Sun & Moon: An Inspirational Contemporary Romance (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 1)

by Hope Franke

  “Look,” Micah said through tight lips. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. Your step-dad was being a belligerent imbecile. I didn’t have a chance to think it through.” He reached for her arm and tugged until he found her hand, then threaded his fingers through hers.

  “Your mother and sister were sweet. I’m glad I met them.”

  Katja’s gaze moved from their joined hands to his face. Could he really mean that? Did he not see the squalor they lived in? That she’d grown up in? Her mother couldn’t be more different than his fashion-conscious, high-powered mother.

  He came from a world of privilege and entitlement, she from poverty and neglect. He might not think it mattered now, but it would. One day it would, and then what would she do? When the day came that Micah rejected her, what would she do?

  A picture of her falling off the Augustus Bridge into the River Elbe flashed through her mind. The longer she stayed with Micah, the deeper the pain his parting would cause. Micah’s grip remained, but she let her fingers go limp.

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  Micah signaled and pulled sharply off the road. His dark eyes flashed with anger as he stared at her. “You’re not going to do this now.”

  She turned away, pinching her eyes tight. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Later, but not yet. Her lips tightened as they trembled. “You know I’m right.”

  He touched her shoulder. “Katja, look at me.”

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to get back, pack her things and leave.

  “Katja?”

  She swallowed and looked at him. The look of longing in his eyes almost killed her resolve, but she breathed in deeply and stared back with determination. “You know I’m right,” she repeated.

  “I know no such thing.”

  “You might not want to see it now, but one day you will.”

  “One of us makes the other one feel small and cold,” he quoted.

  “Like the sun and the moon,” she whispered back.

  “I thought I was the moon,” he said.

  “No. It’s always been me.”

  Micah sighed, then turned the Audi on and merged back onto the autobahn. The ride back to Dresden was quiet, the air between them, thick.

  This was it, Katja thought. The end of their romance. She should’ve known better. She should’ve guarded her heart. Micah Sturm was too good for her. She’d never end up with someone like him. Never.

  They entered Dresden and drove over the narrow, bumpy cobblestone road that led to Micah’s parking place. He stroked her arm, and she stiffened. If she looked at him, even for a moment, she’d dissolve into a puddle of tears.

  “I don’t want you to break up with me today,” he said. “I know you really want to, but you’re very emotional right now, and I think you should wait until you have a clear head.”

  “Our circumstances aren’t going to change by waiting,” she said.

  “Can you wait two days? If you still want to end things by Tuesday, I’ll accept your decision. Not happily, but I’ll respect it. I’m just asking for a two-day pause before we make anything final.”

  Katja’s chest squeezed hard. Dragging this out for two days would be like taking out stitches from a thick scar before it was properly healed. By yourself, without the assistance of a doctor.

  Micah’s eyes were soft and pleading.

  “I’ll still be the moon on Tuesday,” she said.

  “Maybe not,” he responded. “I’m feeling awfully small and cold right now.”

  If she loved him, she could give him this one last request. And she did love him. Her eyes tightened shut. Why did she let herself fall in love with this man? Stupid, stupid girl!

  “Okay,” Katja heard herself say. She needed time to find a new place anyway. Somehow she’d get through the next couple days. She felt so weak and worn, she really didn’t know how. She needed a miracle.

  Katja followed Micah up the stairs to his flat, waiting while he fumbled with the key to the door and then hesitated as she pondered where to go. Staying in Micah’s room felt too intimate, even though she slept there alone. Claiming the sofa bed again meant she had nowhere to hide. The formerly locked room was empty, but it had no furniture, unless she was prepared to sleep on the floor. She was exhausted, and that thought didn’t appeal to her. She begrudgingly traipsed to Micah’s room, closing the door behind her.

  She slumped on the bed and pushed her face into her pillow. Only then did she allow the tears to flow. When her heaving stopped and her waterworks had depleted, she slipped into sleep. It was early morning when she awoke with the dusty orange glow of sunrise fading out the dark windows. She was achy from sleeping in her clothes. Her mouth and face felt gross from being unwashed, and she had to go to the bathroom. She could only hope that Micah was still fast asleep and she could sneak down the hall unnoticed.

  No such luck. The blue glow of the TV filled the room. Micah reclined bare chested under the covers, leaning against the back of the sofa.

  He caught sight of her, and their gaze connected. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

  She gulped. He looked so appealing. Her heart and mind and physical being wanted him. She was anything but hungry. “No,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”

  She took her time showering. She brushed her teeth and blow-dried her hair. She kept her eyes averted when she stepped determinedly to her room. She couldn’t resist a quick look over her shoulder to the living room. The sofa bed was empty. Micah was gone. His absence underscored the loss she felt so deeply already, and a new swirl of grief consumed her.

  Katja went back to bed and slept in until almost noon. She could imagine Micah sitting at the table, working on his laptop and waiting for her to wake up, but she really hoped he wasn’t. She didn’t know how to face him after yesterday, and she wasn’t up for another fight.

