“No, I did not.”
“Well.” She settled back into her chair looking deeply entertained now. “This conversation just became way more interesting.”
“That sentence makes me nervous.”
“It should.”
I groaned and dragged both hands down my face. “Claire.”
“Most people react to you.”
“React?”
“Yeah. They push back. Or they go along with whatever you want.” She shrugged. “This guy doesn’t sound interested in doing either.”
The air caught in my lungs hard enough that I stopped moving altogether.
Because she was right.
I’d spent days trying to work out why every interaction with Luka felt slightly off balance.
Claire went very still, then stared at me for a second. “Well.”
I laughed once under my breath, though there wasn’t much humor left in it now. “Yeah. That’s about where I’m at too.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then Claire reached across the table and tapped the back of my hand. “You know the really funny part?”
“I’m terrified to ask.”
“You keep calling this confusion.” Her eyes held mine.
“And?”
“Dean.” She laughed softly. “I’ve known you forhowmany years?”
Something about that question immediately made me wary.
“You don’t get confused.”
Then she smiled.
I had the distinct impression the conversation had stopped being about Luka several minutes ago.
We leftthe café together and drifted into the evening crowd, shoulder to shoulder while Milan surged around us in waves of headlights, voices, and impatient traffic.
Claire slid her sunglasses back into place as we stopped near the curb.
“You’ll be fine.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious, Dean.” She nudged my arm. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
I wished I felt that certain.
“You always talk like you know the ending before everyone else.”
