Sometimes, no, most of the time, Florence really hated how well he knew her. Even before they'd become something more intimate, they'd known each other as friendly rivals. Well. Mostly friendly. And then they'd grown into better friends and then lovers and for years, he was the only person who knew her truly. If she'd known what he was thinking, she'd have to admit he was right about something else, too. Anatoly didn't know her as well as Freddie did, because she hadn't let him. Because she did catch what he'd almost said, and she knew. Letting him go had hurt them both. And she'd never let him know just what it had done to her to do so. Oh, sure, he saw his side of the story. And she'd let him, because she knew him. He needed that anger at times to fuel him. Thanks to his idiot parents, sometimes it was just necessary. But she didn't need to be on the receiving end of it. It had burned, but if she hadn't gotten away, how much different might they be?
Then again, she'd done so in an attempt to be more independent and what had it gotten her? Anatoly. Who'd cared for her, possibly even loved her, but still had a wife, and children, and a country fighting to get him back. Also no good for her. So she'd tried being on her own and all that did was land her in this crazy place. Fat lot of good that did.
Despite it all, there was something comforting about listening to Freddie talk about the game. Even if she pushed the subject matter away completely, it was nice. It was the one thing he truly talked about with a passion. So much emotion came out of him that it was easy to tune out the strange new world around her and listen to his familiar voice going on and on about his love for the game. Then he pulled out that hint of a teasing tone and she simply glanced up at him, her eyes probably happier than they'd been in a very long time. For a minute, it was exactly like it used to be, and it was nice. Really nice.
But then there was coffee. Nothing like home, of course. And talk of the nineties. A decade she may never experience, no matter how good or awful it might have been. "I don't even know what half this stuff is." It was right up there with those computers and cell phones. "Um. Vanilla. I know what vanilla is? How much could they possibly change that, right?"
Of course, then something else he said hit her and she looked sideways at him, shaking her head with a tired but amused smile. "You're paying, hmm? That's new." And since she hated looking helpless, she ordered exactly what Freddie had before her. Minus the cookie. Turning thirty was hell on the body.