I had purposely avoided asking for his phone number, too aware that if I had it, I would use it. On my darkest days, I considered not renewing my lease on the apartment, only so I wouldn’t have a connection to the phone line. After hearing from him, I secretly willed the ringer to trill day in and day out. It had made everything worse, yet I felt better knowing I was still on his mind. Six months had passed since I came home to a note, and not one was easier than the last. No matter how I tried to hold it together, I knew I was falling apart, hating myself for the decision I failed to make.

I spent the majority of Maks’ wedding cursing my heart for ever opening and smiting my body for craving him. It was so simple for Maks and Igor. All they had to do was feel something for a broad, get into a relationship that everyone would applaud, and marry the dame in front of ecstatic friends and family. It was simple, straightforward, and the complete opposite of what falling in love was like for me. I wondered if the obstacles made me love Cal more than those on easy street would ever have to. To be lukewarm when there weren’t any consequences for you was probable, but a lack of investment when there were ramifications was incredibly unlikely.

“You seemed to have a good time at the wedding,” Maks noted as we sat on the couch in my apartment a week after his nuptials.

“With all the bratwurst and pretzels, I felt like I was in the middle of Munich,” I yawned, taking a sip of my very American Schlitz. “All that was missing was imported German beer.”

“You will have to talk to Adolf Hitler about that.”

“I would prefer not to have that chat,” I smirked. “He’s out of control, you know?”

“Are you talking in third person or are we still on Hitler?” Maks attempted to clarify.

“Me, out of control? Come on now.”

“You were pretty zozzled at the wedding. Ingrid told me Gladys was glad to reunite with you. She thinks there’s a chance at a future since you spent most of the night on the dance floor swinging with her.”

“Well, good old Gladys is out of luck. I’m not looking for a broad.”

“Same as always then?”

“Same as always,” I confirmed.

“And is that because you’re intent on upholding your father’s defunct motto, or do you have other reasons?” he pressed.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to determine what he was getting at. “I haven’t met a dame I like enough to date.”

We were silent for a moment, which was odd considering Maks was usually more than willing to fill a pause.

“How about a fellow?” he asked tentatively, his words stripping me of my breath.