She actually found it in her heart to forgive me.
But the forgiveness is still new, and I am fully aware of this because the guilt of what I did is still so heavy.
I can’t lie to her ever again, or it will destroy how far we’ve come in rebuilding our relationship.
I guess, even if I lied to her now and said everything is fine, it doesn’t take a genius to see through it.
“Adrian,” she scolds me, pursing her lips and raising her brows.
“Dammit,” I huff. “Sorry, I’m having a shit day,” I groan.
She tilts her head to the side, studying my face. “Is this about someonein particular?” she asks, narrowing her gaze.
“It could be about anything. You can make assumptions that it’s narrowed down to one person,” I huff, walking away from her, heading into the living room. “It could be something and not someone,” I say defensively.
Anka laughs, a quiet little laugh from behind me.
“It’s about her, isn’t it?” she asks, following me into the living room. She has a cheeky told-you-so tone in her voice. A little know-it-all taunt.
I pour a whisky to buy myself time to think about my answer. “Want one?” I ask.
“No thanks, I just had a coffee. But come on, spill the beans. Tell me what’s really going on,” she pushes. “Am I right? Is it about her?”
I flop onto the sofa with my drink, and she sits nearby, turning her body to face me.
“Come on, Adrian, very few things can get you into such a grumpy mood.”
“I know, I know. It’s just… I don’t know…I was…I wanted to….”
“Youlikeher, don’t you!” she says excitedly. “You like her, and you don’t know what to do about it,” she blurts out.
I clench my jaw and roll my eyes. “Yeah. I like her and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Well, have you spoken to her? Does she know?”
“Not…. exactly. We kissed. But… look, she doesn’tknowme. I can’t force things to happen between us. I’m going a little crazy, though, because I can’t stop thinking about her, and I think that kissing her made things worse because she doesn’t really want anything to do with me now,” I sigh.
“That’s probably just your mind toying with you. Maybe the kiss overwhelmed her or something. Maybe she is nervous about how she feels, too, and doesn’t know how to talk to you about it?” Anka asks. “You can be quite daunting to approach when it comes to sensitive topics,” she says.
“I’m not daunting!” I disagree.
“You're kind of. If she likes you and doesn’t know you feel the same way, she might be terrified to say so,” she suggests.
The idea gives me the smallest bit of hope. It’s possible. But then I think about the horror on her face just before she bolted from the shooting range.
“I don’t know,” I shrug.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Give her space. I reckon that if I give her time, she’ll let me know what she actually wants. Whether it’s with words or how she acts toward me, I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out,” I grumble.
“You’re letting her decide?” My sister sounds surprised.
“Yes. I don’t want to go tell her I like her when she is in a position where she needs a place to stay and needs protection from her father… then maybe she says she likes me too, only because she feels obliged to say it.” I talk, letting my thoughts all spill out. I’ve tried to think of this from every angle. Every reason. Every option.
“The bottom line is that I have to give her the space to make up her own mind,” I say, coming to the same conclusion I have come to every time I think about it. “So, I don’t want to bring up this specific topic with her.”
Anka smiles. She looks quietly satisfied and almost proud of me.
