Page 68 of The Tryst

I wince, because that’s not a normal greeting. It speaks to his level of worry. “I’m good. But I need a few days off.”

“No fucking way,” he growls. “It’s time you got back on the horse so to speak. You’re not going to hide away—”

“I’m not hiding,” I break in on him. “I’m going to Zurich.”

There’s silence and then a small chuckle. “Well, in that case… consider your time off request approved.”

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“Good luck, brother,” he replies and I hear the amusement in his voice. “You’re going to need it. I suggest lots of groveling.”

“Whatever it takes,” I assure him.

CHAPTER 25

Holland

There’s nothing likesitting outside my favorite café on a crisp Saturday morning. I can almost believe I fit in as the locals move about Old Town, weaving in and out of picture-taking tourists as they traverse the cobblestones.

I sip my cappuccino, savoring the tranquility and trying to ignore the fact that my heart is elsewhere.

I focus on the people as they go about their day, lost in their own lives. Some are walking their dogs, others are carrying groceries, and a few are simply enjoying the morning like I am. I vaguely note the familiar sounds of Zurich that always hover in the background. The distant hum of cars, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional ringing of a bicycle bell. It’s a beautiful day… the type I’m always grateful for, but I can’t shake free of the emptiness inside.

My thoughts keep drifting back to Kentucky, to the Blackburns, and most of all, to Trey. It’s been a week since I left, the pain still as raw as ever. I tell myself that time will make it better, but deep down, I know that a part of me will always be waiting for him.

With a sigh, I watch two women at a table near the edge of the outdoor patio where I’m sitting. One is about my age and the other might be her mother since they look so much alike. They’re sharing coffee and a plate of croissants as they talk animatedly with smiles on their faces. That bond between a mother and daughter is completely foreign to me, since I never had that withmy own. Although I can imagine myself doing that with Fi. She’d be the woman I’d want to sit with at an outdoor table, pulling apart flaky croissants and talking about life and love.

I squeeze my eyes shut, blacking out the mother-and-daughter combo and when I open them, I stare at my nearly empty cup. Should I have another or take a walk near the river?

Church bells toll at Grossmünster, indicating the start of Sunday services. The melody always begins with the smaller bells, their higher-pitched tones dancing lightly on the air as if to say good morning. The music echoes off the walls of the nearby buildings and weaves through the streets. As the smaller bells continue their rhythm, a deeper, more resonant tone joins in—the Karls glocke. It’s the bell from the southern tower, the oldest and largest, and its sound is profound, almost like a heartbeat. Its toll always reaches into my chest, and right now it offers a grateful reprieve from my heartache.

A shadow falls across my table and I lift my head, assuming it’s the waitress checking on me. I blink as I take in the silhouette of a tall man, sun rays bursting from behind him and obscuring his face.

But only a moment before my head begins to swim.

Am I hallucinating or is Trey Blackburn staring down at me, his green eyes determined as they lock with mine?

“Holland,” he says tenderly, and my breath is carried right away as his baritone voice sinks into me.

“Trey,” I rasp, my throat dry. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t ask permission, merely pulls out the wrought iron chair perpendicular to me and settles into it. It’s as if everything else stills… the tolling bells, the bustling street noise… until it’s just us, frozen in the here and now.

Trey doesn’t answer my question but lets his gaze roam the area with intense concentration. When his attention comes back to me, he says, “It’s beautiful here.”

“Very,” I admit in a whisper.

He nods. “Seems like an amazing place to live and work.”

I have no clue where he’s going with this, but I’m compelled to admit, “It is.”

Trey nods again, glancing across the street to Bücherwelt, a small bookstore offering both classic and contemporary literature, art books and unique Swiss publications. I follow his gaze there and when his head turns back my way, I’m helpless… my eyes are drawn right back to him, although my voice doesn’t seem to be working.

Trey taps his finger against his chin and then shrugs. “Then I guess I’d be down with living here.”

That knocks me out of my stupor and I can’t help but come off as more offended than astounded. “Excuse me?”

Trey bobs his head, his eyes alight with determination as if this is the best idea he’s ever had. “Yeah… I’m sure I could find something here. I mean… hell, I waited tables to earn extra money, so I can do that. And I’m sure there are stables around. Didn’t you say you rode here? I’ll make enough to contribute to our joint finances and—”

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