Chapter 18
Oz woke to his phone buzzing against the side table. He fumbled in the pitch-dark hotel room to sweep it up, squinting at the text on the screen.
Downstairs @ bfast, coming?
On way he replied to Glynn, replaced his phone and rolled over to wrap his arm around Kate. She didn’t stir, her breathing quiet and even.
He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her sweet, strawberry scent. She was warm and soft in his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go back to sleep. But he told Glynn last night he’d meet him for breakfast and he couldn’t leave him waiting downstairs.
With tremendous effort he slid out of bed, stretching languidly. He yanked on shorts and a T-shirt and shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers.
He glanced at Kate’s sleeping form, then found a pen and notepad with the hotel’s logo and wrote on the blank page.
Went downstairs for breakfast, come join me! :-)
He tore off that sheet of paper, crumpled it and tossed it into the bin. Too eager.
Downstairs. See you soon.
He shook his head as that note joined its predecessor in the trash. Too unemotional.
Downstairs at breakfast w/ Glynn, will save you a seat.
Satisfied, he signed it Ö and slid it onto the table next to her side of the bed. He shoved a key card into his pocket and quietly let himself out of the room.
When Oz turned the corner into the lobby, Glynn stood by the two steps leading to the sunken dining area where breakfast was served. He looked up from his phone as Oz approached.
“Sorry, forgot to set my alarm,” Oz explained, then gave his room number to the staff member at the entrance.
Glynn mumbled something unintelligible in response and Oz looked more closely at his friend. “A little worse for wear this morning? Too much air guitar?”
“Too much wine, beer, champagne, tequila—I drank everything in sight.” Glynn scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I need so much bacon and coffee, and I need it yesterday.”
“I’m here now. You’re in a safe place. We’re going to get you through this.”
Together they walked to the end of the long buffet table. Oz loaded his plate with fresh fruit and yogurt while Glynn selected two chocolate muffins from a large basket. Eventually they came to the omelet station, where Glynn scowled at Oz’s order of egg whites with spinach and tomato, then asked for cheese, chorizo, and bacon in his.
“You’re unusually chipper this morning,” Glynn remarked as they waited for their omelets.
Oz shrugged. “I stayed off the booze last night. International friendly coming up.”
“You know you’re never going to get to the World Cup with Sweden,” Glynn grumbled, not for the first time. “You’re eligible to play for Turkey and they’re in an easier group. I don’t know why—”
“Because I’m Swedish, that’s why. Plus you can’t switch once you’ve declared.”
“Anyway.” His friend peered at him. “That’s not it. You’re happy. Like, disturbingly happy.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“You’re grinning.”
Oh shit, he was. “No, I’m not,” he disagreed, forcing his mouth into a line.
Glynn stared at him as they collected their omelets and found an empty table. His friend narrowed his eyes, then widened them in comprehension.
“Oh my God. You had sex with Kate.”
Oz froze, uncertain whether to confirm or deny. He planned to tell Glynn eventually, and frankly it took all his self-control not to shout it joyfully across the dining room, but since the three of them had to travel back to Atlanta together today, he’d planned to wait and save Kate any potential awkwardness on the journey.
“Silence implies consent, Terim. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Dammit. He couldn’t lie, but at the same time he didn’t—
Glynn snapped his fingers in triumph. “I knew it. One look at your face this morning and I fucking knew it.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Oz replied, hushed.
“Not a big deal? It took you twenty-seven years to decide and now you’re wearing a grin the size of Boston Harbor. It is a big deal, my friend, a very big deal.”
“What’s a big deal?”
Oz had sudden, sharp empathy for deer finding themselves face-to-face with oncoming headlights as he turned at the sound of Nedda’s voice.
She looked between the two of them. “What? What happened?”
They turned to each other, then back to her. She frowned, then her eyes rounded much like Glynn’s had moments earlier.
“You had sex with Kate,” she whispered, her tone harsh with incredulity.
Oz caught Glynn’s muttered curse at his side, then watched in horror as Nedda burst into tears.
Oz shoved his plate at his friend and slid his arm around Nedda’s shoulders, ushering her out of the dining room and up the steps to the back of the lobby. He found a quiet corner along the railing that looked into the restaurant and stood with his back facing out, trying to give them some degree of privacy.
“Come on, Neds, don’t do this,” he urged. She pressed her face into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, shaking his head at how quickly his morning had gone wrong.
Last night had been one of the best of his life. Kate was beautiful, skillful, and unbelievably passionate. She moved as fast or as slowly as he wanted and treated the situation sensitively without ever embarrassing him or making him feel inexperienced.
Most importantly, making love to her turned out to be more of an emotional milestone than a physical one. They connected on a level he couldn’t articulate, and which he’d never experienced before. It was so much more than friction, or pleasure. When he was inside her and their eyes met, he knew he’d never be the same. He didn’t want to be the same.
