She started to untie her apron; his eyes fell on her narrow waist.
“Are you working some more?” she asked. “Could you lock up? My dad is waiting, and I’m late.”
“Of course,” he said, ashamed that he might have held her up. “Go on.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Peter switched off the lights. He set the alarm and took the elevator down. When he came out onto the street, Gina was standing on the sidewalk. She was on the phone. She hung up, sighed deeply, and caught sight of him.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She frowned. “Dad called. There are no trains to Tensta tonight. Someone threw fireworks into the tunnels so they’re all full of smoke. I don’t know how I’m going to get home.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “There aren’t any replacement buses. And my dad’s having a bad evening, so they haven’t eaten, and I need to study too.” She shook her head. “Shit.”
He was on the verge of saying that she could just take a taxi, but he stopped himself in time. “I can give you a ride,” he said. It was impulsive, but as soon as he had said it, it felt right. He had the car, after all. He drove it to work every day, thinking that he might go play some tennis, but he never had the energy. And it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him at home.
“Why?” She looked suspicious.
“I can see you’re worried about your dad. It’ll be quicker.”
She looked hesitant now. She was wearing a thin jacket and had knotted the belt tightly around her waist. When he cautiously glanced at her, he saw that she was bare-legged, wearing thin canvas shoes.
“You’ll be home in fifteen minutes,” he said persuasively. “The car’s around the corner, and I’ll drop you off outside your door.”
She pulled at her lip hesitantly, but Peter could see he had won. She nodded curtly. “Thanks, that would be great.”
They walked the short distance to the street where his car was parked. Peter fished out the keys. If Gina was impressed by the shiny, light gray Mercedes, a brand-new sports model, she said nothing. Peter unlocked the car and opened the door for her. She slipped into the passenger seat.
Peter started the engine and steered out into traffic.
“Music?” he asked.
She shrugged, and he hesitated, didn’t want to put on something she was too polite to say she hated. “Why don’t you choose the station,” he said, solving the dilemma. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gina’s slender fingers at the controls. She paused at a commercial channel, and soft eighties music washed over them. He wondered whether she’d even been born in the eighties.
“Do you like your job?” he asked, grimacing at his question. She was a cleaner. Of course she didn’t.
“It’s okay, actually. It’s hard work, but I can work independently.” She looked down at her lap.
“You said you were going home to study?”
“Yes.”
Peter waited, but she offered no further information. He turned off at Norrtull, signaled, and continued north.
“Medicine,” she said after a moment. “At KI. Karolinska Institutet.”
“Enjoy it?” He had hated school, all those letters dancing on the page, and his father’s constant disappointment, the endless comparisons with his brilliant siblings. Natalia, with her head for figures, and Alexander, with his charisma and flashes of genius. Both of them had been moved up a grade in primary school. Peter had needed to fight just to pass.
“I’m only in my second semester, but I always dreamed of being a doctor, and I love it.”
“I can hear it in your voice. But managing a cleaning job at the same time—” He knew people who had read medicine; they had studied almost constantly, as far as he remembered.
“I have to. I don’t want to take out a student loan, and my family needs the money.”
Peter’s own concerns suddenly struck him as being first-world problems. Did she support her father and her little brother? All while she studied medicine?
“How old are you, Gina? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Twenty-two.”
He tried to remember what he had been doing the spring he turned twenty-two. Partying. Going on ski holidays. He’d been given a million kronor in shares as a birthday gift.
“Turn in here,” she said, pointing to an exit.
He made his way through Tensta, following her instructions. He pulled over when she told him to, and resisted the impulse to get out and hold the door open for her. For some reason, he suspected it would bother her.
She leaned back into the car. “Thanks so much for the ride,” she said. He could see that she felt uncomfortable. It was an unusual situation.
“It’s no problem,” he answered honestly.
She flashed him a quick smile before she turned to go. Peter waited. He saw her open the door and disappear into the tall, gray building. He waited for a while, to see if he could work out which floor she lived on. No lights came on.
Chapter 19
Alexander waved to Natalia, who was waiting for him with the stroller by the bridge onto Djurgården, the Royal Game Park, a lush island in central Stockholm. Djurgården was home to yacht harbors, extensive stretches of forest and meadows—a favorite recreation area. He and Natalia used to come here when they were young. Had Peter come also? Alexander couldn’t remember.
Natalia waved back, and when he reached her, he gave her a big hug.
“Everything okay?”
Natalia pushed her dark hair from her face and smiled at him. “I’m glad you called. David’s gone to the office for a few hours, and it’s nice to get out.”
“So you only have time for me when your husband is doing something else?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You only want to see me when you need something, so don’t try to guilt trip me.”
Alexander grinned. His big sister was right; he did need something from her. He peered into the stroller where Molly lay, happily sucking on a pacifier.
“She’s sweet,” he said, and he meant it. “Not that it’s so strange, since she’s your daughter,” he added.
