Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
REECE
My parents and I spend the weekend doing typical Rotheberg tourist stuff. After breakfast at the famous Rotheberg B?ckerei, we window shop our way through town, with Mum insisting we visit every ostentatiously faux Bavarian store on the five-block main drag. After oohing and aahing at the complex, hand-carved cuckoos and stately grandfather clocks at Walther Clockworks and purchasing organic trail mix at Helmut’s, we drive up to Crystal Lake for lunch at their famous lodge, then rent a boat for a tour of the beautiful lake. In the evening, we head back to the Lonely Goatherd for Oktoberfest.
“But it’s September.” Dad drops into his chair.
“The Munich Oktoberfest is in September,” Mum says. “Remember? We went there two years ago.”
“Let me check my calendar.” Dad huffs and drinks his water. “I barely remember where I was last week.”
Mum smacks his arm gently, then looks around the cheerful restaurant. Kitschy, alpine knickknacks hang from the walls, and painted flowering vines grace all of the wooden beams. “Is your Andi here?”
My heart lurches at the sound of her name, then drops a little when it realizes Mum wouldn’t recognize her if she were here. “I don’t know, Mum. We don’t really socialize.” I cross my fingers under the table.
“And whose fault is that?”
“For all you know, Andi is sixty-four years old with three grandchildren and a giant unibrow.”
She laughs so hard, she almost falls off her chair. Sagging against me, she regains control, wipes her eyes, and sips her sparkling water. “Not that a unibrow is funny. Or a reason not to date someone.”
“I’ll remember that if Frida Kahlo pops up on my dating app.”
“You have a dating app?” Mum grabs for my phone.
I whip it out of her reach. “No, I don’t.”
“Maybe you should. Then you wouldn’t have to date old women with unibrows.” She points across the room. “How about that one?”
I squint along the line of her arm. “That’s Mrs. Fogelhaus. She’s, like, ninety. And married.”
“No, the girl behind her.” Somehow, I know what she’s going to say before the words come out. “The one with the green hair.”
Mrs. Fogelhaus sails away from the front door, revealing Andi in her wake, and my mouth goes dry. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see her here, but I’m so stunned, I can’t come up with a coherent response to my mother’s comment.
She squeezes my arm, and I drag my gaze back to her face. Mum smiles. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
“I—yeah.”
Dad looks up from his beer. “Who?”
“Andi, Reece’s girl. Weren’t you paying attention, Slim?” Mum gives Dad a reproachful look.
“I was listening to a lot of nonsense about dating apps. Lost interest purty darn quick.” Dad’s Texas drawl comes on strong when he’s winding my mother up.
“If you ever want grandchildren, it wouldn’t hurt to pay attention to your son’s dating life.”
Dad raises his brows. “I would think meddling in my son’s dating life is the fastest way to ensure we never have grandchildren.”
I tune out their cheerful bickering, my attention centered on Andi as she makes her graceful way across the room, her long, bohemian skirt swirling around her ankles in time with her steps. She waves at a family by the door but doesn’t stop.
When her gaze lands on me with an almost physical thud, she pauses. Our eyes meet for a long second, and she hesitates, then gives a silent, regal nod as she walks right past me.
It hurts. I know she has a life in Rotheberg. That she’s been eating meals here since long before I knew she—or the pub—existed. That she’s undoubtedly meeting friends and I’m not even on the list. But it still hurts when she walks by as if I’m an acquaintance in the supermarket.
“Ah, she’s playing hard to get.” Mum pats my arm. “You need?—”
I swing around, pull her hand from my arm, and put it back on the table. “Mum.” I squeeze her fingers to ensure I have her attention. “She’s not playing hard to get. We don’t have that kind of relationship. I’m just a client. I barely know her. I’m sure we have nothing in common.”
“How can you possibly know that if you barely know her? You need to get to know her before you can write her off.”
I ignore that logic—especially since it doesn’t apply. I know her well enough to know we could be both a perfect fit and a complete disaster. I lift a hand to fend off her suggestion. “Even if I saw her as more than a business acquaintance, I’m not going to date a woman who’s leaving town in a few weeks. And don’t get me started on her family.”
Mum’s gaze flicks over my shoulder and back to me. Twice.
I close my eyes. “She’s standing behind me, isn’t she?”
Mum nods and rises, extending a hand. “Hello, you must be Andi! I’m Fiona.”