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“Why did you ask for me?”
“Just tell me what to do to make up for what I did,” he said, stepping closer. He had the towel tied around his waist, and his wet hair was still dripping water.
I was pissed. I hadn’t planned on breaking my vow of silence so soon.
“I miss the sound of your voice,” he said, stepping closer, his hand sliding slowly to my waist and his other hand reaching up to cup my neck. “I miss you,” he whispered, brushing the drop of water from his hair that touched my nose.
“Let me take you on a date,” he suggested, and I rolled my eyes with a scoff. “What’s your ideal date?” he asked, and I was tempted to reply.
My eyes caught a small word inked on his triceps. I was lucky to see the word. I hadn’t even known he had a tattoo. It was almost hidden.
“Who is Nadia?”
Something flickered in his eyes, but he covered it up quickly.
“My wife,” he said, pulling away.
My breath ceased.
“You have a wife? And you are asking me out on a date?”
He walked past me and left the shower, and here I’d thought, we were making up. I followed behind him, not ready to drop the topic.
Was he lying? I had never heard about his marriage.
“You have to tell me something, Tristan,” I said, my voice at the cusp of yelling.
“I don’t want to talk about it. We can talk about something else,” he said, brushing his wet hair back.
“Talk about something else? You want me to say yes to a date after the bomb you just dropped on me?” I laughed.
“You don’t have to know everything, Chloe.”
“Seriously?” I said, annoyed at the way he was shutting me out.
He walked to the towel rack, changing the towel around his waist. He grabbed a smaller towel and dried his hair without saying a word. I turned to walk away, but he held me back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and pulled me closer. “I’m not ready to talk about my past,” he whispered, holding my gaze in the mirror and grasping my hand like he didn’t want to let go. “It’s not an easy topic for me,” he told me and brushed my hair back as our eyes met in the mirror.
I gave him a slight nod.
“So, what was so urgent?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice and get your attention.”
“I thought you didn’t like attention?” I asked, tilting my head to the side to look at him.
He was quiet, and I saw a small smile.
“Can I see it?” he asked, gesturing to my back. “Your scar?” he added, waiting for a reply.
Different thoughts were going through my head right now, and I was terrified of what he would say next about the scar. I turned around to look at him. I didn’t see myself ever trusting him.
“If you don’t trust me, why should I trust you?” I said and left the bathroom quickly.
I was up earlythe next day, though I had difficulty getting some sleep because of what had happened in the bathroom. After I’d left his room last night, I had gone to the dining room, and ate without him.
I was still thinking about the date that might never happen.
