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As far as she knew, the work on the lounge and her office was done. André had no reason to be at the studio every day anymore and that fact made her a bit sad. But he also had a full-time career—just like she did.
“I have to start getting things together. I go back in two weeks.”
Right in the middle of her and Zara’s time in the studio.
He folded his hands over his middle and closed his eyes like he could take a nap right there.
She wouldn’t mind.
Fact was, with him being in her space nearly every day for weeks, she had grown accustomed to his presence. Even on the days she’d been avoiding him, knowing he was just down the hall or around the next corner, had given her a sense of security she wasn’t looking forward to being without.
She didn’t want to bring up things from when they were together before, because what they had started that week felt so new. But she couldn’t just pretend that their lives were really all that different now.
Once the school year started, everything could change.
“Maybe we should have a scheduled date night, then,” she suggested. “I hear responsible adults do things like that.”
“That’s an idea.” He kept his eyes closed, his body relaxed and his breathing evened out.
“How about Wednesdays?” She threw a day out not knowing if that actually worked for her calendar. Just that today was Wednesday.
“I have therapy on Wednesdays. Early evening. I…” He took a breath. “I’m not the best company immediately after my appointment. I’d prefer a different day.”
He had what?
“Okay, maybe Tuesday or Thursday?” she asked but she really wanted to know more about the therapy.
How long had he been going? Who was his therapist? Shouldsheget therapy?
“Tuesdays and Thursdays I have polo with Tyrone until it starts to snow.”
“Polo? You play polo?” And yeah, she didn’t want to bring up things from before, but this seemed relevant. “I thought you hated organized sports.”
A soft laugh puffed out of him. “That’s still true. It’s urban polo. We ride bikes and use a racket ball. There’s no set field or anything. We usually meet in parking garages or empty lots.”
“I have so many questions,” she said after a beat. He laughed in response.
“Isthatwhy you’re so tan?” she asked. “Do you play this game shirtless? Can I watch? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. But can I watch?”
His laughter grew but he wasn’t answering any of her questions.
The sound of his happiness filled her heart in unexpected ways. It was one more thing about him that was different than before. Like he was finallyliving.
Maybe he shouldn’t be wasting his newfound emotional freedom on an old girlfriend.
Especially if he was investing in himself with therapy. Maybe he’d only reached for her because she’d been there. A convenience, a familiarity.
Oh God, please don’t let that be all it was.
But what if he would be better suited to another academic? Someone who didn’t tell stories at swanky events that included the words, “Steinhoff’s hairy butt.”
“I can hear you thinking,” he said, interrupting her unexpected emotional spiral.
She huffed a surprised laugh. “You cannot.”
“I can and I also know what you’re worried about.”
“Oh, do you?” She sounded disinterested but she wished he really could know her thoughts. Because maybe then he could explain them back to her in a way that would help her understand them.
