They didn't need to hide anymore. They didn't need to fake indifference anymore. He had offered her coffee and she had accepted it. They both knew exactly what it meant. They « just » had to say it now. Not the easiest.
So, the next morning, they just met near Cristina's bench. They shyly smiled at each other then sat in silence. Burke slightly turned to allow himself to stare at the beautiful woman who was next to him, playing nervously with a sleeve. He could finally enjoy it and felt weeks of frustrations fly away as he was examining her delicate features. She wasn't looking at him but he could see her eyes shine with excitement and uncertainty. Burke knew someone had to talk. Or Cristina may run away. Despite the coffee. Despite her coming here today to meet him. But he couldn't think of something significant to tell her. Words, sentences, were melting in his head. He called it the « Cristina effect ». When she was next to him, he was now longer the Preston Burke he used to be. The professional, rationnal man. When a butterfly's wings creates tiny changes in the atmosphere, a tornado appears at the back of beyond. Cristina was his colourful butterfly and she had created many hurricanes in his life.
« Since when have you noticed me ? »
The question was softly and quietly asked. He hadn't expected her to first talk. A single sentence, and she had managed to comfort and throw him off balance.
« I don't know. Quite a long time… »
He smiled at her and waited a little. Cristina was still looking at him. He could have lost himself into these eyes. But she needed to hear more. He could still read her.
« The first time I saw you, I thought I was having an awake dream. I was running in the park and suddenly I saw wild curly black hair in the corner of my eye. When I turned back, you weren't there anymore. Because I couldn't doubt it. It was you. I would have recognised any tiny bit of you, anywhere in the world. »
He paused again. He didn't need to ask her why she wanted to know all these things. Because he had asked all these questions to himself when he had understood she came daily to catch a glimpse on him. He had found the answers with the time. He knew why they both came here everyday. She just needed to hear it. She wanted to know she wasn't the fool of the story. Both of them were.
« I came back everyday. Even when you weren't there. I noticed you, glancing at me from your bench. Yesterday, I understood you had made the first step here, so I had to do the next. But, actually, the first time I saw you here, I was mad at you. »
He felt Cristina flinching at his words. Her look had suddenly changed from expectation to fear. The panic he had seen in her eyes the day before, when he had surprised her, was back. What had he done ? How could he have turned this stubborn, confident and competitive tiger into a broken and scared kitten ? He had hurt her much more than he guessed, blinded by his own pride, anger and stubborness.
« Cristina… », he said softly, trying to reach her gaze. What words couldn't express, their eyes had always managed to do it. He had moved his face closer to hers and could feel her chaotic breath warming his skin. With his right hand, he gently raised her chin so she couldn't do anything but look at him. « Don't worry Cristina », he whispered. « You don't have to worry anymore. There will be an happy ending to this. » He retained his breath, looking for understanding in her eyes.
