I want him dead. I just don’t like the unknown. If I only knew where the bastard was, what Henrik was doing, I’d be fine. Not knowing is the worst state to be in.
Outside, the moon peeks out from behind a cloud. The light reflects in large falling snowflakes, making it look like glitter in the darkness. When the moon disappears behind another cloud, it’s as if someone has plastered a black film on the windows. The comfortable solitary feeling I normally have in these woods is becoming increasingly creepy.
Is he out there looking at me? Is this a game to him, to see if I’ll come searching? If so, he’ll be disappointed.
I close the curtains, which only makes me feel silly. What if Henrik is watching? It’s not like he hasn’t seen me before.
He proposed. I’ve got him where I want him, and there’s no need keeping up appearances anymore. I have to get through one more night before going home.
What if he doesn’t return, though? Did he leave the car keys, or did he still have them in his pocket when he trailed off?
I pour another glass of wine and check the entryway. No key.
Now Henrik has to return, or I’m stuck. Hiking back to the main road to call the rental company to either get the car started or towed back to Oslo is not how I want to end my trip.
Henrik’s bag sits on the bed. I root through it in case he’s dropped the key in there, but I find his wallet beneath his clothes instead. His cellphone is missing, though. He’ll have to walk far to find a signal.
I place the bag back in the exact same position I found it when a knock on the door nearly causes me to drop my wine glass over it. Looking out the window above the couch, it’s black. I see nothing.
“Who is it?”
“Funny.” Henrik’s voice is shaking. “P-P-Please let me in, I’m freezing.”
I unlock the door to find him pale with blue lips. “What on earth?” I pull him inside, drag his jacket and shoes off before placing him in the armchair in front of the fire. “What were you thinking?”
Shit, you’re cold.
In a quivering voice, he stutters. “I wanted to give you your space but must have taken a wrong turn and ended up in a deserted cabin area.”
You idiot.
I pull his sweater, pants, and socks off. I get two blankets and wrap one around his body and the other around his feet before massaging them. My hands stiffen from the cold radiating from his skin. It’s as if his bones are frozen underneath, making it impossible for me to heat him up as he cools me down instead. “Oh, for the love of…” I pull him even closer to the fire and lay his feet on the edge. “I’ll get you a cup of tea to warm you from the inside. Don’t you know anything about wandering in the mountains? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
He doesn’t respond.
When I hand him the tea, he stares into it before lifting his face, his eyes analytical, lips quivering. “Tell me about your ex.”
“What?”
He blows on the hot liquid. The movement of the steam matches the shaking of his body. His brows are pinched. “I need to know. I’ve shared my entire life story with you, but you’ve hardly shared anything.”
“Let’s concentrate on getting you warm. If not, we have to go to the hospital. I’ve been drinking. You’re in no state to drive when you can’t even feel your feet burning up.” His toes are scorching hot, and I withdraw my hand. “You don’t feel that?”
“A little. I’ll be fine.”
I put his feet in my lap as I sit on the raised hearth. “How about this?” I flick his big toe, and a crack sounds from the top of his foot. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
“That…I felt that.”
“Good.”
He sips his tea, grimacing as the hot liquid runs down his throat. “You didn’t answer.”
“And I’m not going to.” I massage his calves to force the blood circulation to his feet, like mom used to do.
Henrik looks at the floor. “I’ve told you everything!”
“That was your choice!” I have no idea why I’m screaming at this point, but I’m so angry with him I can’t stop myself. “You tell me you’ll be a good husband. That you’re a good man? You can’t even take care of yourself. Look at you.”
My point is to make him see how pathetic he is, but as we both take in the scene, his shivering lips turn up in a smile. “I see you loving me.”
I don’t love you! I hate you.
“You are a horrible person!” My hand goes to my mouth, covering it up.
Shit.
He speaks in a calm voice while slurping his tea. “Not anymore. I understand you’re scared to love me if your last boyfriend died.”
“Husband.” I’m unable to stop myself. It’s as if my soul has reached a limit of lies. I can’t hold back the truth anymore. My grip tightens on his calf and he jerks.
“What?” Henrik pulls at his feet, but I hold them back. I need him at a distance.
I stop massaging his legs and lay my hands on his feet instead. “We were married. Isac was my husband.” My eyes water. Henrik places his tea on the floor next to his chair and holds out his arms for me to crawl into, but I don’t move.
“I don’t need you to comfort me.” I grab his right foot and squeeze my knuckles into the sole.
He squirms but doesn’t ask me to stop. “What happened to him?”
I push from the heel to the bone of his big toe, the cold skin rolling with my motion. I try to come up with a lie, but can’t think of anything other than his car crash. And since I can’t tell him about that, I say the next best thing. “It’s none of your business.”
“Fuck it is. I love you, and you’re hurt by this. You call me an island? You’ve locked yourself so far off that you no longer see land. Of course it is my business.” He pulls his feet back, lunges forward, and grabs my waist. Just like he did on our second date when we watched TV on my sofa, he jerks me back. I land on his chest.
I push to get away, but he holds on while I scream, “No, it’s not! You’ve meddled enough in my family. I won’t have you infect our life too.”
