Chapter 18
Troy watches Klara disappear through the revolving door in the front of her office building.
He’s going to be late for work, but he needed to bring her a coffee. It’s important that he not miss a day. Their future together depends on it.
And she tried to foil that, unknowingly, by claiming she was too tired to see him, by requesting to be alone for the night. It was inexplicable. It enraged him. But he can’t let her see that.
So instead, he told her he was sorry, even though it was him who was owed the apology. He brought her a coffee with pumpkin spice syrup, skim milk, half a packet of raw sugar, and two packets of Splenda, even though she’s certainly already had her caffeine fix for the day.
He knows exactly how she takes her coffee, her complicated, borderline-irritating order.
He feels like a fool placing it himself.
He has invested so much into this relationship.
So much more time than Klara even knows.
She has no idea that sometimes, even when he isn’t with her, he is watching her.
She has no idea how long he’s been planning, watching.
Months ago, before she knew of his existence, he listened as she placed her order at a coffee shop.
This was after he saw her at that first bar association event, after he’d figured out her name and where she worked.
On a few occasions, he enjoyed being able to observe her in close proximity without her noticing.
That day, he lingered outside her office building and followed her to a café around the corner.
He waited in line behind her, one customer between them.
He stood in the corner and waited for his own coffee, large and black, as she slipped from the shop.
Troy can no longer watch her as closely as he wants to when they aren’t together.
He can still cruise past her condo building and stare up at the windows he knows are hers, glowing golden around the edges.
He cannot see her through the shades, but he can know that she is behind them.
He did that last night, just to be sure she was really home.
And she was, the glow of her windows a comfort.
Fortunately, most nights he can be much closer. He can be with her. He can hold her and stroke her and be inside her. He can stare at her fluttering eyelids as she sleeps and feel the beating of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest as he lies in bed beside her.
But not if she claims she’s too tired to see him. This is why they need to move in together—so that she has nowhere else to go.
Which is why he needs to propose. But he can’t do that until he is certain she will say yes.
Yet he can feel her pulling away from him, can sense her displeasure.
So perhaps the right move at this point is to give her a little space, which she is so clearly craving.
That feels like a setback. But he’s not sure what else he can do.
If he continues to press, he might lose her.
That’s happened in the past with the few women whom he could’ve seen himself marrying.
He pressed and pressed until they fled, ungrateful for his gestures, for the way he’d filled their lives.
That can’t happen with Klara. She’s too right for him, and he’s devoted so much time and energy and risk into making her his.
Troy wants to watch Klara longer. He wants to follow her into her office and watch until she’s finished the entire cup of coffee. But he can’t do that, and so he turns away and heads back to where he parked his car, in a metered spot around the corner.
There will be plenty of other times to watch her. There will be forever.