Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LUKAS
Iwake slowly, still half-caught in sleep, my body reaching instinctively for her before my mind catches up. My hand meets cold sheets.
For a moment, I stay there, eyes still closed, suspended in that space where nothing quite makes sense yet. Then it settles properly, the quiet of the room pressing in, the absence unmistakable in a way that feels wrong.
I open my eyes, and Kate’s gone.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, letting the reality of it land without rushing to react. The flat is too still, too empty for someone who was here just a few hours ago, and it takes less than a second for last night to come back in full.
Her kiss.
Her hands.
The way she didn’t hesitate once she decided to take what she wanted.
The way she stayed.
I push myself upright, dragging a hand through my hair as I glance around the room, as if there might be some sign I’ve missed. But there’s nothing. No trace of her except the memory of it, and the faint impression left behind in my bed.
I’m used to women leaving early. That part isn’t new. What’s new is the way it sits with me. It doesn’t feel easy or expected, it feels unfinished.
I stand, moving through the flat without much thought, checking the kitchen and the hallway, even though I already know she’s not there. Her things are gone. She didn’t just step out to grab coffee, she made a decision to leave.
I lean against the counter, exhaling slowly as I piece it together. Kate doesn’t do things without thinking. Even last night, as spontaneous as it felt, there was intention in everything she did. She chose it. Which means this morning, she chose to leave.
“Tabarnak…” I mutter under my breath, scrubbing a hand over my face. She’s overthinking. Of course she is.
I push away from the counter and grab my phone, hesitating for a moment before opening our messages. I don’t usually do this. I don’t follow up, don’t chase, I definitely don’t try to define something that was never meant to be more than what it was.
But this isn’t that, and pretending it is would be a mistake. I type something simple.
Lukas: Did you make it home okay?
I stare at it briefly, then send it before I can overthink it. It’s enough, not too much or too little. Just a way back in.
I set the phone down, but I don’t move far. Instead, I pace a little, restless in a way that has nothing to do with last night’s game or the usual post-match adrenaline. This feels different. Quieter, but heavier. When my phone finally buzzes, I pick it up immediately.
Kate: Yes. I’m home.
It’s short and careful, I can almost see her typing it, weighing every word as she does. A small smile tugs at my mouth despite myself.
Lukas: You left early.
There’s a pause before she replies.
Kate: I didn’t want to wake you.
I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head slightly. Of course, that’s what she says. I type again, a little more deliberately this time.
Lukas: That is not the real reason.
The reply takes longer.
Kate: I needed to think.
I lean back against the counter, considering that. It’s exactly what I expected, and still, it doesn’t sit right with me. Thinking is what’s going to ruin this if I let it.
I run my thumb along the edge of my phone before typing again.
Lukas: Can I call you? FaceTime. It’s easier than this.
There’s a longer pause this time, long enough that I know she’s hesitating, probably pacing somewhere, talking herself in and out of it. Then her response pops into my inbox.
Kate: Okay.
I don’t wait. I hit the call button before she can change her mind. It rings once. Twice. Then her face appears on the screen.
She’s in her car. I can tell immediately from the angle that the light is hitting her from the side. Her hair is pulled back, not styled the way it was last night, and something real and unguarded about that pulls at me harder than it should. She looks tense.
“Hi,” she says, a little unsure.
“Bonjour,” I reply, softer, letting my voice settle. “You look like you have been arguing with yourself all morning.”
That earns me the smallest flicker of a smile. “That obvious?”
“A little,” I admit, shifting so I’m leaning properly against the counter, giving her my full attention. “You left without saying goodbye. That’s not something people do when they are completely calm about their decisions.”
She exhales, glancing away from the camera for a second before looking back at me. “I panicked.”
I nod slightly. “I thought so.”
“I didn’t mean to just leave,” she adds quickly. “I just… woke up and it all felt very real, very quickly.”
“And that scared you.”
“Yes.” A slight blush taints her cheeks, and her gorgeous eyes glisten as the light catches them. There’s no hesitation in her answer, and I respect that more than anything else. She’s not pretending or brushing it off.
I soften slightly, my tone quieter now. “Kate, look at me.”
She does, and I hold her gaze through the screen, making sure she sees exactly what I mean when I say the next part.
“I do not think less of you because you stayed,” I tell her.
“Or because you wanted me. If anything,” I pause briefly, choosing my words carefully.
“I liked that you didn’t hesitate once you decided. I liked it a lot.”
Her expression shifts at that, and her shoulders visibly loosen. “It wasn’t casual for me; I don’t do casual sex,” she admits.
“Good,” I say simply. “It wasn’t for me either.”
That lands. I can see it in the way she stills slightly and her eyes search mine, as if she’s trying to work out whether I mean it. I do.
“I know I’m not your usual…” I gesture vaguely, a small smile tugging at my mouth. “Situation.”
She lets out a quiet breath, it’s almost like a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“And you are not mine,” I add. That gets her attention. “In a good way,” I clarify, my voice softer. “I’m used to things being easy. Simple. No expectations or thinking.” I tilt my head slightly. “You are not easy, Kate.”
Her eyebrow lifts slightly. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It is,” I say, more firmly. “Because it means I have to try. And I want to try.”
The words hang between us. I let her sit in silence, let her decide what to do with it.
She looks down briefly, then back up at me. “You’re being very calm about this.”
I smile slightly. “Someone has to be.” That earns me a small, genuine laugh.
“Last night happened because we both wanted it,” I continue, keeping my tone steady and grounded. “That doesn’t mean it has to become something complicated immediately. It just means…” I pause, watching her carefully. “We liked each other enough to take that step.”
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
“And I would like to see you again,” I add, more directly now. “Properly. Without you running away in the morning.”
Her lips press together slightly, like she’s trying not to smile.
“That’s fair,” she says.
I tilt my head. “Dinner again. Or something easier, if that feels like too much. Coffee. A walk. I am flexible.”
She stares at me, weighing up what I’ve said. “You’re serious about this?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation, because I am.
She exhales slowly, some of the tension finally easing out of her posture. “Okay,” she says again, but this time it sounds different. More certain.
“Okay?” I repeat, just to be sure.
“Okay,” she confirms, a small smile pulling at her mouth now. “We can do that.”
I let out a sigh, feeling lighter than I have since the start of the conversation.
“Good,” I say, returning the smile. “I’ll plan something that does not involve you overthinking.”
She laughs softly. “Good luck with that.”
“I like a challenge,” I reply easily.
There’s a quiet moment after that, but it doesn’t feel tense anymore. It feels steady, as if we’ve moved past the drama instead of getting stuck in it.
“Thank you,” she says after a few seconds.
“For what?”
“For not making this weird.”
I shake my head slightly. “It’s only weird if we decide it is.”
She nods, considering that. “I should go,” she says after a moment. “I’m at Emma’s. Hudson’s here.”
“Ah,” my small smile returning. “The important man.”
“That’s him.”
I take her in a little longer, committing the way she looks now to memory.
“I’ll message you later,” I tell her. “We can organise something.”
“Bye, Lukas.” Her smile feels genuine now.
“à bient?t, Kate.”
The call ends, her face disappearing from the screen, but the feeling doesn’t. I stand there, phone still in my hand, letting it settle. This isn’t going to be easy or simple.
But then, I don’t want it to be.