Sun & Moon - a contemporary romance (The Minstrel Series #1) (23 page)

“I love you, too.”

They kissed tenderly and then pressed each other away, keenly aware of the audience they’d acquired. They fed each other chocolate dessert, and Micah ordered Katja a glass of her favorite red wine. She ogled her ring finger, delighting in how the candlelight reflected off the diamond.

They giggled like school children, and made plans.

“Since you’ve obviously been thinking about this,” Katja said. “Do you have a date in mind?”

“How does tomorrow sound?”

She playfully smacked his hand. “Seriously?”

He smiled crookedly. “I am serious, but, I concede it might take a little while to get a dress and all that. I’m okay with something small, unless you want big. Anything you want, Katja. Anything.”

“Small is good,” she said. She really didn’t have anyone to invite other than her family and a couple childhood friends, Renata and Maurice, of course, and the few friends she’d made since moving to Dresden.

She frowned. “Does your mother know?”

Micah reached across the table and cupped her hands with both of his. “She’s well aware. I won’t lie and say she’s delighted, but she’s coming around. At the end of the day, she just wants me to be happy. And
you
make me happy.”

And he made her happy. Extremely happy. Katja couldn’t remember a time when she felt so joyous, so giddy. One day soon she would be Frau Micah Sturm!

After dinner, she leaned against Micah as he helped her back to the car park. She wasn’t used to walking in heels, and she gladly took the opportunity to be assisted by Micah. She waved her diamond ring under the streetlamps, stopping to
ooh
and
ahh
over the gem as it sparkled in the light.

It was a short drive to their flat.

Their
flat!

It was the first time Katja had thought of the flat as anything but Micah’s. Surely it was time for his room to be their room, too. A thrill of excitement charged up her spine. Their passionate preamble to the evening had only been an appetizer.

They walked from the car toward the apartment building, hand in hand, stopping every few steps to kiss and giggle. She couldn’t peel her eyes off his face.

That was why he saw
her
before she did.

Sitting on
their
steps.

A woman with long, wavy, sandy blond hair.

All the blood drained from Katja’s head, and her legs nearly gave out. She held onto Micah’s arm for dear life.

Greta.

Greta’s eyes scanned Katja from head to toe, and then zeroed in on Micah. “I see you have a type.”

Micah’s face had lost all color, his eyes wide like he was seeing a ghost. He
was
, and so was Katja.

Greta approached, and Micah gestured to Katja without looking away from the lost girl’s face. “Wait for me inside.”

Katja didn’t want to leave him alone with her. “Micah?”

“I’ll be in in a minute.” He waved her off, but it felt like a slap in the face. Greta was there, and she was dismissed.

Her legs trembled as she went up the steps, but once inside, she slipped off her heels and raced to their flat at the top. Her hand shook as she fussed with the key to unlock the door. She ran to the living room window and looked down at the sidewalk below.

Micah and Greta stood face to face a quarter-meter apart. He threw his hands about, saying something passionately. She put palms out to calm him. Their lips moved and Katja wished desperately she could hear what they were saying.

She hoped he was telling Greta about her, how he’d moved on and fallen in love with someone else. She hoped Greta would walk away, a final goodbye, and that Micah would look for her in the window and give her an encouraging smile.

Her heart dropped when they started walking down the street, side by side.

No, wait! Where are you going?
Katja’s lungs burned as she watched, the back of Micah’s curly head and Greta’s long hair flowing down to her waist. It could’ve been Katja and Micah. The similarities between Greta and her were striking. And terrifying.

They disappeared around the corner, and Katja’s heart ripped in half. She collapsed into a chair.

They wouldn’t be gone for long, would they? Micah wouldn’t leave her waiting. Of course not. He loved her. He wanted to marry her.

Greta was my first serious girlfriend. I would’ve married her.

Micah had loved her once. He’d
slept
with her. They had a history.

Greta.

What was
she
doing here? Why wasn’t she
dead
?

Not that Katja wished anyone dead. She just didn’t want her fiancé’s ex to show up on the same night they’d agreed to be married. A low groan erupted from her belly. That woman had a way of ruining everything, and Katja hadn’t even said one word to her.

She dragged herself to Micah’s room, and tore her dress off in a huff. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and returned to the living room window, her eyes searching.

He just needed a few answers. He was in shock. She could understand that. He needed some time to process this twist of fate and sort through his emotions.

But, he’d come back to her, right? He’d remember they were celebrating the beginning of their life together and come back to her.

Where was he?

Finally, when the anguish of not knowing where he was and what he was doing became too great, she tried calling and then texting, but he didn’t respond.

The hollowness in her being was spreading. She wanted to believe in him. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Soon he’d be bounding up the stairwell, back to her.

Like it always did in moments of extreme emotion, her guitar called to her. She unclicked the case and gathered it into her arms, caressing it gently. She strummed a melancholy chord, letting the simple beauty of the music soothe her. As the minutes ticked by and then the hours, words started to come.

