He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge

by Alexandra Winter

  I grin and moan at every thrust as his body builds up to a climax. When it finally comes, he’s silent. Not even a groan escapes him. Then he falls next to me, wraps his arms around me, and draws me close.

  “I’ve never slept as close to anyone as I did with you,” he says and kisses my nose.

  I think back to the panic I felt when I woke up with my forehead on his. “Me either.”

  Cecilia’s instructions to me for falling in love were to stare into each other’s eyes for three minutes.

  Behind him, the alarm clock shows nine forty-six. I lay my hand on his cheek and gaze into his eyes, waiting for him to look away.

  As if he’s longed for this, he holds my gaze, revealing tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. “I feel I can share my deepest secrets with you.”

  “Me too.” I suppress laughter.

  By now, six minutes have passed, and the clock shows eight minutes to ten. “Let’s do that.” I caress his lips with the tip of my tongue.

  He whispers. “Share everything?”

  How else will I get you to love me?

  “Yes. Why not? Let’s be vulnerable together,” I say.

  Henrik hesitates before his wrinkles reappear. “Okay.” He kisses me, strokes my face, and smiles. “Sleep tight, sweetness.”

  Henrik wakes me up by kissing my eyelids, then moves his lips down to mine. His hair is loose, smelling of fresh shampoo, and tickling my skin. He’s dressed in worn jeans, a wrinkled shirt, and sneakers. “Take your time, relax, and enjoy breakfast.” He grabs his laptop. “I have to get to work.”

  “Have a great day.” I enjoy the smack of the door.

  A tingling sensation lingers in me.

  I guess this is why people have booty calls.

  Walking back down to the train station to catch my flight home, the sun gleams from behind a cloud and lights up Bergen’s white wooden houses aligning the cobbled streets. They’re not bad in sneakers. At the bottom of the slope, water glimmers on the sea.

  Cecilia was right about one thing. An orgasm did me good.

  I’ve entered the train and found a seat by the window when a message from Henrik pops up on my phone.

  Whaaat? You left already?

  I text back, smiling to myself, knowing he returned to the hotel to spend more time with me.

  Of course. Wasn’t I just summoned for a booty call? ;)

  I planned to have lunch together.

  Risky move. What if Katelyn or someone she knows saw us?

  I shake the thought out of my mind. He probably meant at the hotel room or no lunch at all but more sex.

  Next time let me in on your plans and we’ll enjoy more than just food the day after as well ;)

  I enjoy the train’s rocking movements. I haven’t flown since before Isac died. I haven’t been outside Oslo since the crash or had an orgasm since then, either. That might be the real reason I’m smiling to myself.

  The sun is shining and my body is a newly charged battery. My tension is gone. The slight headache bothering me for months has vanished.

  At home, I rip the tarpaulin off my outdoor furniture, put out the table, sofa, and umbrella, get pillows from the box by the wall, and bring my laptop outside. The air is fresh, but in Isac’s wool sweater, it’s warm and cozy.

  My teeth clench reading Katelyn’s latest message to Henrik.

  What should I pack for Italy?

  How did I miss this?

  I go through his calendar. Nothing. In Henrik’s email folder, I find ticket confirmations for a trip to Florence for him and Katelyn. It was a few days before our first date. It’s not in his calendar, but Cecilia did mention something about a trip when we started studying Henrik. Back then, I didn’t care. Now, I do.

  If I’m competing to win him over by New Year’s, a trip like that could tip the odds back in her favor. I thought I was competing against a single mom drowned in chores who’s pulling him into her world of sticky surfaces and demanding children who divert her attention away from Henrik. If she’s vacationing with him in Italy, though, she’ll have a chance to be more like the person I want to portray. Single and free.

  I switch off the computer, unpack my bag, and throw my lingerie in the washing machine. I get my running clothes from a box and head outside.

  My step is heavier than it was two years ago as I run past restaurants opposite my apartment in Helgesens Street. I cross a couple of roads and breathe deeper when my soles thump onto dirt instead of asphalt. Red and orange trees line the Akerselva River. Moist earthy scents linger in the air.

  Why did I ever give up running?

  Isac.

  Henrik caused his death, and the photo of Isac’s hand remains etched in my mind. I speed up, cross the wooden bridge, follow the path upstream. My heart pumps faster. I sprint up the hill alongside the first waterfall, past people walking their dogs and ducks quacking by the water’s edge. A steeper waterfall that runners use for high-intensity training lies ahead, and I speed up. Halfway, my legs feel like anchors, but I force myself to continue. The ground levels out. The taste of iron and blood fills my mouth. I spit to remove it but can’t.

  Doesn’t this guy have any feelings? His behavior doesn’t add up. He leaves Katelyn’s house for a night and pays for me to come to Bergen to spend it with him. He gets upset when he can’t have lunch with me the next day while, at the same time, he’s planning a trip with her to maybe the most romantic location in Europe.

  Is he completely lost?

