Chapter 19 #2
He choked on his wine and laughed. “I wasn’t even thinking of that.”
Dinner past, the dances started, and my dad made his way around the room, chatting away to all of his friends, old and new.
My dad was my favourite person.
I didn’t want to hurt him.
Watching him laugh, watching how happy he’d become since his retirement, I had been ecstatic for him.
The thought of upsetting him by working with Imre made disappointment at myself pitch in my stomach.
And of all the places I thought I belonged, I always thought it was with him. I was a Daddy’s girl through and through. Even if we weren’t biologically related.
But now I felt like I didn’t even deserve to celebrate him.
Zolt tugged on my arm, and I blinked out my negative thoughts before following him.
“Are you okay?” he asked me, in one of the empty side rooms, still decked in framed photos of my dad from across the years. Mum had them commissioned so they would look medieval with harsh brush strokes. Zolt stood beside one that made him look like a sailor.
I looked into my dad’s serious expression before nodding.
He saw right through it, stroking my arms. “Are you?”
My deep exhale was broken. “Yes. I’m feeling a touch overwhelmed. But I’ll be fine.”
“Should I have stayed at my hotel? I can go back—”
“No,” I said, maybe a bit too eager. “No. Please stay. I like having you here.”
He brushed my cheek, hooked my chin, and drew my lips to his.
But I couldn’t let it be a long kiss. A peck was all my racing, guilty heart could manage.
And it was a good thing, too, because then Jordan came in.
I was ninety percent sure he didn’t see. But he definitely noted how close we were standing together and how I jerked back.
“Hey, Jordan,” I said, my voice three times faster and three octaves higher than usual.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt— I just wanted to chat to Fia. It’s been so long since we spoke.”
It was odd to talk about me instead of to me, but when I looked at Zolt, it all made sense.
His chest was heaving, his eyes trained on Jordan, like a bull ready to charge.
“Of course,” I said, my voice the same as earlier. “This is Zoltán Farkas. My new placement means I’m translating for him for the rest of the championship.”
Jordan blinked at me, his brows lowering to suggest he didn’t quite buy it.
Because how could he?
“Jordan Thomas,” he said, and offered a hand to shake.
Zolt looked at it until I widened my eyes at him pointedly.
As soon as he took it, Jordan smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “Nice to meet you.”
When their hands went back, he shook out his fingers. Zolt and I were going to have a conversation about social etiquette. Whether it was my ex or not.
“You are?”
Zolt was a man of very few words in English, but I could tell he focused really hard on those two words by his frown. Or maybe not. Maybe the frown was all because of Jordan.
Jordan looked startled, as if he didn’t want to admit anything about who we were to each other.
“We’ve known each other since we were sixteen,” he said. A good way of answering the question without answering the question.
“Friends,” Zolt said.
Jordan’s nod was enthusiastic. “Yes. Friends.”
Zolt cocked a brow at me.
“How long are you back for?” Jordan asked me, turning so his back was partly turned to Zolt.
Not a good thing to do when there was a bull ready to make you prey, but Jordan had always been an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ kind of guy.
“I’ve got some time off from my placement.
I thought we could go to the new Lebanese restaurant. ”
Oh, he had a death wish.
Zolt’s brows collided with his lashes. They were so lovely and long.
“I’m pretty busy over the next couple of days,” I said. “But, hey, you have that new girlfriend, don’t you? You should take her.”
Zolt blinked at me over Jordan’s shoulder.
Fuck, had that sounded bitter?
Jordan shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Text me when you’re in town next. Look after her, bud.”
“She no need look after.”
My ex nodded and quickly made his way out of the room.
But Zolt was not a fan.
“He’s not a threat,” I laughed. “He’s my ex for a reason. It was a childish relationship. We’re friends.”
He wasn’t buying it. He gestured at the door. “He asked you out on a date!”
“He didn’t — he asked me to go to a Lebanese restaurant because that used to be our thing.”
“You still have things with him?”
“I have nothing with him,” I said and pressed into his space, his rough hands immediately cupping my elbows.
“Are you going to go on a date with him?”
“No.”
“Are you jealous of the new girlfriend?”
“No.”
He nodded. If Jordan had asked that question last year, he would have pressed it further. He would have given side glances, disbelieving.
But I didn’t have to give Zoltán anything. Because he trusted me.
As I trusted him.
“Your English was fast then,” I complimented. “You’re making real improvements.”
“I want punch him. Tell him you are mine,” he spat, looking at the door he’d left through.
