‘Of course.’ Going to Eline’s apartment was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn’t argue. Lack of privacy was the price of fame. No wonder Theo kept a low profile. ‘Where’s your apartment?’
‘It’s near the river but I’ll send a car for you. Shall we say six?’
We had an apartment near the river.
She swallowed hard. Had Eline got their apartment after the divorce? Was that the apartment she’d be going to—Theo’s former home? Her stomach churned. ‘Sounds great. You’ll want my address...’
‘Lotte gave it to me already. Totally cool, by the way, living on a barge.’
‘It is.’ Eline’s friendliness was throwing her off-balance.
‘So... I’ll see you on Friday evening, then?’
‘Yes. Great!’ She swallowed hard. ‘Bye for now.’
Heaviness tugged at her chest. She slumped back in her chair, rolling her phone over and over in her hands. She didn’t want to meet Theo’s ex, didn’t want the job, but she was committed because of Lotte. How on earth was she going to get herself out of this mess?
For the past week she’d been turning things over in her head, trying to come to terms with Theo’s paranoia about his family’s privacy. After he’d left her on the barge that morning, she’d sat for a long time considering what he’d said about Ash, Madelon and poor Fred Zucker. His words had been calmly spoken, flawlessly logical, but he’d been tangibly edgy, his finger tapping the side of his mug, tightness in his shoulders and around his mouth. His body language had pointed to some deep-rooted internal anxiety and, when he’d said he had an appointment with Direk, for a second it had felt as if he was running away; running scared.
She’d wondered if he was leaving to avoid her questions, had even wondered if he was telling the truth about meeting Direk, but there had been an appointment. He’d come back with photos on his phone: pictures of the colour patches Direk had painted on the walls—damsons, ochres, and olives—and a hand-blown glass vase that Direk had brought because he’d thought it would work well on the sitting-room mantelpiece. And then she’d felt guilty for doubting him.
So the dust had settled. There’d been dinners out and early-morning walks. Star-gazing in the dome followed by long nights in his bed. Or in her bed, with watery moonlight glancing through the cabin windows. He’d told her a little about his mother—a librarian, he said, living a quiet life on the outskirts of the city. And he’d told her about Madelon—how she’d used to make up plays with her dolls, doing funny voices, making them laugh. Happy memories.
She’d told herself that in time these little glimpses would form a picture, that if she was patient he’d show her what he was hiding inside, trust her with all the things he found so hard to talk about. And she’d told herself that when that day finally came she would put her heart on the line and tell him that she was in love with him.
But Eline’s phone call had just changed the landscape.
When Lotte had first told her about the job with Eline, she’d resolved not to tell Theo about it, but now that the moment had arrived there was no way she could keep him in the dark. She didn’t want to hide anything from him. She switched off her computer and got to her feet. Telling him about the Eline situation would surely make him see that he could trust her, and maybe he’d be open with her in return, tell her more about what had happened between him and Eline. Perhaps this curve ball would actually be the making of them...
She pulled on her jacket and contemplated the grey sky through the window. Clouds storing up rain. That was Theo...storing rain. If only she could make him see that, for him, she didn’t mind getting wet.
The doorbell jangled. Theo startled then stilled, listening to the sound of the door being opened, the weighty clunk of it closing. Only two people had a key, and Direk was in Utrecht.
‘Mia?’
He felt a glow of happiness as her voice ballooned up the stairwell. ‘Hello-o-o! I’ve brought you something!’
He saved his work and coasted his chair away from the desk. He hadn’t expected to see her until the evening, but he didn’t mind the interruption. She was his favourite distraction. He started down the stairs, light-hearted, loose-limbed.
She was in the bigger of the two sitting rooms, arranging tulips in Direk’s fancy vase, her shirt sleeves rolled back, the white cotton skimming her smooth forearms as she worked. Her jeans were loose on her hips, turned up at the ankles, her bare feet sheathed in blue loafers. The air was fragrant with her perfume, or maybe that was the flowers. He leaned against the door frame, watching, but she must have sensed him because she looked up and cornered him with a smile. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re amazing.’
‘I was talking about the tulips...’
He walked towards her. ‘I think you’re amazing the way you can put tulips into a vase and transform a room. You’ve made it feel like a home.’
‘The way you did with your improvised romantic dining room!’
He smiled and pulled her into his arms. ‘Move over Direk!’ He felt her hands sliding over his shoulders, warm fingers threading through the hair at his nape. He leaned in and kissed her, felt an instant thrill of desire. ‘Hello, by the way...and thank you for the flowers.’ He kissed her again, not wanting to stop. ‘I wasn’t expecting you till later.’
‘I know, but I need to talk to you about something.’ She took her hands from the back of his neck and eased herself out of his arms.
For some reason his heart bumped. He dug his hands into the pockets of his chinos and rocked back on his heels. ‘Okay. What is it?’
She carefully laced her fingers together then met his gaze. ‘I’ve