He had always known Nat would be an excellent mother, if for no other reason than she was the opposite of their own mother in all respects. He put an arm around her, and when she leaned into him, he felt an unexpected lump in his chest. He cared so goddamn much about her and was so bad at showing it. If Natalia hadn’t been there when they were growing up . . .
He hugged her more tightly. Natalia had represented all that was warm and safe back then. She had always tried to protect him when they were young, had comforted him when he was sad, and played with him when he was lonely. She had been a child too, so there had been plenty of stuff she hadn’t been able to prevent, but Alexander was utterly certain that Natalia had nurtured, knocked, and coaxed the few positive traits he had into him. Without her, the emptiness inside would have been unbearable.
Natalia smiled and leaned over the stroller to tuck in her daughter. He watched her confident movements. They had been so close during their childhood, but he didn’t think she had ever suspected what he had gone through when they were teenagers. What he had done and what had been done to him. How would she react if she ever found out? Nat had protected him when they were small, but he had also kept some of the worst things from her, the things he was ashamed of.
She glanced up and gave him a quick look. What would she say about the stuff he worked on in New York? She worried about his playboy lifestyle, the scandals, his lack of goals and purpose. She probably thought he took drugs, drank too much. He had been close to telling her, several times; the last thing he wanted was for her to worry about him. The problem was that he knew his sister. If he told Natalia, she would nag him about telling their mother and sharing with Peter and God knew what other crap. And then everyone would know, and he would be . . . defenseless. He usually tried not to think about it, but sometimes, like today, his conscience bothered him. It was easier when the family thoug
ht he did nothing but party, because if they had no expectations of him, they couldn’t be disappointed. The strange thing was that he had told Isobel. They barely knew one another, and yet he had blurted out everything.
“What?” Natalia asked with an affectionate smile.
“Did you know right away, when you met David, that you two could be together?”
She straightened. “No. People always think that in retrospect, but no. It took a while.” Her eyes pierced him. “Why? Have you met someone?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I just wondered. Listen, I know I haven’t always been the best of brothers, and yes, I did call because I need your help with something. But I hope you know that I’m happy for you—that you have David and Molly. You, my beloved sister, are my favorite person in the world.”
“Aside from all the girlfriends I read about every day?” she joked, but he could see delight in her intelligent eyes. He should say it more often, how much she meant to him.
“Aside from them, yeah. Look, the kiosks are open. Can I get you an ice cream?”
* * *
They walked along the canal with ice creams in their hands.
“How’s the new apartment?” Natalia asked once Molly had stopped fretting and fallen asleep in her stroller.
“It’s all painted white, very Scandinavian. No family heirlooms as far as the eye can see. I like it.”
After the interior designers had done their thing, Alexander had spent the past few days finishing things off himself. He had bought glasses and china. Candlesticks and bedding. All the while he’d imagined Isobel coming to visit, how he would show her around.
If she hadn’t dumped him for good, that was.
A note was all Isobel had left behind when he had come down to breakfast, expecting to whisk her off for their planned day trip. At first, he’d thought it was just a bad joke, but when she didn’t answer her phone and simply texted an apology that she was already on the train, he had been forced to accept that she’d actually bolted. With the help of Eugene, the traitor, who’d given her a ride to the station.
Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thoroughly dumped.
Skåne had been no fun without Isobel, so he’d gone home to consider his next step. He had trouble believing he had imagined the chemistry between them. Light a match and sparks would’ve flown. But there was something else about her that he hadn’t managed to decipher yet. He had caught glimpses of it every now and then, heard it in a tone of voice, a cut-off word, as though she had said too much. No, something else had scared her away from Skåne, and Alexander would bet a fortune on its being some kind of complicated feeling.
So, he would just have to come up with a new strategy. He had already planned his next move, and that was where Natalia came in.
“Could you do me a favor? Could you speak to Åsa? I want to take a guest to her and Michel’s mega wedding.”
Natalia flashed him a suspicious look, and he was reminded that, new mother or not, she was one of the finance world’s sharpest minds. “Can’t you ask her yourself?”
He groaned. “Have you talked to Åsa lately?”
Natalia threw the rest of her ice cream away. “She is a little hard to talk to if you’re not a wedding caterer or a dressmaker,” she admitted.
Yes, a little hard. If by that you meant impossible. He couldn’t chance it, better to ask Natalia. Åsa would never refuse Natalia anything. Åsa Bjelke had been Natalia’s best friend since childhood. She had come to live with the De la Grip family after her entire family was killed in a car crash. She had been an eighteen-year-old platinum blond goddess, Alexander had been thirteen and the envy of every male between twelve and one hundred. But their relationship had been far from uncomplicated.
“I’ve never seen her like this.” Natalia continued her musings. “Who would’ve thought that the queen of cool would turn into bridezilla? But since I’m such a nice person, and since you bought me an ice cream, I’ll ask. Michel has two thousand relatives or something like that, so I’m sure Åsa will be happy to have someone else on her side. Who is she? Your plus one. It’s not one of your horrendous American bimbos, is it?”