  She needn’t have worried. If Micah had returned, he had left again. Maybe he went to church. He did that on Sundays sometimes. They managed to stay clear of each other for the entire day, and on Monday she called Renata and asked if it was possible for her to take a double shift. Fortunately, she said yes. It would keep her out of Micah’s flat for the evening, plus she’d make extra money, something she really needed now. She’d scour the papers for a new place to live. Maybe Renata knew of a place somewhere.

  She feigned a smile when she entered the coffee shop on Monday morning, not wanting Renata or the other staff to see the sadness that weighed her down. She could fool the others but not her boss.

  “Oh, Schatz,” Renata said as Katja strapped on one of the company aprons. “What happened to the happy girl who left for Berlin with her boyfriend?”

  On the word boyfriend, Katja’s eyes grew red and dumb tears leaked out.

  “Come with me,” Renata said. She guided her to the small staff room at the back. It was empty and Renata closed the door behind them. “Sit,” she said, and Katja did willingly. Her knees were watery, and her whole body felt limp like spaghetti. She had no idea how she was going to stay upright for the rest of the day.

  “What happened, Engel?” Renata said softly. Her eyes were gentle and kind, and Katja gave into the need to bare her burdens to someone. She told her the whole story of her day in Berlin.

  “Better just to end things now, even though it’s hard. It would only hurt so much more later on.”

  “Honey, you’ve been abandoned by your father, abused by your stepfather, and you’ve felt rejected by your mother. It’s natural that you fear Micah will do the same to you. But has he shown any sign of that? Has he said or done anything to make you believe he feels superior to you?”

  Katja paused at that. No, she couldn’t really think of anything specific. It was just logical, though. Only a matter of time. “Our stations in life are so different.”

  “Everyone is equal in God’s eyes, my dear.”

  Everyone may be equal in God’s eyes, but they weren’t in Frau Sturm’s. “You haven’t’ met his mother
. She doesn’t like me, and she’s very influential in Micah’s life.”

  “You’re afraid she’ll sway him?”

  “Yes.” And to help Renata understand more clearly, she described their meeting. “She’s a force of nature, Renata, a roaring lion. Compared to her, my mother is a timid mouse who spends all her time cowering in the corner.”

  “But, what are you?” Renata asked. “What are you?”

  A tap on the door interrupted them. “Morning rush, Schatz,” Renata said. She patted Katja’s hand like the burning questions in her heart had been answered. Had they?

  Thankfully, the busyness of the day kept Katja from constantly dwelling on her problems, and even though she felt like a hunchback in the spirit, in the natural she stood tall and wore a friendly face. She labored hard, especially when it was her turn to clean tables and sweep the floor. These physical tasks were minefields for her mind, and she had to work extra hard to keep her thoughts off Micah.

  She was in the back putting the cleaning supplies away when she heard Renata’s voice.

  “Katja, Katja!” Renata pranced toward her with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in her hand. “These came for you.”

  Katja froze to the spot. Renata held the flowers out—a mix of red roses, white daisies and sprigs of lavender—and Katja accepted them with a shaky hand. She read the card. “I love you. M.”

  I love you. His first declaration.

  Renata smiled like a mad woman. “You don’t have to stay the extra shift, if you don’t want to,” she said.

  Katja smiled shyly. Micah sent her flowers. He told her that he loved her.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  Katja decided not to stay for her second shift. She was really lucky that her boss was a diehard romantic. At least when it came to other people. Renata excused her with a pat on the back telling her to go make nice with her handsome boyfriend. Katja smiled at her enthusiasm as she carried the bouquet home.

  They were lovely, and the gesture was sweet, but could her objective to end things with Micah be swayed by a collection of flowers? There were bigger issues at stake. What was best for Micah in the long run? What was best for her? Were they the right choice for each other?

  She turned her key in the handle of the door of Micah’s flat and found it was already unlocked. That was strange. Katja was sure she’d locked it on her way out.

  Inside, she set the flowers on the table and went to Micah’s room to change out of her black and white uniform. She slipped into a pair of jeans—the only clean ones left were the ones with horizontal tears, exposing sections of her thigh—and her peasant blouse. She decided to keep her hair up in the high pony-tail the way she always wore it for work. The weather had warmed up over the weekend, and the afternoon sun pouring through the windows had heated up the flat.

  She wondered what she should say to Micah. What should her position be now? It wasn’t just the flowers that had made her waver in her decision to leave, but Micah’s note.

  Did he really love her?

  She already knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was hopelessly in love with him. It was the reason her choice was so painful.

  Her mind was thoroughly pre-occupied which was why she didn’t notice the figure standing in the hall on her way from Micah’s room to the bathroom.

  Katja jumped back, startled. “Frau Sturm?”

  The woman leaned against the frame of the bathroom door. That door had been closed when Katja had passed it the first time. Had Micah’s mother been here the whole time? She answered the question for her.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I have my own key to my son’s flat.” She added a moment later for emphasis, “too.”

  “What are you doing here?” Katja finally managed.