His grip loosens. “Our life? As in the one you had with your husband?”
Fuck!
“I don’t want you involved.” With my palms on his chest, I force my weight off him.
But he grabs me again, hugging me tightly. “No, that would be dreadful. To involve the man who loves you. The man you say you love. What a nightmare to let him comfort and support you.”
“Let me go!” I struggle, but he’s too strong.
“Let me in!” He holds me, refusing to let go.
Although he’s not wearing any fresh perfume, he still smells of oak and citrus, and I want to be angry, furious with him, but I can’t hold back. I grit my teeth, but the tears push into my eyes, and my floodgates open.
He strokes my hair and exhausted, I relax in a way I haven’t since before Isac passed.
A sigh escapes him from deep within. “You’ll never lose me. I’m here.”
I must have dozed off because I wake later as he carries me into bed.
He tucks me in and kisses me. “Good night, my love.” He lies down beside me, holds me through the night, and I sleep like a baby.
31
On Sunday morning, we leave the cabin. Wind pulls snow up into the air, and a rainbow spreads around the sun on the lake as we begin our drive home.
A snowbow.
Henrik has proposed, and I’ve reached my goal. I hold my arm out, inspecting the bracelet. Now I can say goodbye, break his heart, and get him out of my life for good.
And get back to my plan.
I can’t simply have him drop me off, retrieve the keys to the cabin, and tell him to get lost. I want to see his face as I reveal what I’ve done. Have him realize I’ve pretended all along, that nothing was real, even show him my office and my plans.
Is creating a PowerPoint presentation taking it too far?
In my peripheral view, his eyes dart over to me, trying to make c
ontact while he beams at the way I admire his mother’s bracelet.
“Any thoughts on my proposal?” He takes my hand and squeezes it as a loving gesture to defuse the expectancy in his voice.
I struggle not to snatch it back. “Yes.” I grin like an idiot. “I’ve given it some thought and will continue to do so.”
“Oh.” He shifts in his seat. “I don’t want to push you, but any notion on when you’ll give me an answer?”
When I reveal the truth about our history together, how I threw up after our first kiss and played you like you’ve played every woman you’ve ever dated.
“Tomorrow?” I make sure to keep my voice as flirtatious as possible while considering how to get rid of him tonight. “I’m tired,” I say. “The last few days with my birthday, this trip, and your proposal. It’s been a lot. I’ll head straight for bed when I get home.”
“Good idea.” He turns on the radio and hums along.
When Henrik stops outside my apartment, it’s dark. I push myself from the car seat to the pavement to avoid the slush in the street. My hope of him taking the hint to leave since I’ll go straight to bed shatters.
“I’ll return the rental. Why don’t I make us dinner after and we’ll talk?” He lifts my luggage from the trunk.
I shake my head. “No.”
At this point, I don’t care if he thinks I’m insane. I don’t want this killer in my apartment until I’ve constructed a plan.
Last night, I fell asleep in his lap in front of the fireplace. I have to keep my mind on the goal.
Henrik proposed, but I can’t end it tonight. I’m exhausted. The women he’s hurt by never giving them an answer as to why he’s dumped them didn’t deserve it, but he deserves to wait in the insecurity of the unknown himself.
The front door is blurred and spinning. To gain control of my dizziness, I grab my bag from him. “I need to be alone.” I hold my other hand out. “The key to the cabin, please?”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I shut him down. “This is not a discussion. I don’t want your company tonight. Key, please.”
“Wait…what?” The key chain jingles as he pulls it out of his pocket. “Are you all right? Did I say something?”
Like clutching a cymbal, the key stops dead in my hand. “Yes, you did. Don’t call me.” I head inside, holding my head high. As the door slams shut behind me, I turn to ensure Henrik isn’t following me inside, but he’s not there. I run up the stairs, unlock my front door, and throw my bag into the hall. It slams into the wall.
I did it. In only six months, I’ve fooled the man who killed my husband into loving me. All that’s left now is to break his heart like he broke mine when he killed Isac. For that, I need all the energy I can save up and a clear head.
I unpack, start a load of washing, and find myself hypnotized at the sight of my clothes rolling around in there.
Henrik doesn’t like to fold clothes when they’re dry either.
I shake my head to get the thought out. I’m done thinking about Henrik.
Outside, huge snowflakes descend from the black skies outside my living room windows. I move Cecilia’s plant from the kitchen counter to the dining table and consider calling her. We did it after all. We tricked him into loving me.
She should know. I pick up my phone but stop before calling.
She didn’t want me to push it any further, and I don’t want her moral speech. I’ll call her tomorrow instead, and I turn my phone to silent.
I’m lying on the couch when the doorbell rings. I ignore it and turn over instead. The only person eager to visit me now is Henrik, and he can wait.
“Daniella!” Cecilia shouts from outside. “Are you there?”
Why do you always show up when I least want you to?
Four missed phone calls light up my phone when I press it to see the time. It’s eleven in the evening.
This better be important.
I buzz her in and open the front door, but instead of waiting for her in the hallway, I go back to my couch.
