Sun & Moon - a contemporary romance (The Minstrel Series #1) (19 page)

Katja didn’t know how to respond to her mother. It wasn’t okay that she’d lied to her all these years. But, her mother wasn’t strong, and she did what she thought was best at the time.

Katja knew she needed to mourn this new loss, but now wasn’t the right time. She breathed deeply and pushed her hair off her face. She mustered a soft, “It’s okay.” Then she dug her phone out of her bag, surreptitiously checked the time under the table and glanced at Micah. She wanted to leave.

“I have a phone now,” she said to her mother. She took a pen and paper out of her purse and jotted down her number. “If you or Sibylle need anything, just call.”

Katja sipped the last of her tea. Micah had been right about her coming back to check in. Her mother and sister didn’t look great, but they were okay. And the fact that she had calmed her mother’s worries made the effort worthwhile.

She was about to tell her mother they were leaving when the door opened and a low baritone voice she knew well slurred, “What the hell?”

Horst stumbled into the room, and everyone automatically stiffened. Katja stood and Micah followed her lead.

“We were just leaving,” she said.

Horst narrowed his puffy, bloodshot eyes. “Katja? Is that you?”

He lumbered his heavy form toward her and Katja’s eyes widened with disbelief. He was actually going to try to embrace her? She stepped back, with palms up.

Horst’s face twisted with offense. “What? You ungrateful sow! After everything I did for you, you can’t even give your father a hug?”

“You’re not my father,” Katja said stiffly. “Never was, never will be.”

He moved to grab her—Katja wasn’t sure what he planned to do—but Micah stepped in between them. “Calm down,” he said. He stood tall with straight shoulders and a stern glare. His fists curled near his abdomen.

“Or what?” Horst said incredulously. “You come into my home and think you’re some big hot shot?”

Horst took a lazy swing, and Micah swiftly and expertly twisted his arm behind his back. Horst cried out in pain. Micah spoke clearly in his ear. “I’m leaving now with Katja. You make one wrong move and you’re on the floor, do you understand?” He wrenched Horst’s arm again, causing another yelp.

“And if you even think about touching your daughter in an inappropriate way or hurting your wife, I will send you a legion of trouble. You’ll be locked up so long you’ll never again see the light of day. Do you
understand
?”

“Yes, yes,” Horst huffed.

Micah pushed him to the sofa where he collapsed. Katja quickly hugged her mother and sister, and whispered urgently into Sibylle’s ear. “Mama has my phone number. Call me if you need me, okay?”

Sibylle’s lips trembled but she nodded.

Katja hated leaving her mother and Sibylle behind, aware of how ironic it was considering she hadn’t wanted to come to see them in the first place.

Besides fear and regret, her heart burned with another strong emotion: anger. And oddly it wasn’t directed at Horst. She was mad at Micah.

Tension filled the Audi like foam peanut packaging in a parcel marked “fragile.” Micah’s white knuckles wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed and trained on the road ahead. Katja stared out the passenger window, her arms folded over her chest and a thick lump forming in her throat.

“Are you okay?” Micah finally asked.

Katja bit her lip and shook her head once. No, she wasn’t okay.

“I think things went well, though, hey? Until that jerk showed up.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Micah’s eyes cut to Katja’s stiff form. “Done what? Take down a bully?”

She turned sharply. “You don’t get it, do you? You just made things infinitely worse.”

“What? How?”

“You humiliated him in front of his wife and daughter. He’s only going to get meaner now, to reinstate his status of patriarch.”

Micah shook his head. “No. He understands that I’d bring the law down on his head if he did anything.”

“The law doesn’t care about people like my family.” Katja pinched back tears. “Women get beaten in their own homes all the time in my world. Girls get raped, and nothing ever happens to stop it. It’s not like in your world where money talks and you can manipulate those less powerful than you with a simple threat.”

Your world. My world
. Katja held in a sob. Micah didn’t get it. He didn’t get
her.

Silence filled the space, and an invisible force pushed them further apart. Katja lowered her window, suddenly needing fresh air. The world blurred by as the Audi picked up speed. Katja glanced at the speedometer: a hundred and eighty kilometers an hour.

“Look,” Micah said through tight lips. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. Your step-dad was being a belligerent imbecile. I didn’t have a chance to think it through.” He reached for her arm and tugged until he found her hand, then threaded his fingers through hers.

“Your mother and sister were sweet. I’m glad I met them.”

Katja’s gaze moved from their joined hands to his face. Could he really mean that? Did he not see the squalor they lived in? That
she’d
grown up in? Her mother couldn’t be more different than his fashion-conscious, high-powered mother.

He came from a world of privilege and entitlement, she from poverty and neglect. He might not think it mattered now, but it would. One day it would, and then what would she do? When the day came that Micah rejected her, what would she
do?

A picture of her falling off the Augustus Bridge into the River Elbe flashed through her mind. The longer she stayed with Micah, the deeper the pain his parting would cause. Micah’s grip remained, but she let her fingers go limp.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Micah signaled and pulled sharply off the road. His dark eyes flashed with anger as he stared at her. “You’re not going to do this now.”

