“Is that where you go when you feel… I don’t know?”
I didn’t know what I was doing. Or saying. I was no doubt as frazzled as he was.
Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave. Just stay with me.
“Home?” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “I have my own house. It’s…home. Where do you go when you feel down? For comfort? Do you go see your parents?”
I shook my head violently. I didn’t mean to react like that, but things…triggered me easily. And I wasn’t used to these kinds of conversations.
“My parents kicked me out when I was like…sixteen or something. Well, my mum did. My stepdad and I didn’t get on.”
“I see,” he said quietly.
“I wasn’t an easy child.”
“Don’t make up excuses for your parents being irresponsible.”
“They were… I could look after myself.”
“Isn’t that what we all say when we’re teenagers? We think we can, but we’re pretty crap at it. I have two living proofs of that who still come home and trash their rooms on occasion.”
“I did… Look. I put myself through school and went to uni, and I have a double master’s in Economics and Maths and then I did my German degree.”
“Impressive,” he said quietly. “You have a German degree?”
“Yeah. Did a year abroad too. Got a scholarship.”
“I went straight to work once I qualified. I would have liked to travel.”
“You still can.”
“I go to dentistry conventions?”
I had to laugh. Brilliant. “Mmm. Exciting.”
“It actually is. I have some good friends in the community. It’s a very social event.”
“I bet.”
“Probably as social as German economics conventions.”
“Not a thing.” I smiled. “At least not one I get invited to. I work with the office in Frankfurt. We have subcontractors in Berlin and Munich. I deal with Vienna. The Basel office is a pain in the arse; I try not to go there.”
“Switzerland is nice. I took the boys skiing one year.”
“You said you hadn’t travelled?”
He smiled, letting his shoulders drop. A little more relaxed.
“Travelling with kids is not the same as travelling for exploration and relaxation. It was a week of constant chaos and praying the kids wouldn’t break their necks. I hated it. Hated every minute.”
“Peter,” I whined, but I was smiling.
“You,” he said, tensing up a little again, then letting a smile develop. I liked how his face seemingly cracked open when he smiled. Lots of little laughter lines. A glitter in his eyes.
“You’re going to make some man very, very happy one day.”
I didn’t expect that, my defence mechanisms powering up to max before he’d even finished the sentence.
