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Or maybe he would thank me later for having the strength to turn him down.
When I heard my front door shut, my knees buckled, and I slid onto my ass, drawing them close to my chest. What the fuck was my sister thinking? Did she know that’s what Karl wanted? Did she know who he was and what he was planning?
Of course, she was a tight-laced straight woman who only peripherally knew her queer brother, so it was possible she thought we were all into that sort of thing, but the sting of insult was profound.
I glanced up at the tall window looking out on the street. I swore I saw a set of black shoes pause. I wondered if it was still snowing.
“That was brutal, sweetheart.”
The sound of my neighbor’s voice added insult to injury. My eyes got hot, and I pressed my forehead to the tops of my bent knees. “Please. Not right now.”
“I wasn’t—” He stopped, and even through the wall, I heard his sigh. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”
The sincerity of those two words seemed like the only genuine thing I’d heard all evening, and I wasn’t sure why I needed that so badly. Or why it broke me. But it did.
The tears came, tiny, hitching sobs, and I realized I hadn’t cried since before I’d reached the States. Not really. Not the way I needed to. I heard the neighbor faintly over my sobs, but I didn’t focus on his words.
I just took comfort in the fact that a nameless, faceless stranger who mostly hated everything I did was there. After all was said and done and my first disastrous date after Nicolai was over…he was there.
Chapter7
Isipped my coffee and stared at Joy. She was clearly confused and uncomfortable, but after a good two minutes of silence, she didn’t crack.
“Did you know?”
She blinked, holding her mug between both hands. She was wearing fingerless gloves, and her nails were painted a sort of nude-blush. I always wondered why people bothered if they weren’t going to use some outrageous color. Why use synthetic product to mimic something natural?
“Did you know?” I repeated.
She sighed. “Know what, Jules?”
“That he was going to be a priest.” My voice was barely a whisper.
The guilt in her eyes told me everything. “You said yourself you didn’t want something long-term.”
I slapped my hand on the table, not giving much of a shit if the people around me heard. The café was fairly empty anyway. There was a blind man behind me, two tables away with a long cane in the corner. There was a woman on the phone, feeding her toddler bits of muffin to keep him quiet. And lastly, an old woman who was so tiny she looked like she could drown in her cappuccino, sat at a table near the window staring into her cup.
“I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, but I also wasn’t looking to be someone’s sex doll for the weekend!”
She looked horrified when the man behind me choked on a laugh. “Lower your voice.”
I wanted to yell just to piss her off, but I knew that was just because I was hurt she had known, and she’d done it because she thought I’d like it. I dropped my volume so only she’d be able to hear me. “Not wanting a boyfriend right away doesn’t mean I want to be used, Joy. That’s…I’ve just lived through years of that.”
The guilt settled in, and her gaze darted away before she looked back at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
It was the best I was going to get, and it was obvious she meant it. The apology wouldn’t erase the hurt, but at least she understood. “It was probably a sign I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Or it’s a sign that it’s time for you to see what it’s like dating in the real world. I know more than just Karl,” she said.
My gaze darted outside. It was three weeks until Christmas, and the streets were thick with people who knew they had only a few more weeks before they got a long stretch of time off. I never knew what that was like. In London, the holidays were the busy season. They were the season of concertos and parties and charities.
They were me playing arm candy to Nicolai’s smiling face while he swanned around every room like he was God’s gift, and all those people believed it.
“I just don’t know that I ever want to date again,” I confessed.
She looked sad at that. “You can’t quit when the first one doesn’t work out. I promise I’ll be careful next time. Look, there’s this guy who runs my Wednesday hot yoga class, and he thinks you’re hot. He saw one of your photos on my phone,” she quickly explained when I frowned. “I don’t know him that well, but he’s really hot, and he’s definitely not looking to become a priest.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the automatic no. Pulling my phone out, I glanced down and saw I had an hour before I had to be back for my first lesson of the day. I’d gotten regular sleep the night before because the neighbor had clearly taken pity on me, but I was worried he was going to make me pay for it today.
