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

by Hope Franke

  “Oh, ma Cherie,” Renata mimicked. “You are a worse romantic than I am.”

  Maurice returned and they ordered drinks. Katja excused herself conveniently with the guise that she had to use the ladies room. When she returned she chuckled. Her instincts were right. Maurice and Renata were in a close huddle, conversing animatedly over the noise of the chattering patrons and the music pumping in from the stereo.

  She mentally reviewed her to-do list. Renata + Maurice. Check.

  Once Katja decided to let herself be happy, she was very, very happy. She and Micah went on long walks and romantic picnics. They told stories and laughed. They hugged and kissed, and kissed some more. They cuddled on the sofa bed and watched romantic movies while eating candy and chocolates.

  She had a spring to her step and a smile plastered on her face. She constantly watched the clock, counting the minutes until Micah came home from work, resuming her place on the steps while she waited for him to round the corner.

  Renata gently teased her at work. “Schatz, you will blow out the windows with your joy.”

  “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Micah said on a Saturday morning. He pulled Katja close and kissed her neck. She groaned, stretching out for more.

  “I’m thinking high end,” he added between kisses. “Dress in something nice.”

  Katja straightened and pulled back. “I don’t have anything high end and nice.” He knew that.

  “Such a sad situation, tsk, tsk.” His eyes lighted with a humor she didn’t share. “Oh, come on, let me take you shopping.”

  This kind of thing just reminded Katja of why she’d been tempted to break up with him in the first place. She wasn’t a sophisticated fashionista like his mother or his friend, Anna, from the bank. She felt herself shrinking back. “I don’t know.”

  “Please, Katja. This isn’t a sun and moon thing,” Micah persisted. “It’s just a thing.” He smiled encouragingly. “It’ll be fun.”

  She hated shopping. “For who?”

  He smirked. “For me!”

  Katja reluctantly relented and quickly grabbed her purse. If he thought she’d change out of her torn jeans just to impress the fancy dress shop workers, he had another thing coming. He opened the door and followed her out, and Katja got the distinct impression he was enjoying the view of her behind by the way he chuckled.

  She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Stop that!” She tried to sound stern, but she could hear the smile in her voice.

  Micah laughed. “What?”

  He took her to a swanky shop in the center of the old town, a place Katja would never have stepped foot in on her own.

  Micah helped to sort through the dresses despite the clerk’s thinly veiled disapproval, and she tried on a number of them, showcasing each one for him. If she could judge by the look on his face, he liked what he saw. She was aghast when she checked the price tags, but Micah swiped playfully at her hands, telling her not to worry. He bought her casual clothes, too: jeans and blouses, and a short, fun sundress.

  Katja wasn’t used to having brand new clothes. She wondered if deep down Micah was trying to change her, and it stirred up feelings of doubt.

  But the clothes were nice.

  “You’re spoiling me,” she said.

  “I want to spoil you. You deserve to have nice things.” He quickly added, “And that doesn’t mean I’m trying to change you.” Micah continued to prove his knack for mind reading. Or maybe he really did know and understand her.

  “But,” he continued. “I do have money, and I do like to spend it on, well, you. So don’t try to change me by trying to stop me.”

  Touché.

  She gripped his hand, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  They went back to Micah’s flat to change and get ready. Katja chose the shimmery, little black dress. She examined her image in the bedroom mirror. With silver, strapped heels, and her hair piled in a messy up-do, she could easily pass for one of those uptown girls.

  When Micah checked in on her, his eyes popped, and his jaw slacked. Then he whistled. “Simply beautiful.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her, snapping her body to his. He rested his forehead on hers and inhaled.

  “You smell amazing.” His lips made a butterfly trail from her temple, over her cheekbone and to her lips as his hands explored her curves. She quivered under his touch, every neuron in her body resounding with a loud yes!

  He kissed the base of her neck in a way that made her knees give out. They fell on the bed, and she almost exploded. They kissed with a passion Katja had never experienced before.

  Still, there was a line Micah was not willing to cross. He ducked his head in the crook of her neck and took several long breaths. Then he pressed up on his elbow and stared at her. He ran a finger along her brow, pushing hair off her face.

  “You are so beautiful.” He kissed her forehead again. “But we have reservations.”

  She laughed. “I think I have to do my hair over.”

  He helped her off the bed. “Get to it then. We don’t want to be late.”

  He took her to dinner at a place that had valet parking, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and more cutlery around the plates than Katja knew what to do with. It was lovely and the dining experience, delightful. This was a life she could get used to, she supposed.

  Micah’s eyes never left her face. She blushed under his scrutiny.

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  “I can’t help it. You are so exquisitely stunning. All the guys in this place are sneaking looks, and half the ladies, too.”

  He smiled warmly and she smiled in return.

  Then he did something that made her heart stop. Micah stood, and suddenly he was kneeling beside her, a little black box appearing like magic in the palm of his hand. Her mind knew what was going on. She did watch American movies. But her heart refused to restart. She was certain she would faint. At the very least, she didn’t think she could stop herself from gaping unattractively. Her hand clasped over her mouth, and tears welled up behind her eyes.

