At that very moment, I spot a woman behind hisshoulder. I would recognize that head of curls among thousands, even if I were three times as drunk as I am now.
"I'm sorry. The remaining dances are reserved for my sweetheart," Florian says from a distance.
"Of course." I nod as I scan the guests one by one. If his girlfriend is here, Noah can't be far away. Yet I don't spot him.
Together with Florian, I stumble away from the sun terrace-turned-dance floor. I should eat something, so I weave my way through the guests to the buffet, grab a thick slice of bread heavily topped with cheese, and take a satisfying bite.
"Hello." Suddenly, Miss Curls stands so close to me that our upper arms touch. The bite almost gets stuck in my throat. Chewing vigorously, I smile shyly at her.
She places her beer glass next to the serving plates on the table, and I notice the emblem of the mountain rescue team on her jacket sleeve. "You're Elina, right?"
Her smile is open and has something so warm-hearted that I can't help but find her likable. "And you're Noah's girlfriend," I reply because it's better to face it head-on, no matter how painful the pang in my chest is when I utter the words Noah's girlfriend.
She extends her hand to me. "I'm Anita. Nice to meet you under more relaxed circumstances."
If there was a last spark of hope in me that all of this could be a misunderstanding, it just extinguished. I feel a heaviness in my entire body, and even my mouth corners refuse to stay up.
"Thank you for your help with Noah's injury. He can be very..."
"Stubborn?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "And trust isn't his strong suit either. I've noticed that."
She shrugs, her gaze becoming wistful. "It's no wonder given what..." She pauses mid-sentence. "Never mind," she suddenly says. "What do I know? I shouldn't judge him or what happened. After all, we're just colleagues."
"Just colleagues?" My presumably very noticeable alcohol level loosens my tongue. "So you mean you're not...?" It slips out of me.
"My God, no." With a hearty laugh, she shows me her right hand. A slim gold ring adorns her ring finger. "Besides, he doesn't let anyone get close to him anymore." Melancholy seeps into her voice.
"Why is that?" I probably shouldn't ask, but I'm burning to learn more about this rough-edged man.
Anita places her hand on my forearm. "You'd better ask him yourself," she says meaningfully, lowering her eyes.
"I will," I murmur absentmindedly. So my intuition was right. When I treated his wound, I already knew he needed help.
I can give him that help. And there would be nothing more beautiful than doing so.
Think of the firefighter, Maya's voice whispers in my mind.
"As his doctor, of course," I say, more to myself than to Anita.
His follow-up appointment, including a discussion of his blood test results, is scheduled for next Thursday. I will sit across from him, look into his eyes with concentration, and not give up until I know what's wrong with him. It's a good thing he insisted onhaving the last appointment at the end of the opening hours. That way, we'll have enough time. Hopefully, he will open up to me because one thing is clear: Whatever problem has a hold on him, I want to make sure he gets rid of it.
As his doctor. Of course.
