“How’s that going?”
The loops continue. “Fine.”
“Really?”
I glance up. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, it must be a little weird, being around an ex. Especially, like, working with him.” Cassidy reaches for the remote, tapping it against her thigh. “We should watchBend It Like Beckham, if you’re searching for inspiration. Remember how much you used to love that movie?”
I nod, chewing my lower lip. Ironically, a film with a player-coach storyline. At the time, I just loved that it was a sports movie with a female athlete.
“I kissed him,” I admit.
My sister whips her head in my direction, eyes searching my face for signs of seriousness. “Youdid?”
“Mmhmm.” It’s entertaining, watching the shock play across Cassidy’s face.
Growing up, she was always the one with scandalous stories to share. Now, her life is stable. Job, soon-to-be fiancé, kid.
My career is uncertain. I’m in love with a guy I can’t have. It feels like our former roles have flipped.
“Traffic was bad, huh?” she teases.
I roll my eyes. That’s what I told Cassidy when she commented on how late I’d come home that night.
“And?”
“It was…illuminating.” I roll the pen between my fingers. “I’m worried… I’m worried I’m still in love with him.”
“Would that be so bad?” Her tone is soft. Maternal.
“Yes! Because it took me years to get over it, and then he showed up here, and I have to start all over again.” I mutter a German swear.
I’ve been practicing more since he found out I’ve been learning, even though I know it’s pointless. Probably the same reason I kept texting him in Paris, knowing I was sinking deeper and deeper.
“Why do you have to get over it?”
“Because nothing has changed. We tried, and it didn’t work, and trying again would…would hurt.”
“Well, it seems like you have three options,” Cassidy tells me.
“I do?”
“Yep.” She lifts a finger. “One, you keep acting like a coward.”
“That’s—”
Cassidy continues, ignoring me and lifting another finger, “Two, you stop stressing about what could go wrong and go after what you want. At least get some good sex out of it.”
I huff.
She flashes me three fingers. “Or, option three, you could be honest. You could tell him how you feel and why you’re scared to try again. Figure out a solution to betogether, together.”
I’m silent.
Cassidy is, too, letting me think.
“There’s no solution,” I finally say. “That’s why—how—things went wrong the first time. He lives thousands of miles away. That’s not a distance that works.”