She turned away, pinching her eyes tight. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Later, but not yet. Her lips tightened as they trembled. “You know I’m right.”

He touched her shoulder. “Katja, look at me.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to get back, pack her things and leave.

“Katja?”

She swallowed and looked at him. The look of longing in his eyes almost killed her resolve, but she breathed in deeply and stared back with determination. “You know I’m right,” she repeated.

“I know no such thing.”

“You might not want to see it now, but one day you will.”

“One of us makes the other one feel small and cold,” he quoted.

“Like the sun and the moon,” she whispered back.

“I thought I was the moon,” he said.

“No. It’s always been me.”

Micah sighed, then turned the Audi on and merged back onto the autobahn. The ride back to Dresden was quiet, the air between them, thick.

This was it, Katja thought. The end of their romance. She should’ve known better. She should’ve guarded her heart. Micah Sturm was too good for her. She’d never end up with someone like him. Never.

They entered Dresden and drove over the narrow, bumpy cobblestone road that led to Micah’s parking place. He stroked her arm, and she stiffened. If she looked at him, even for a moment, she’d dissolve into a puddle of tears.

“I don’t want you to break up with me today,” he said. “I know you really want to, but you’re very emotional right now, and I think you should wait until you have a clear head.”

“Our circumstances aren’t going to change by waiting,” she said.

“Can you wait two days? If you still want to end things by Tuesday, I’ll accept your decision. Not happily, but I’ll respect it. I’m just asking for a two-day pause before we make anything final.”

Katja’s chest squeezed hard. Dragging this out for two days would be like removing a Band-Aid slowly and painfully, like taking out stitches from a thick scar before it was properly healed. By yourself, without the assistance of a doctor.

Micah’s eyes were soft and pleading.

“I’ll still be the moon on Tuesday,” she said.

“Maybe not,” he responded. “I’m feeling awfully small and cold right now.”

If she loved him, she could give him this one last request. And she did love him. Her eyes tightened shut. Why did she let herself fall in love with this man? Stupid, stupid girl!

“Okay,” Katja heard herself say. She needed time to find a new place anyway. Somehow she’d get through the next couple days. She felt so weak and worn, she really didn’t know how. She needed another miracle.

Katja followed Micah up the stairs to his flat, waiting while he fumbled with the key to the door and then hesitated as she pondered where to go. Staying in Micah’s room felt too intimate, even though she slept there alone. Claiming the sofa bed again meant she had nowhere to hide. The formerly locked room was empty, but it had no furniture, unless she was prepared to sleep on the floor. She was exhausted, and that thought didn’t appeal to her. She begrudgingly traipsed to Micah’s room, closing the door behind her.

She slumped on the bed and pushed her face into her pillow. Only then did she allow the tears to flow. When her heaving stopped and her waterworks had depleted, she slipped into sleep. It was early morning when she awoke with the dusty orange glow of sunrise fading out the dark windows. She was achy from sleeping in her clothes. Her mouth and face felt gross from being unwashed, and she had to go to the bathroom. She could only hope that Micah was still fast asleep and she could sneak down the hall unnoticed.

No such luck. The blue glow of the TV filled the room. Micah reclined bare chested under the covers, leaning against the back of the sofa.

He caught sight of her, and their gaze connected. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

She gulped. He looked so appealing. Her heart and mind and
body
wanted him. She was anything but hungry. “No,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”

She took her time showering. She brushed her teeth and blow-dried her hair. She kept her eyes averted when she stepped determinedly to her room. She couldn’t resist a quick look over her shoulder to the living room. The sofa bed was empty. Micah was gone. His absence underscored the loss she felt so deeply already, and a new swirl of grief consumed her.

Katja went back to bed and slept in until almost noon. She could imagine Micah sitting at the table, working on his laptop and waiting for her to wake up, but she really hoped he wasn’t. She didn’t know how to face him after yesterday, and she wasn’t up for another fight.

She needn’t have worried. If Micah had returned, he had left again. Maybe he went to church. He did that on Sundays sometimes. They managed to stay clear of each other for the entire day, and on Monday she called Renata and asked if it was possible for her to take a double shift. Fortunately, she said yes. It would keep her out of Micah’s flat for the evening, plus she’d make extra money, something she really needed now. She’d scour the papers for a new place to live. Maybe Renata knew of a place somewhere.

She feigned a smile when she entered the coffee shop on Monday morning, not wanting Renata or the other staff to see the sadness that weighed her down. She could fool the others but not her boss.

“Oh,
Schatz
,” Renata said as Katja strapped on one of the company aprons. “What happened to the happy girl who left for Berlin with her boyfriend?”

On the word
boyfriend
, Katja’s eyes grew red and dumb tears leaked out.

“Come with me,” Renata said. She guided her to the small staff room at the back. It was empty and Renata closed the door behind them. “Sit,” she said, and Katja did willingly. Her knees were watery, and her whole body felt limp like spaghetti. She had no idea how she was going to stay upright for the rest of the day.

“What happened,
Engel
?” Renata said softly. Her eyes were gentle and kind, and Katja gave into the need to bare her burdens to someone. She told her the whole story of her day in Berlin.

“Better just to end things now, even though it’s hard. It would only hurt so much more later on.”