  “Katja Stoltz, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Katja stared hard at him, unable to make her lips move. “Yes,” she finally mustered. Then she burst out laughing. “Yes! A million times yes!”

  The crowd in the restaurant cheered, and Katja threw herself into Micah’s arms.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too.”

  They kissed tenderly and then pressed each other away, keenly aware of the audience they’d acquired. They fed each other chocolate dessert, and Micah ordered Katja a glass of her favorite red wine. She ogled her ring finger, delighting in how the candlelight reflected off the diamond.

  They giggled like school children, and made plans.

  “Since you’ve obviously been thinking about this,” Katja said. “Do you have a date in mind?”

  “How does tomorrow sound?”

  She playfully smacked his hand. “Seriously?”

  He smiled crookedly. “I am serious, but, I concede it might take a little while to get a dress and all that. I’m okay with something small, unless you want big. Anything you want, Katja. Anything.”

  “Small is good,” she said. She really didn’t have anyone to invite other than her family and a couple childhood friends, Renata and Maurice, of course, and the few friends she’d made since moving to Dresden.

  She frowned. “Does your mother know?”

  Micah reached across the table and cupped her hands with both of his. “She’s well aware. I won’t lie and say she’s delighted, but she’s coming around. At the end of the day, she just wants me to be happy. And you make me happy.”

  And he made her happy. Extremely happy. Katja couldn’t remember a time when she felt so joyous, so giddy. One day soon she would be Frau Micah Sturm!

  After dinner, she leaned against Micah as he helped her back to the car park. She wasn’t used to walking in heels, and she gladly to
ok the opportunity to be assisted by Micah. She waved her diamond ring under the streetlamps, stopping to ooh and ahh over the gem as it sparkled in the light.

  It was a short drive to their flat.

  Their flat!

  It was the first time Katja had thought of the flat as anything but Micah’s. Surely it was time for his room to be their room, too. A thrill of excitement charged up her spine. Their passionate preamble to the evening had only been an appetizer.

  They walked from the car toward the apartment building, hand in hand, stopping every few steps to kiss and giggle. She couldn’t peel her eyes off his face.

  That was why he saw her before she did.

  Sitting on their steps.

  A woman with long, wavy, sandy blond hair.

  All the blood drained from Katja’s head, and her legs nearly gave out. She held onto Micah’s arm for dear life.

  Greta.

  Greta’s eyes scanned Katja from head to toe, and then zeroed in on Micah. “I see you have a type.”

  Micah’s face had lost all color, his eyes wide like he was seeing a ghost. He was, and so was Katja.

  Greta approached, and Micah gestured to Katja without looking away from the lost girl’s face. “Wait for me inside.”

  Katja didn’t want to leave him alone with her. “Micah?”

  “I’ll be in in a minute.” He waved her off, but it felt like a slap in the face. Greta was there, and she was dismissed.

  Her legs trembled as she went up the steps, but once inside, she slipped off her heels and raced to their flat at the top. Her hand shook as she fussed with the key to unlock the door. She ran to the living room window and looked down at the sidewalk below.

  Micah and Greta stood face to face a quarter-meter apart. He threw his hands about, saying something passionately. She put palms out to calm him. Their lips moved and Katja wished desperately she could hear what they were saying.

  She hoped he was telling Greta about her, how he’d moved on and fallen in love with someone else. She hoped Greta would walk away, a final goodbye, and that Micah would look for her in the window and give her an encouraging smile.

  Her heart dropped when they started walking down the street, side by side.

  No, wait! Where are you going? Katja’s lungs burned as she watched, the back of Micah’s curly head and Greta’s long hair flowing down to her waist. It could’ve been Katja and Micah. The similarities between Greta and her were striking. And terrifying.

  They disappeared around the corner, and Katja’s heart ripped in half. She collapsed into a chair.

  They wouldn’t be gone for long, would they? Micah wouldn’t leave her waiting. Of course not. He loved her. He wanted to marry her.

  Greta was my first serious girlfriend. I would’ve married her.

  Micah had loved her once. He’d slept with her. They had a history.

  Greta.

  What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she dead?

  Not that Katja wished anyone dead. She just didn’t want her fiancé’s ex to show up on the same night they’d agreed to be married. A low groan erupted from her belly. That woman had a way of ruining everything, and Katja hadn’t even said one word to her.

  She dragged herself to Micah’s room, and tore her dress off in a huff. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and returned to the living room window, her eyes searching.

  He just needed a few answers. He was in shock. She could understand that. He needed some time to process this twist of fate and sort through his emotions.

  But, he’d come back to her, right? He’d remember they were celebrating the beginning of their life together and come back to her.

  Where was he?

  Finally, when the anguish of not knowing where he was and what he was doing became too great, she tried calling and then texting, but he didn’t respond.

  The hollowness in her being was spreading. She wanted to believe in him. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Soon he’d be bounding up the stairwell, back to her.