Don’t go now

I know it’s late and the light is growing dim

But I just like the way

You feel beside me on the front steps, not yet

Sing me one more song,

The one about the girl who finds the whole wide world

She stopped picking and put the pen down. Did she just hear footsteps in the stairwell? She waited. Nothing. The pain in her heart deepened, her sadness consuming her until she couldn’t bear it anymore. The aching, empty hurt gradually morphed into anger.

Where
was
he? She was going to kill him when he got home. Right after she knocked off his ex. She
knew
she shouldn’t have let her guard down. She
knew
she was stupid to believe a boy like Micah could love a girl like her.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And as quickly as the anger flared, it melted and the sorrow returned. Tears streamed down her face. Her sadness was thick and heavy like an entity of its own.

Don’t go now

I know it’s late and the dark is folding in

But I just like the way

Your fingers close around my hand, so grand

And sing me one more song

The one about the girl who finds the whole wide world

The black sky turned deep purple, then bruised blue. Black birds cawed as the morning dawned. She fiddled with her ring, choking back the tears. Immense pain and anger wrenched her soul. How could he do this to her? How could he so easily leave her for Greta?

Katja’s first instincts about Micah were right. He hadn’t moved on. She’d merely been a replacement for the person he really wanted, the person he thought he’d never find.

She wept hard and long until every bone and muscle hurt as much as her heart, using up all the tissues in the box. She didn’t throw them in the trash, but left the messy pile like a bitter monument for Micah to find when he finally returned. She packed up her guitar and her bag, and tossed her ring into the fruit bowl before leaving.

Katja wished she’d never met Micah Sturm.

Katja’s first impulse was to run to the coffee shop, but it wasn’t open yet. Maybe it was a good thing. Saying goodbye to Renata would be too hard. She couldn’t bear even one more gram of pain.

She kept walking, her mind in a fuzzy daze, and she hadn’t even realized where her legs had taken her until she arrived at the door of the Blue Note. She pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Of course the establishment was closed, too, this early in the morning. She collapsed on the steps and let her head fall into her hands. Her face was wet, and she wiped it with her sleeve.

Suddenly, she was exhausted. Not sleeping a wink overnight and getting your heart stomped on would do that. She rested her head against the door and closed her eyes. Within minutes she was sleeping. Her dreams were a mashup of the day: shopping with Micah, making out on his bed, his proposal. Her subconscious wanted to hold on to those memories, to hold on to Micah. Greta’s face would flash, and she’d cry out and pull back the restaurant scene so she could listen to Micah’s declaration of love once again.

But she couldn’t fight the nightmare that followed: Greta and Micah under the streetlamp, walking away. Greta glancing back and shooting her a wicked look, like a shard of glass stabbing Katja in the chest, stealing her very breath.

Her eyes snapped open.

“Katja?”

Maurice stood over her, a frown filling his round face. Katja blinked. Her mind was so busy torturing her, for a second she didn’t remember why she was sitting on Maurice’s steps.

Then she did. It wasn’t just a bad dream. The whole thing was horribly real. A new lump filled her throat, and she had to work to swallow.

Maurice reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. “What happened,
ma Cherie
?”

Katja opened her mouth but the words didn’t come. It was too painful to speak the truth of what had happened aloud.

“I’m here to say goodbye,” she finally managed.

“You’re leaving?”Maurice asked, his frown growing deeper. “But why?”

Katja worked to control her features. She must flatten out the pain. She didn’t want to blurt out what a fool she had been to anyone, but especially not to someone she respected. Besides, one word about it and she’d turn into a blubbering mess.

“It’s just time,” she said.

Maurice shifted awkwardly. “Come in for a drink first. I’m talking orange juice, though I have a feeling you really could use something stronger.”

“You’re a prophet. Add a cup of coffee and you’re on.”

Katja sat on a bar stool she’d sat on dozens of times and took in the shadowy pub with fondness. This was where she got her sea legs as an artist, where she tried out her new songs and developed confidence to keep playing. It was where she had introduced Renata to Maurice and watched their affection take root and grow. It was where she and Micah…

No, she wouldn’t think of him. She shook her head, as if that would rid him from her thoughts.

Maurice provided a glass of juice and a cup of coffee. “On the house,” he said, concern still deeply etched on his round face.

She gulped back the juice, her throat parched from weeping. “Thank you. And thanks for everything else, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like letting me play here. For believing in me.”

“That part was easy,
ma Cherie
. You’re very talented. And beautiful. And smart. As they like to say, you have the whole package.”

She grimaced. A lot of good it had done her. She finished her coffee while watching Maurice clean the bar. He didn’t pry, and she was thankful.

“Please say goodbye to Renata for me,” she said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell her yourself?” he asked gently. “She’s very fond of you.”

Katja knew Renata was already at the coffee shop but it was too close to Micah’s flat. She couldn’t risk running into him.