Rolf peered at me. “And are you easily… involved?”
Dieter huffed at that.
I glanced between them, aware of the direction this was taking, and of how little interest I had in deflecting it.
“Iam precise.”
Rolf smiled. “Yes. That’s what worries me.” He studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. “He trusted you.”
Again, it wasn’t a question, and I suspected it had nothing to do with the party.
“Yes,” I said.
“And you didn’t misuse that.”
“No.”
Rolf’s expression spoke of approval. “Good.” After a brief pause, he added, “So what’s the problem?”
Dieter answered before I did.
“He’s trying to decide whether calling him will ruin everything or finally make it real.”
Rolf expelled a quiet breath. “Ah,thatproblem.”
I looked at the phone again. It hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed.
Still silent.
“It will change things,” I said at last.
Rolf nodded. “Yes, it will.”
“And you don’t know if you want that change,” Dieter added.
I let the silence sit for a moment, not exactly avoiding the answer but allowing it to form fully.
“It will require something I have not yet decided I’m prepared to offer.”
Rolf held my gaze. “Then the question isn’t whether you call him,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s whether you’re willing to live with what happens if you don’t.”
Dieter raised his glass. “Andwe’re back to consequences.”
Rolf smiled as he picked up his latte. “Always.” He turned to Felix, cupped his chin, and pulled him in for a kiss.
The conversation around us continued, the cafe as alive and unchanging as it had been when I’d arrived. My phone remained where I had left it.
Dieter was studying me again. “Well?” he said at last, not unkindly, but without any attempt to soften the question. “Are you going to call him, or are you planning to interrogate your drink until it answers for you?”
I set the glass down. “No.”
A simple, definitive response.
Dieter tilted his head. “No,” he repeated. “As in not yet, or not at all?”
“Not like this,” I said.
“Explain.”