Just thinking about Kate had blood pumping to his groin and he broke away from Nedda before she got a very wrong idea.
“Tell me it’s not true,” she said, sniffing. “You were fibbing to impress Glynn. You didn’t really sleep with her.”
He exhaled, irritated. Since when was this anyone’s business but his? But Nedda was having a rough time, she was on the rebound, and he still cared about her as a friend. Telling her to get her nose out of his life and move on was the worst approach he could take.
“I did,” he confirmed.
“Last night? For the first time?”
He nodded.
Her face crumpled with fresh tears. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” he asked shortly, fighting to contain his exasperation.
“You’re not in love with her,” she insisted. When he didn’t reply she continued, “Oz, please, be serious.”
“I am serious,” he replied, and she shook her head.
“You’re not thinking,” she countered, her voice rising in volume. “We were together for two years. You slept with her after, what, a few weeks?”
“This is different, we’re—”
“Damn right it’s different,” she shot back, ignoring his gesture for her to quiet down. “As women we’re completely different. I get that she’s sweet, has a cute accent, and nice legs. She’s also probably emotionally and intellectually uncomplicated. I get that. I see the appeal. But I’m amazed that you don’t see what else I see: the complete absence of any future between you two.”
Until that second her tirade had slipped over him like a satin sheet, but it snagged on her last sentence.
“She works in private security. She gets paid on commission.” Nedda practically spat the word. “Do you really think she’s going to move to Istanbul and watch happily while you spend two glory years at Galatasaray? Or live in a flat in Gothenburg and support you through graduate school? Or has your plan changed?” she asked tartly.
It hadn’t. Same plan he’d had for almost ten years. Kate was the only new variable.
For a second he could only stare. He held her at arm’s length, his hands tight, his stomach tighter.
Having sex with Kate had been an uncharacteristic choice. He’d selected the reality of today instead of the idea of tomorrow.
He hoped it wasn’t the wrong decision.
He refocused on Nedda with fresh impatience, even more ready to move on from her. “What does any of this have to do with you?”
“Because it should have been me,” she informed him shakily. “I loved you for two years. I put in the work, traveled with you, met your parents, made time for God knows how many soccer games in between exams, essays, MCATs, interviews, everything. I earned your love. I deserved it. But instead, you tell me we’re on different paths, we don’t have enough holding us together. So spell it out for me. Where does Kate’s path join yours in a way that mine didn’t?”
It doesn’t, he realized ominously, then shoved that thought aside the same way he did whenever his doubts about Kate bubbled up to the surface.
“Look, Neds, I’m sorry it didn’t work out with…uh, with—”
“Ryan.”
“I know you guys got really serious and you thought he was going to be it. You and I broke up a long time ago—almost five years now—and we’ve both changed a lot since then. I get that when things aren’t going well it’s easy to look back on the past and think—”
“Stop.” She held up a palm. “Is this the part when you get all patronizing and tiptoe around my delicate mental state to pacify me while simultaneously telling me to fuck off? Because I’d rather skip to the end.”
He set his jaw. Apparently some things never changed. “Then I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“I know. Which is why I’m going to tell you, instead. She’s wrong for you, Oz. You were wrong to sleep with her, and you’ll be wrong every time you do it again. It won’t last—it can’t last—and you’re setting yourself up for a world of heartbreak. You made the wrong choice and you’ll regret it. And now you can’t say no one ever warned you.”
“Great seeing you, Nedda.” He stepped back to give her space to leave. “Let’s do it again sometime, preferably under different circumstances and without your unsolicited judgment on my life choices.”
She took two steps away, then glanced at him over her shoulder. He could swear he saw a flash of regret in her lovely eyes, but then her posture stiffened, her face hardened, and she stalked toward the elevator bank without another word.
He propped his forearms on the railing she’d been leaning against, tilting his face up to the ceiling. He wasn’t making a mistake with Kate. Nedda didn’t know him anymore. He wasn’t sure she’d ever known him at all. She sure as hell didn’t know him well enough to make such an unforgiving call on his relationship.
And his uncertainty about the future, his hesitation about how Kate would fit into his plan, his inflexibility about changing that plan—he’d deal with all that later. Maybe.
He closed his eyes and dropped his chin, exhaling in exhaustion. Then he opened his eyes, and instantly wished he hadn’t.
Kate and Glynn sat at a table directly below where he and Nedda had stood. The two of them stared in silence at their uneaten breakfasts, both clutching empty coffee mugs like talismans.
“Fuck my life,” he said in Swedish, pushing off the railing and starting toward the stairs into the dining room. “Fuck my fucking life.”
* * * *
“I’m not an expert, but I believe this is the point in most romantic comedies where it turns out you’ve misheard my conversation with my ex in a way that makes you decide to dump me. Am I right?”