  At Lilleborg, my legs cramp. I stop to do some light stretching before walking back home.

  After showering, a message from Katelyn starts my heart pumping again.

  Who’s Daniella?

  19

  Water drips from my hair but I’m glued to the screen as Henrik’s three dots show him typing his response to Katelyn’s message. And he’s fast.

  Friend. Why?

  She can’t be falling for that?

  When I forgot to bring my hairband to the bathroom with me the other day and came back into the bedroom to get it, you were texting someone named Daniella. You had a huge smile on your face and seemed to hide the phone from me as if you didn’t want me to see. I was too worried to ask about it then and tried to convince myself it was nothing, but I need to know because I don’t want to start our trip feeling anxious.

  I’m no longer saved as Skis?

  Henrik keeps his answers short and concise.

  Probably to not say too much that might incriminate him.

  Good

  Katelyn doesn’t let him off the hook that easy.

  But you’re sure nothing is going on between you? I talked to my friends about it and…I have to know.

  There’s a pause in the texting, and I’m waiting for Henrik’s response. When it pops up, I’m disappointed.

  She’s just a friend. Nothing to worry about.

  Of course you lied.

  Okay. I love you, and I’m sorry. Can’t wait to experience Florence with you.

  Me too, you’ll love it.

  You’re getting sloppy, and with her being suspicious, she won’t be as much fun.

  Henrik promised to be more open, but he never explains his trip to me. The closest he gets before leaving is mentioning that he’s going to Italy, claiming that he’s traveling alone. Since I don’t ask about it, he doesn’t elaborate.

  During the next few days, he sends me strategically arranged images of beautiful views, including one of a single Aperol Spritz on a table as if he’s having drinks alone. Like Unstad, he astonishes me by how well he covers his tracks. He acts like he’s alone and includes me in his activities. Each morning starts with his texts, and at the end of every day, he wishes me a good night.

  I miss you, sweetness. What are you up to while I’m gone?

  Every time he has traveled, I’ve made sure never to contact him, but this time I’m ready to call him out.

  Aw, I miss you too. Nothing special. Enjoying your trip?

  It would
be much better with you here with me. And if you’re not doing anything special, you can text me once in a while..? That would be nice.

  I think we can both appreciate that wouldn’t be a great idea.

  He logs off.

  Yes, darling. I know you’re not alone.

  I turn on my computer screen in time to watch him swipe through pictures he’s sent me, then he stops at his Aperol Spritz from two days ago. He zooms in, and although I can’t hear him, I imagine him swear as he sees a tiny shadow of Katelyn’s shoes in the low right-hand corner.

  I didn’t even see that. This is working out perfectly.

  When he gets home from his trip, he comes straight to my place. I don’t even have time to say hi before he pulls my sweater over my head.

  “You drive me crazy.” He kisses my neck, unbuttons his jeans, and pushes me into the living room towards my couch.

  To my surprise, I don’t want to fight him. It’s like my trip to Bergen woke my body up, and it’s found a way to feel alive again.

  “Here,” I say before I’m bent over and ravaged from behind. “Let’s test these.” My two barstools are the perfect height. I remove my bra and jump up, placing one foot on each seat, almost doing the splits. I lean into the backrests and hoist my skirt up, revealing that I’m naked underneath.

  He gasps. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

  “Good morning.” Henrik stretches out his tanned body. He grins as he lifts a lock of hair from my face. “I love you.” He kisses me.

  I can’t help but smile.

  One step closer to the finish line.

  I open my mouth to say it back to him. “I…” I clear my throat.

  You’ve said the words before, lie.

  “I…” I jump out of bed. “I’ll make us breakfast.” I rush downstairs.

  What the hell? Why can’t I say it? Three little words, that’s it.

  The last three words I told Isac before he crashed.

  The kettle is on and I’m stirring oats in a pot when the floorboards creak behind me. Henrik’s arms wrap around my waist from behind. “I wish you’d come with me to Italy,” he says and kisses my cheek.

  “Me too.” I echo his response to Katelyn. I kiss him, then prepare a cup of tea for us both. He’ll never ask about why I hinted at his cheating, like I’ll never ask Cecilia about why she didn’t comment on my empty apartment the night she barged in. Neither of us wants an answer.

  My phone rings and I run upstairs to get it.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Mom’s shouting about olive oil to Dad, forgetting to cover the phone, then comes back to it. “Daniella, how are you?”

  “My ears are ringing, but otherwise good. I have company. Can I call you later?”

  “A guest? Oh, how delightful. Who’s there? Not my business. I called to tell you about this cruise your father and I have talked about for Christmas, but if you’ll come celebrate with us, we’ll postpone it.”

  “I’m celebrating Christmas with friends. Take the cruise. You both deserve a break. I have to go.” I hang up.

  “Not telling your mother about me?” Henrik is leaning against the wall when I exit the bedroom. “I wasn’t listening. Just thought I’d bring you your tea. What are your parents’ names, by the way? You never told me.”