  Like it always did in moments of extreme emotion, her guitar called to her. She unclicked the case and gathered it into her arms, caressing it gently. She strummed a melancholy chord, letting the simple beauty of the music soothe her. As the minutes ticked by and then the hours, words started to come.

  Don’t go now

  I know it’s late and the light is growing dim

  But I just like the way

  You feel beside me on the front steps, not yet

  Sing me one more song,

  The one about the girl who finds the whole wide world

  She stopped picking and put the pen down. Did she just hear footsteps in the stairwell? She waited. Nothing. The pain in her heart deepened, her sadness consuming her until she couldn’t bear it anymore. The aching, empty hurt gradually morphed into anger.

  Where was he? She was going to kill him when he got home. Right after she knocked off his ex. She knew she shouldn’t have let her guard down. She knew she was stupid to believe a boy like Micah could love a girl like her.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  And as quickly as the anger flared, it melted and the sorrow returned. Tears streamed down her face. Her sadness was thick and heavy like an entity of its own.

  Don’t go now

  I know it’s late and the dark is folding in

  But I just like the way

  Your fingers close around my hand, so grand

  And sing me one more song

  The one about the girl who finds the whole wide world

  The black sky turned deep purple, then bruised blue. Black birds cawed as the morning dawned. She fiddled with her ring, choking back the tears. Immense pain and anger wrenched her soul. How could he do this to her? How could he so easily leave her for Greta?

  Katja’s first instincts about Micah were right. He hadn’t moved on. She’d merely been a replacement for the person he really wanted, the person he thought he’d never find.

  She wept hard and long until every bone and muscle hurt as much as her heart, using up all the tissues in the box. She didn’t throw them in the trash, but left the messy pile like a bitter monument for Micah to find when he finally returned. She packed up her guitar and her bag, and tossed her ring into the fruit bowl before leaving.

  Katja wished she’d never met Micah Sturm.

  Katja’s first impulse was to run to the coffee shop, but it wasn’t open yet. Maybe it was a good thing. Saying goodbye to Renata would be too hard. She couldn’t bear even one more gram of pain.

  She kept walking, her mind in a fuzzy daze, and she hadn’t even realized where her legs had taken her until she arrived at the door of the Blue Note. She pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Of course the establishment was closed, too, this early in the morning. She collapsed on the steps and let her head fall into her hands. Her face was wet, and she wiped it with her sleeve.

  Suddenly, she was exhausted. Not sleeping a wink overnight and getting your heart stomped on would do that. She rested her head against the door and closed her eyes. Within minutes she was sleeping. Her dreams were a mashup of the day: shopping with Micah, dinner, his proposal. Her subconscious wanted to hold on to those memories, to hold on to Micah. Greta’s face would flash, and she’d cry out and pull back the restaurant scene so she could listen to Micah’s declaration of love once again.

  But she couldn’t fight the nightmare that followed: Greta and Micah under the streetlamp, walking away. Greta glancing back and shooting her a wicked look, like a shard of glass stabbing Katja in the chest, stealing her very breath.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  “Katja?”

  Maurice stood over her, a frown filling his round face. Katja blinked. Her mind was so busy torturing her, for a second she didn’t remember why she was sitting on Maurice’s steps.

  Then she did. It wasn’t just a bad dream. The whole thing was horribly real. A new lump filled her throat, and she had to work to swallow.

  Mau
rice reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. “What happened, ma Cherie?”

  Katja opened her mouth but the words didn’t come. It was too painful to speak the truth of what had happened aloud.

  “I’m here to say goodbye,” she finally managed.

  “You’re leaving?”Maurice asked, his frown growing deeper. “But why?”

  Katja worked to control her features. She must flatten out the pain. She didn’t want to blurt out what a fool she had been to anyone, but especially not to someone she respected. Besides, one word about it and she’d turn into a blubbering mess.

  “It’s just time,” she said.

  Maurice shifted awkwardly. “Come in for a drink first. I’m talking orange juice, though I have a feeling you really could use something stronger.”

  “You’re a prophet. Add a cup of coffee and you’re on.”

  Katja sat on a bar stool she’d sat on dozens of times and took in the shadowy pub with fondness. This was where she got her sea legs as an artist, where she tried out her new songs and developed confidence to keep playing. It was where she had introduced Renata to Maurice and watched their affection take root and grow. It was where she and Micah…

  No, she wouldn’t think of him. She shook her head, as if that would rid him from her thoughts.

  Maurice provided a glass of juice and a cup of coffee. “On the house,” he said, concern still deeply etched on his round face.

  She gulped back the juice, her throat parched from weeping. “Thank you. And thanks for everything else, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like letting me play here. For believing in me.”

  “That part was easy, ma Cherie. You’re very talented. And beautiful. And smart. As they like to say, you have the whole package.”

  She grimaced. A lot of good it had done her. She finished her coffee while watching Maurice clean the bar. He didn’t pry, and she was thankful.

  “Please say goodbye to Renata for me,” she said.