Kate smiled tightly, wrapping her hands around her third cup of coffee. Glynn had retreated to his room after the three of them had set a record for the world’s most awkward breakfast, and now it was time for her and Oz to face the huge, Nedda-shaped elephant in the room.
“I didn’t mishear anything,” she assured him.
“No?”
She shook her head. “I heard every word loud and clear.”
He cringed. She reached across the table and gripped his wrist.
“I’m teasing. You didn’t say anything I don’t think you would’ve wanted me to hear. Nedda came off looking pretty bad, but that’s all. You’re fine.”
“Are we fine, too?”
“Definitely,” she lied. In truth, she’d never felt less fine than she did at that moment.
It was a steep, hard drop from the bubbly mood she’d woken in. She’d practically floated down to breakfast, buoyant on physical fulfillment and the high of knowing Oz had chosen her, that he’d placed her above all the other women he’d been with. She felt cherished and special and elated when she sat down across from Glynn.
Then she registered his bleak expression. And heard Nedda’s voice ringing above them, shrill and severe.
She couldn’t fault the way Oz handled what was clearly a painful conversation, the way he defended her, or the heart-stopping pause when he didn’t object to Nedda’s accusation that he was in love with her. Far more distressing was the way Nedda managed to articulate all her own reservations about their relationship. They seemed even more insurmountable spoken aloud than in her head.
Nedda was right. Their lives were different, maybe irreconcilably, and Nedda was by far the better choice. She couldn’t argue with any of that.
But she was falling for Oz. She was falling for him so hard it was difficult to imagine life without him. She wanted to fight for him—for them—but she was scared. The harder she fought, the more losing would hurt. She’d never been afraid of pain before, but the stakes had never been this high, either.
Oz sat back in his chair on the other side of the table. “This has certainly killed my good mood this morning.”
She didn’t reply, taking a sip of coffee.
He leaned forward again, propping his elbows on the table. “I don’t want you to worry about any of that shit Nedda came out with.”
“I’m not worrying.”
“You are. I can see it.”
She bit her lower lip. “It would be hard not to after hearing that.”
“She spoke from a place of complete ignorance and massive self-interest.”
“She knows you, though, and—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Let’s forget about her, okay? Let’s focus on the facts we woke up to this morning. Did you have a good time last night?”
She couldn’t stop her smile. “Of course.”
“So did I. And did last night make you feel more or less confident about our relationship?”
“More. Way more.”
“Exactly.” He laced his fingers through hers. “So ignore Nedda and her opinions. Focus on what we both know.”
“Which is?”
“That we’re happy.” His self-assured smile faltered slightly. “Aren’t we?”
She nodded, then looked away. She shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t give voice to this question, but she had to. She wanted to see his reaction and hear his response.
What if Nedda is right?
The words were perched on the tip of her tongue, ready to take flight when two boys approached their table with a man she assumed was their dad. He had one hand on each of their shoulders.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I had to ask—you’re Oz Terim, aren’t you?”
Kate sat back and finished her coffee as Oz posed for a series of photos with the two boys. By the time they finished, their interaction had drawn attention from the rest of the dining room, and more and more people were taking out their phones to snap covert, and not so covert, photos.
“I think it’s time to go,” he muttered as the man and his kids walked away. They both stood, and he led her to the elevator with a hand on the small of her back.
“I hate when people do that,” he said as soon as the elevator doors closed. “They blatantly don’t know who I am, just that I’m apparently famous enough for one person to recognize me. Then they go crazy filling up their phones with a thousand pictures of someone they can’t even identify. What are they going to do with those? Run a reverse image search to figure out how to tag their Tweeted photo of their big celeb spot? Pathetic.”
“Are you getting riled? You’re so cute when you get riled.” She flattened her hands on his chest and smiled up at him, glad to have a reason to back out from asking him whether Nedda could’ve been right. She was grateful she hadn’t asked him. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to face the answer, not yet.
Not yet.
“I’m not getting riled. I’m calmly identifying a major privacy issue,” he insisted, but his eyes softened self-effacingly.
“Gotcha. You don’t get riled.”
“Never.”
“So when we get back I can rearrange all the books on all your shelves and it won’t bother you.”
“Now that’s a question of logical organization and I think it’s totally reasonable to object to any disruption of that system.” He put his hands on her waist and pulled her in tightly.
She ground her hips against him, pleased with the erection she found. “You wouldn’t be riled if I did that.”
“Not at all.”
“You’d merely be objecting.”
“Absolutely.” He slid his hands to her rear and cupped it, pushing her up onto her toes.
“Too bad. Like I said, you’re cute when you’re riled.”
He lowered his face to hers, trailed his lips along her jawline. “For you, maybe I’ll get riled. Just this once.”
“Promises, promises,” she teased, and kissed him like the morning had never happened, like she’d never met stupid Nedda, like she had every confidence they would work for as long as both of them wanted.