Coming here was impulsive, and I don’t have a lot of experience with impulsivity…or the flux that follows. I’m still registering that I’m in Germany. Still processing everything Otto said during his press conference and during that surreal moment in the stands after the game.
The front door swings open, and Otto flips on the interior lights.
At first, I’m in awe. The inside of the house is as beautiful as the exterior. Wide wooden floorboards and creamy white walls. Matching furnishings. I wonder if he hired a professional decorator to?—
Oh.
I make a small, startled sound as soon as I see it.
Otto glances at me, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he shuts the door and drops the bags. “I would have moved it if I had known you were coming.”
I’m frozen, staring at the wall that’s becoming increasingly blurry. “How—when did you get that?”
“I went back to the Louvre after the final. I wanted—they sell the prints in the gift shop. Bought one and had it framed.”
I taste salt and realize the tears have streamed down to my lips.
Otto swears and reaches toward the print.
I grab his wrist. “Don’t.”
I was sure—so, so sure—that Otto had moved on easily from us. Two days later, he became a gold medalist. Two years later, he won another World Cup. Professionally, he was thriving. He was dating, then engaged to someone else.
Since he showed up in Boston, there have been plenty of moments I second-guessed that assumption. But I’m staring at evidence he didn’t. A print ofLes Murmures de l’Aubehangs on the wall directly across from the front door. It’s prominently displayed. Impossible to miss.
Otto shakes off my hold on his wrist, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “Come on.” He takes my hand, leading me into a huge kitchen that overlooks the sprawling yard.
“This isn’t where I pictured you living,” I tell him, glancing around the pristine space.
The counters are a dark marble, the appliances all shiny and seemingly brand-new.
“You have spent time picturing my house?” He rests a hip against the counter, smirking. It doesn’t reach his eyes though. He’s still worried about my reaction to the print.
“Yes.” I perch on one of the stools that line the counter, spinning slowly. “It’s…big.”
From the exterior, it looked large. But it extends back even farther than I realized.
“You say that to me a lot.”
I roll my eyes, but his cocky comment dissipates more of the tension. “Why’d you buy this one?”
He rests his elbows on the counter, leaning closer to me. “I have a flat in Kluvberg too. I liked being closer to the city and the stadium when I first signed with the club. But as I got older, had more attention on me, I wanted some privacy. Land around, where I could go outside and relax. Did not need the big house, but it came with the property, and I had the money, so…”
I pause spinning, resting my elbows on the counter too. “I saw your press conference.”
He nods, appearing uncertain. “I figured you had not suddenly decided you could not go another day without seeing an FC Kluvberg match.”
“I had no idea the charity game was today,” I admit. “I got on the first flight I could.” I blow out a long breath. “You can’t do it, Otto.”
He holds my gaze. “Of course I can. My contract ends?—”
“Youshouldn’tdo it.”
A muscle in his jaw tics. “It is done.”
“Then undo it and?—”
“No.”