Please don’t push me to be kind to Henrik. I’m in no mood for that conversation. I want to be done with hurting him and move on.
My ears perk up as if preparing to flee at the first sound of danger. In the hallway, the door shuts, shoes are kicked off, and the hanger taken off the rod, then hung back with a heavier sounding clunk. “Where are you?”
“Here.” I raise my hand from behind the back of the couch. All I want to do is bury my head in a pillow and wake up tomorrow.
Cecilia pushes my feet off and sits next to me. “So? Any updates?”
“You couldn’t call to…” I stop myself. She did call several times. “You came over to ask about that now?”
“I hadn’t heard from you.”
I shrug to make it appear like it’s no big deal. “Henrik proposed.”
“You did it.” Her voice seems genuine, happy for me. Maybe for him?
This throws me off. “Why did you make me do this?”
“Do what?” Cecilia shifts in the seat, her knee pointing toward me.
I shuffle back. “Date him. You said you loved him, yet you wanted me to date him and break his heart. But when I visited you, you were on to the next guy. Why?”
She smiles. “It was your turn to have him.”
“Excuse me?” I put a pillow in my lap as subconscious protection.
“You asked me why I pop up all the time.” Cecilia slides closer to me. “I had to give you a purpose.”
What the hell are you talking about?
“Come on. You must have figured it out by now.”
I get up and drop the pillow next to her. “I’m not in the mood for a guessing game.” I pass her and fill the kettle with water.
Cecilia follows me into the kitchen, taking out a mug from the cupboard. “The first time we met, I told you how important it was that you read the grief group contract thoroughly, that we do things differently.”
What does this have to do with anything?
“It wasn’t easy showing up in the first place. Then you told me to go home to read and sign that insane contract?” I roll my eyes demonstratively, wondering what her point is. “It’s not like I sold my soul. It’s a grief group.”
“Not your typical grief group, though. Two weeks later, I stormed in here when you wouldn’t open the door.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect that from any other group.” Water boils and steam rises from the spout. “But that’s what I don’t get. You seemed desperate for me to help you with Henrik, to find out if he cheated. Then a few days later, you didn’t care, and now I’m stuck feeling that I care, and I don’t want to.”
She smiles, satisfactorily. “I didn’t come to get your help with Henrik.” She pulls out a turmeric tea bag from her pocket and drops it into the mug. “Drink this. It’s good for you.”
“Thanks.” I pour in hot water. “But what are you talking about? You pushed his messages in my face.” I lean on the counter.
“I hoped you’d be open to talking, but after a few years in this business, I recognize when there’s nothing left to talk about. Henrik was the only person I could think of at that moment that was smooth enough to charm you and get you to start healing. You wanted to get rid of me only to kill yourself. I panicked.”
What? You knew!
I step away from her and my tea. “I wasn’t…I mean…what gave you that idea?” I stop. The cold temperature, the plastic underneath the dining table, the echo from the emptiness of the apartment. “That’s why you didn’t comment on how empty the apartment was?”
“I thought I could buy time,” Cecilia says.
I want to argue or lie, but I’m too tired of pretending, and from the exasperated look on her face, it’s no use. “How did you know? I never told you, or anyone.”
“I know that facial expression.” Cecilia looks up at me, then walks over to the dining table.
Of course you do. You’ve had the grief group for years. I can’t be the f
irst person to give up.
A chill runs through me as my mind tries to connect the dots of what she’s saying.
Upon arrival, knowing I hadn’t brought a signed copy, Cecilia handed me a new printed copy of a thick contract to sign. She told me to take it home, read it, and return to the next group gathering with it signed. I signed it without bothering to care what it entailed and then joined the group. After the session finished, I threw the contract in the trash on my way home, knowing I’d never return.
Cecilia gestures to the plant. “I practically forced you to take the peace lily home.” She laughs at the memory.
“To take care of another living organism, right?” I pick my mug back up but stay by the counter.
“Not really.”
“No? Then why did we get it?”
“Please hear me out. Clients tend to get upset, but once you understand, you will calm down.”
Calm down?
“You’re creeping me out here.”
“I’ve run my support group for eleven years.” Cecilia sits, and I join her at the dining table, unable to take my eyes from the plant in front of her. She pushes it over to my side. “I wanted to make sure I could catch people like you who don’t see any point in living on after a loss. I wanted to change their minds about ending their life.” She takes a deep breath as if preparing to detonate a bomb. “Inside the bottom of the pot is a secret slot with a server which gives me access to your network, computers, and phone.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right.” As if she could ever know how to do that.
Cecilia doesn’t laugh with me. “From the moment you brought this plant home, I’ve seen, heard, and tracked everything you’ve done, including the places you’ve been.”
I snicker at this, waiting for her to admit it’s a joke, but she doesn’t. Instead, she waits.
You’re not kidding.
I grab the plant, then smash the pot on the table. From inside, a small circular hard drive falls out. “What the hell?”
Cecilia stands and backs up, wary of the strained tone in my voice. “It states in the contract you signed that you give my company permission to monitor you.”
He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge Page 24