My smile was proud.
“It’s hard…” He paused, breathing in as he thought, and continued. “Keeping us secret.”
“It was a bit obvious there,” I admitted. “But that’s your fault.”
“You go red with me.”
He was doing so well. I was so impressed by how quickly he’d turned it around, especially in conversation, when he didn’t say the rehearsed lines that he knew about sex or racing.
But my smile faltered when the door crashed open and Everly, fighting her long skirt, pointed her finger at him. “She blushes from second-hand embarrassment!”
She stood between us and almost snarled. “Look at you. Following your step-sister across Europe to try and get in her pants again. Disgusting.”
Zolt sighed and leaned against the wall. “Sure.”
My heart beat faster. I said that all the time. He was learning from me.
At least partly.
“I sent Jordan in here to remind you what a decent man looked like,” Everly groaned.
Zolt stopped leaning. He stood behind Everly, nostrils flaring.
“I’m not interested in Jordan,” I said and rolled my eyes. “Everly, this really isn’t any of your—”
But then my mother walked in.
“What are you two—” She looked at the three of us and frowned. “Why have you brought Imre’s son here? That’s who you are, isn’t it?”
Zolt shook his head. “No. He married my mother.”
Mum scoffed. Her hatred for Imre ran so deep.
Sometimes I wondered what my life would have been like if things had ended amicably between them, like me and Jordan.
“Good luck to her,” my mum snapped. “Now, if you’re done playing happy families, it’s your father’s birthday and the video is about to play.”
This was the first time I was seeing her properly since I’d left the voicemail. We’d spoken, and we’d FaceTimed, but she’d avoided the conversation, only telling me, ‘It’s okay, it couldn’t be helped. Just be honest from now on.’
But I hadn’t been.
“I’m not playing happy families, Mum. I’m trying to solve a situation that both of my parents put me in.”
Mum’s dark eyes widened, stony anger in her expression.
“A situation he put you in. A situation you are now putting yourself in again by being with him instead of your dad on his birthday. A situation that meant you couldn’t help me prepare for this.
A situation where you sent me your video clip in a different location than the rest of your family. ”
“That was part of it!” I cried. “He loves StormSprint. So I filmed it there! I was going to do that all along.”
“No, you did it because otherwise it would have been filmed at Imre’s. And that would have been an insult.”
Zolt stepped in front of me. “You blame her. Who make mess? Not her.”
It mirrored what I had said, but Mum was startled at his words. She went to speak, but he carried on.
“Anyone can see. She was the child.”
His English might be coming along a little too well.
My mum couldn’t argue, and she knew it. She was all for appearances, and this stranger was not about to receive her anger.
Even if she was bristling.
And I loved Zolt for it. I didn’t need protecting, but I was glad he was there to offer it.
“The video will be playing shortly,” Mum said through gritted teeth. “Ensure you’re there for it.”
I nodded, and my family walked out.
Everly and my mum weren’t exactly the best of friends; seeing them on the same side would usually fill me with happiness.
But not when that side was opposite mine. Normally, I could do no wrong. Usually, they fought for me, not against me.
Zolt placed his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“Did I go too far?”
I cocked my head from one side to the other. “Maybe. You don’t have to do that for me.”
“I didn’t know where the line was.” He stroked the hollow of my neck with his thumb. “Tell me everything you want from me.”
Your last name? Your kids?
“If you want me to stand here and let you handle it, say. You want me to stand up for you? Done. You want me to be polite or passive-aggressive? Easy. You want me to take you from here? I already know where we’re going.”
I exhaled deeply, knowing that no matter what, I was safe in his orbit. Their words might hurt, and I wasn’t above being hurt by them, but he was there to comfort the ache.
“I don’t want to miss the video,” I said quietly.
“Then we won’t.”
And he took my hand, and we went to sit in our seats again, not looking at my mother or sister.
A projector had been put on, and the orchestra stopped playing for a minute for the montage of clips to play.
My sister and Luca filmed theirs together, thanking him for bringing them together.
My youngest brother spoke from the heart, my middle brother thought he was too cool for such a thing, but he even ended his video with a quick, mumbled, “I love you, Dad.”
And mine started in French, telling him how he’d given me multiple languages, a backdrop to practice them all in, and the travel to enjoy different cultures and worlds. But, mostly, he taught me how to show passion and love.
Zolt squeezed my thigh.
Everly caught the movement; her lips parted, and her shocked eyes drew up to mine.
And I knew I was in trouble.