  “Anita and Erling.” I take the cup he’s holding out. “Have you told anyone about me?”

  “Yes. You haven’t?”

  Oh, right, your charming friend, Simen. Doesn’t count.

  He’s clearly fishing for validation, so I keep my grin and a flirtatious tone in my voice. “Maybe,” I tease, which turns into a loud laugh as I imagine Henrik’s look of horror if I told him Cecilia is the person I’ve been sharing stories with.

  Henrik keeps a straight face. “I haven’t been in love since I was eighteen, so I had to share with someone that I’ve met you.”

  Back in the kitchen, the oatmeal porridge is done, and I hand him his bowl covered in berries.

  He lifts his spoon but lowers it back down. “Could we agree not to sleep with anyone else?”

  I almost choke on my porridge.

  That’s your response to me busting you with another woman? My God, you’re hard work.

  “Are you sure?” I want to scream at him that he’s got a girlfriend in Bergen, but bite my tongue.

  “Yes. I’d like you to be my girlfriend, and exclusivity’s the first step.”

  A chuckle escapes me at the choice he must make, and I don’t know what to say. Either break a suggestion that he initiated, or tell Katelyn he’ll be staying at hotels from now on.

  He rolls his eyes. “Come on. I’ve already said I love you.”

  “I don’t think you know what love is.” I put a raspberry between my lips and wink at him.

  He frowns. “If you don’t want to be my girlfriend, that’s fine by me. It’s good to get it out of the way, though, because then I’ll just redirect my attention.”

  Yeah, right, you coward. You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t care.

  I lean across the table, push his bowl aside, grab his t-shirt, and pull him closer. “Nothing good comes from keeping your guard up.” Then I kiss him as passionately as I can. “Try vulnerability. It could change your life.”

  Come on, you moron.

  Puppy dog eyes peer at me. “Would you be mine? My girlfriend?”

  I need him to want to make an effort to fall for me, and by becoming his girlfriend, like Katelyn believes she is, I give him a resting pillow. “I have a hunch you have unfinished business before you’re ready to become my boyfriend. I’m not saying no, but I won’t say yes either before I feel you’re safe to say yes to. I can’t explain it, but we’re not there yet.”

  “Still got your guard up, huh?”

  Just like you.

  With his decision to choose a woman before the new year, this might be my chance to have him invite me to celebrate New Year’s Eve with him. “Oh, and regarding the whole girlfriend thing? Ask me again on New Year’s Eve.” My fingers unbutton his jeans. “Until then, let’s have fun.”

  He doesn’t ask. Instead, his attention is on unbuttoning my jeans, so I let it slide for now.

  After a week, we still haven’t talked about New Year’s Eve, but he made me promise to be exclusive, and he promised that too. While he’s at work, I catch up on his digital activities, and when he comes round in the evening, we cook dinner together and end up in bed. I’m a full-time hooker without him paying.

  When Henrik travels to Bergen for work again, I watch for the GPS location of his phone. No messages between Katelyn and him indicate that he’ll be staying at the hotel, but I can’t help but hope.

  I refresh, and the GPS shows him at her apartment.

  For fuck’s sake.

  Is he staying with her as a final good-bye, not having sex?

  I roll my eyes at myself for thinking this. Not sleeping with others was his idea, but there’s no way Henrik will stay with Katelyn and not have sex, is there?

  I scan through their messages and his texts but find no evidence of him having sex or not. He will expect me to keep my promise, though, so perhaps he’s kept his?

  A loud No echoes in my mind, but there’s still hope. If he hasn’t slept with her, and he’s told her that he doesn’t want to see her anymore, I’m winning.

  Am I going crazy from this? I’m starting to feel like I have split personalities.

  After the week is over, he texts me when he’s getting off the plane at Oslo Airport.

  Safely on the ground! That flight seems longer and longer every time it takes me away from you. Can’t wait to wrap my arms around you.

  Don’t want to think about your arms at the moment.

  Productive week?

  Very. Couldn’t help but think of our booty call when going to bed, though. We should do that again ;)

  Are you trying to convince me you stayed at the hotel? You sneaky bastard.

  Next time I might surprise you there, wearin
g only a trench coat and not much else underneath.

  Hopefully, that makes you rethink lying to me again about your location.

  If it does, it doesn’t show in his reply.

  Would love that

  My first instinct is to throw my phone at the wall and watch it shatter to the floor, but I contain myself. Instead, I shake my head.

  Fuck you!

  I put my phone on the desk, ready to turn the screen off and lock the office in case he stops by when a message from Katelyn arrives in his inbox.

  You seem a bit distant. I wanted to talk about it when you were here, but…why don’t you hold me after we make love anymore? Is everything all right?

  I turn the screen off. He’s not all right, he’s a troubled man, and Katelyn should be grateful for him not holding her.

  What am I doing?

  It doesn’t matter to him that I’m the best sex he’s ever had, that we both orgasmed three times in one evening last week. He still can’t let her go. Which only means it’s not sex, but something more.