Once more out in the sun, Elle felt relief wash over her. She let her father hand her into the car and unlocked his door for him.
Effortlessly, he slid behind the wheel. “I was thinking we might have lunch,” he said.
“All right,” she said.
“I know a place.” He pulled out into traffic, sliding in with controlled grace. “Have you talked to Joachim?”
Elle shook her head. The question initiated the anxiety she’d been feeling since their separation almost twenty-four hours ago. Once debriefed in Greece, Joachim had turned himself in to the BND to plead his case. In the end, he’d pointed out that the only way he could be with her and make his family safe was to square things with his past as much as he could.
Neither of them knew when they would see each other again.
“He did the right thing,” her father said.
“I know,” Elle replied unhappily. “But there’s no guarantee that they’ll believe him. Or any idea of when they will release him.”
Her father looked at her. “Do you love this man?”
Elle returned his gaze and shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know for certain is that I want the chance to find out.”
“He was a bad man.”
Elle laughed at her father. “I can just imagine how Mom sat around daydreaming about the day she could marry a spy.”
“Maybe I was not such a prize, then.”
She squeezed his arm. “You were. You are. The two of you made it work. That’s all that counts.”
“It is,” he agreed. Her father grinned, and somehow seeing him happy lightened her mood. “You have to work at it, though.”
“I know. I’m still working at a relationship with Sam. We’re still working at it. It’s never going to be easy, but we’ll manage.”
His cell phone rang. He said yes twice, then hung up and slid the instrument back into his pocket.
Elle looked at him.
“Confirming reservations,” he said. “The place I’m taking you to is very specialized.”
A few minutes later, they pulled into a small parking lot beside a restaurant that looked pre-World War II. Gingerbread surrounded the windows and the eaves, making it look like they had somehow stepped back in time.
Her father let her out of the car.
“Elle,” a familiar voice called from behind her.
Heart leaping, Elle turned around and saw Joachim standing there.
He wasn’t in shackles as she’d last seen him. He wore slacks, a jacket and a turtleneck, looking much different than at any other time Elle had seen him. His face still held a few bruises, but he was freshly shaved.
She walked toward him and he met her. She kissed him and felt his lips burn against hers. His arms wrapped around her and she felt the strength of him, solid and reassuring.
“Ahem,” her father called. “They are very strict about their reservations here.” He tapped his watch.
Breaking the embrace, Elle looked up at Joachim. “The BND released you?”
“After I agreed to give evidence against Günter.” He held her hands as if afraid to let her go. He couldn’t stop smiling. “They have him in custody already, and my family is being protected.” He glanced at her father. “It appears your father still has favors from the old days that he can call in.”
Her father shrugged. “It is a gift. What can I say? But I tell you, reservations for this restaurant were far harder to come by.” He shooed them toward the door.
Leaving Joachim for a moment, Elle joined her father, embracing him and kissing him on the cheek even though she knew it would embarrass him. “Did I ever tell you,” she whispered, “how lucky I have always felt that you are my father?”
“Often.” He held her and kissed her forehead. “It is a very hard thing to live up to, you know. All these expectations.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to have the server open a bottle of champagne to let it breathe.” He looked meaningfully at Joachim and held up a handful of fingers. “You have five minutes to bring her to the table. And if things turn scandalous out here, I’d rather eat my lunch alone.” He turned and went into the restaurant.
“Come here,” Joachim said, taking her in his arms again and holding her tight. He kissed her long and hard. Then looked at her. “What is your father’s definition of scandalous?”
“I don’t know,” Elle told him. “But we have five minutes to explore the possibilities.”
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