how to explain any of this yet, but I know I don't want him standing here wondering whether I want him.

The barista places the third cup in the carrier. I thank her, take the coffees, and turn back to Rez.

He's still avoiding my eyes.

I reach for his hand.

His fingers close around mine, tentative for the first time since I've known him. That nearly undoes me more than seeing him did. This is the man who can look a defenseman in the eye and make him think twice about coming near the crease. The man who plays through pain, who carries himself with a confidence that borders on arrogance, who never seems to need anyone to tell him where he stands. And right now, he's waiting for me to tell him whether he belongs here.

I squeeze his hand, and softly tell him, "Come on.’

He finally looks at me. I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile, though I'm not sure my face is cooperating. My eyes still sting, and I have to swallow around the knot in my throat.

“Come on,” I tell him softly. “I want you to meet someone.”

He takes the coffee carrier from me, careful to keep it level. “Where are we going?”

“Just a little way out of town.”

“I rented a car. Let me drive.”

I look at him. There's something reassuring about the simple certainty of it, about how naturally he's already trying to take care of me.