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Kara thinks, her eyes staring past the windshield at some distant point.
“I could fly you over here, too.”
After an excruciatingly long pause, Kara turns back to me. “Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?”
“No. Have you?”
“Not since college. It didn’t go well, but we were young and dumb. But flying back and forth every month is a huge commitment. And my work schedule is wild. I hardly even make it home for dinner with my parents half the time I say I will. You’d fly all the way over, spend money on a hotel room because I live with my parents, and then you might not even see me because a client gained five pounds over their vacation and their dress won’t fit anymore or their pregnant wife throws up in the car on the way to a gala and they need a backup outfit. Both of which have happened before, by the way.”
“There are other options.”
“Like what?” Kara’s eyebrows draw together. “We live thousands of miles apart. Ourjobsare thousands of miles apart and very different.”
Her job is in New York, but does it have to be? “What if you could get clients here? I could introduce you to people. Nash knows all these rich, corporate types. We could help you rebuild your business. There’s the global fashion industry right across the Alps in Italy.”
Kara’s face has fallen even further. “I could just...rebuildmy business?” There’s a sharpness in her tone I don’t expect. “It would be easy for me becauseyou and Nashwouldintroduce me to people? Peter, my job is more than who I know. It’s more than just a friend asking a friend to let me play dress up with them.”
Kara folds her arms on her chest, her expression flat. “I’ve put so much into my business. New York fashion is cutthroat, and you’re asking me to start from the ground all over again? I’m not asking you to give up your family, so don’t askmeto throw away everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
Her anger hangs in the air, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, turning away from her and staring out the front of the car.
I want to open my mouth and say that that’s not what I meant. But I don’t know what Ididmean. She’s right. I have no idea what it would take for her to move her business, for her to start over.
Especially when I can’t offer that myself. The thought of leaving Switzerland, of not seeing my parents and their too-small home every week, or not spending time with my niece and nephew, helping my sister when Tom works long shifts at the hospital, or watching Sylvie build confidence and self-love...leaving my family isn’t something I can do. Not for feelings that have moved so fast they scare me.
I look at the steering wheel and swallow my hopes of seeing Kara again. “Sorry,” I say and shift back into Drive.
We don’t talk on the rest of the drive. When I pull up to the terminal, Kara jumps out. I hustle to meet her at the trunk and grab bags while she retrieves a cart.
When everything’s waiting at the curb, I touch her elbow.
“Kara, I am truly sorry.” And I am. I have never been so careless with my words as I have this morning.
Her shoulders slump, and she exhales. “I know. Thank you for apologizing.”
A car honks somewhere down the line, and I take one last risk. I step closer and put my hands on either side of her head, smoothing back the curls that have escaped her bun. I press a kiss to her forehead. “You are wonderful,” I whisper in Swiss-German.
And then I step away.
Back at my parents’house, I go right to my room and collapse onto the bed. Based on the noises coming from the kitchen, Juna and her family are up and eating. I got so little sleep last night, and I am so emotionally drained that I shut my eyes and immediately fall asleep.
When I wake up, it’s bright outside and the house is quieter. Downstairs, my sister is in the back room, reading on the couch, a steaming mug on the table beside her.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, my voice dry and croaky.
Juna glances up and smiles at me. “Morning, sunshine. Tom is at work, Papi took Grosi back to her place, and then our parents took the kids to the park. There’s an inter-sibling snowman competition.”
I grunt and turn around, heading into the kitchen. Annoyingly, Juna follows.
“Ah, back to grunting now. Kara’s gone, I assume?”
Because my head is in the fridge and Juna can’t see me nod, I say, “Yes.”
“I like her a lot.” She shifts to give me room to pull out a platter of leftovers and goes around to the other side of the counter and takes a seat, grinning because, no doubt, I’m being extra grumpy today and that always amuses her. She hands me the loaf of leftover bread when I gesture for it. “She was great with the kids, fun, has great taste in books. She’s very kind.”
“As Kara told me this weekend, often, our family has a low bar for kindness.”
Juna sobers. “I don’t know about that. I like to believe in the good in people, but sometimes the world is not a kind or easy place.”