  “I wanted to see for myself if you were just a visitor like my son claimed.” Her eyes cut to the room Katja had just exited. Micah’s bedroom. “Or more.”

  Katja folded her arms in front of her. “And your conclusion?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me.”

  “I don’t intend to play anything with you.”

  “Look,” Frau Sturm said, tugging on her suit jacket. “We both know what girls like you want from boys like my son.”

  Katja stiffened. Girls like her? “And what would that be?”

  “Money.”

  “I’m not after Micah’s money.” Katja felt like she’d just walked onto the set of a bad daytime soap opera.

  “Oh, please. Look at you! And look at this nice roof over your head. Be honest. Where did you live before you came here?”

  Hot anger boiled in Katja’s stomach. How dare this woman?

  “Don’t bother trying to scramble up a lie. I already know. You slept on the sofa of a flat not leased by you. Before then you lived with your mother and stepfather in a GDR housing project in Berlin. You quit university before you finished your first year.”

  Katja felt sucker punched.

  “So,” Frau Sturm continued. “Let’s go back to the money. What will it take to get you to leave my son for good? Ten thousand euros? Twenty?”

  “Shall I just name my price?” Katja spit out.

  “Please do.”

  “I choose zero euro. Whatever Micah and I have, it has nothing to do with you. I will not be bullied or bribed. Believe it or not, money can’t buy you everything.”

  “Mother?”

  They both gasped at the sight of Micah standing at the end of the hall. Katja’s heart stammered. How much had he heard?

  “Micah, Schatz, hello.” Frau Sturm pulled her face into a friendly smile like she hadn’t just been caught belittling the girl in the hall. Her stilettos clicked on the floor as she moved to her son and kissed his cheeks. He stood still, not returning her affection.

  “I think you should leave,” he said.

  Katja couldn’t tell if he was talking to his mother or to her. She stepped back toward the bedroom. Micah caught her eye. “Not you.”

  He guided his mother to the front door. Katja could hear their muffled voices from her position in the hall.

  Frau Sturm switched to English. “This is a mistake.”

  “Then it’s my mistake.”

  “She’s just like…”

  “Mother!”

  “And what is that thing in her lip?”

  Katja scowled and pulled her lip ring into her mouth with her teeth. She was tempted to storm out past the two of them and make a big scene, but a part of her didn’t want to give in to Frau Bully.

  The door shut loudly, and in the next moment Micah was back, staring at her again, an apologetic expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t know you. She’s just really protective of me.”

  Katja rolled her eyes.

  “I bought groceries,” he said. “Can I make you dinner?”

  “Micah.”

  “It’s not Tuesday yet. If you leave tomorrow, this will be our last night. At least have dinner with me.”

  Micah’s eyes were so kind and pleading. Katja felt her anger melt a little. “You’ve made dinner for me so many times.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “It’s your turn to make it.”

  She snorted. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “No, actually. And I’d like to see you live another day as well. I think you need a lesson.”

  She folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “You think you can teach me to cook?”

  He cocked his head. “I’d like to try.”

  Katja couldn’t resist Micah’s charms and had, against her better judgment, agreed to the cooking lesson. What she needed was to hide away from Micah, to somehow escape the undeniable pull he had on her. Instead, she’d just signed up for more emotional torture.

  She was her own worst enemy.

  Micah scooped up the remote and turned on a satellite radio station that played soft jazz. Katja silently moaned. Romantic
music? She really was in trouble.

  She followed Micah into the kitchen where he turned on the taps and washed his hands. He offered her the soap. She tried to keep her distance, but there was only one tap, and Micah didn’t seem to be in any hurry to finish rinsing his hands. She kept a good half meter between them and stubbornly waited until he left his position by the sink. “What are you going to teach me to make?”

  “Something simple. Pasta with braised vegetables and sheep cheese.”

  “Well, we both know I’m lousy at cooking pasta. What’s the big secret?”

  Micah smirked. “Slow down, young chef. One thing at a time.” He opened a cupboard door. “First, you need the right pot. Uncooked pasta must have room to expand. You want to cover it with water without filling it more than three-quarters full. You don’t want it to boil over.”

  Hmm. That was one of her problems. She obviously didn’t use the right pot, or enough water. Good to know.

  Micah handed her the pot, and she filled it, and placed it on the stove, turning the element to high. “Where’s the pasta?”

  Micah removed a package from his grocery bag. “It’s here, but you don’t want to add it until the water’s boiling. In the meantime, we can wash and slice the vegetables.” Micah produced a small amount of fresh mushrooms, a zucchini and a package of grape tomatoes. Katja washed them and returned them to the cutting board.

  The kitchen wasn’t that big, and Katja found it difficult to move without brushing against Micah at times.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  He stared down at her. “Please, don’t be.”

  She started slicing the zucchini at the thickness Micah had shown her. Being in close quarters like this might be torture, but she appreciated the lesson. No one had taken the time to teach her how to cook before.

  “Now we’ll sauté the zucchini and mushrooms in butter,” Micah said while scooping a spoonful of butter into a frying pan. “Turn it on medium, and throw them in.”