Alexander looked out at the water, suddenly ill at ease. It felt strange, talking to Natalia about Isobel, as though he wanted to keep Isobel to himself. Normally, he had no trouble discussing his female acquaintances. In fact, he quite enjoyed entertaining Natalia and Åsa with carefully edited stories of his escapades. But this felt different, more private. How weird.
“Alex? Spill it.”
“A doctor I met. She works for Doctors Without Borders. And for an organization called Medpax.”
Natalia used her hand to block the sun from her face. “You don’t mean Isobel Sørensen, do you?”
“You know her?” he asked, taken aback.
“Not exactly. But we’ve met. She’s the one who told me I was pregnant.”
“Was she?” Isobel hadn’t mentioned that. Though, of course, she would be very correct about her professional confidentiality, Doctor Isobel Sørensen. As far as Alexander knew, Isobel could treat all of his family and friends and not say a word about it. Admirable. And somewhat irritating.
“How do you know one another? Did you meet in Båstad?” Natalia asked.
“Yeah, and elsewhere. We’ve met a few times,” he answered vaguely.
He should have known his big sister would sink her teeth in. “How many times? Are you together?”
“We were in Skåne. At Eugene’s.”
She stopped, looking at him with wide eyes. “Are you kidding me? Eugene met her? You’ve never introduced any of your girlfriends to the family.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. Please, Nat, don’t make a big thing of this.”
She looked like she was ready to burst, but simply said, “I’ll talk to Åsa.”
“Thanks.”
She bit her lip. “Have you heard from Peter?”
“Not recently.”
“He seems pretty down,” she continued with the stubbornness of an older sibling. But as far as Alexander was concerned, Peter could sink into depression for all eternity.
“Can’t you talk to him?”
“Nat, I love you to death, but even you can’t fix this. Please. Drop it.”
“Alex, there’s something else I need to tell you,” she said hesitantly. “I met my father.”
It was his turn to stop. Last summer, it had come out that Gustaf De la Grip wasn’t Natalia’s biological father, that they had all lived in a lie. They hadn’t talked about it much, but Alexander realized that he hadn’t even asked. Had been too preoccupied with drinking. Funny how that worked. You not only forgot the things you wanted to, you forgot everything. “So you found him in the end?”
“Yes.” Her eyes turned misty.
She was a family person. The news that she was the result of a lie and a betrayal had been tough for her. It wasn’t her fault, of course. It was Ebba’s. And Gustaf’s. The parents again. Christ, they couldn’t do anything right. “Who is he?” he asked gently, knowing this meant a lot to his sister.
She wiped away a tear. “He lives in Uppsala. He’s a math professor at the university there.”
Alexander chuckled. “Of course you’re the daughter of a math genius.” Natalia’s head for numbers was legendary.
“He didn’t even know I existed.” She had a sad look in her eyes. “Mom never told him.”
“Mom has a lot to answer for,” he said, trying but not quite succeeding in keeping the animosity out of his voice.
“I know. But I’m tired of fighting with her. I just want her to be a grandmother to my daughter.”
Natalia was a good person. He should tell her about his American life. He was resentful of his parents for lying to them; he shouldn’t do the same to her, shouldn’t withhold important things. “Nat, there is something I’ve been meaning to . . .” He was interrupted by a grin and Natalia suddenly lighting up like a supernova, the way she
always did when she caught sight of her husband. Alexander couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Love made people exceptionally stupid.
“Oh, stop it,” she said, and flashed him a grin.
Alexander turned around and waited until David Hammar caught up with them. They greeted one another politely, and David gave him one of his grayish-blue looks, one that seemed to judge, value, and decide, in a split-second, that Alexander hadn’t changed—or not for the better, anyway. He would describe the relationship he had with his powerful brother-in-law as neutral at best. Not cold, but definitely not cordial. Alexander had taken an aversion to David last summer, before he and Natalia were officially a couple, and despite the fact that David clearly made Natalia happier than Alexander had ever seen her, it felt like a matter of principle to maintain his distance. Besides, Alexander was convinced that the stony, made-it-on-his-own-merit David Hammar didn’t care much for either him or his lifestyle. But both cared about Natalia, so they had a silent agreement to be polite and civil to one another.
David stooped over the stroller and looked at his daughter, now snoring faintly. Even before, David Hammar had been a force to reckon with, one of the most ruthless businessmen Alexander had ever met. As a new father, he was utterly impressive, as protective as a black bear.
“Alexander’s bought an apartment in Stockholm,” said Natalia, giving Alexander an encouraging look. “If you’re going to be around now that David’s taking paternity leave, maybe you two can spend some more time together?”
Sure. And hell might freeze over.
“We can talk about that later,” David said in a neutral tone.
Alexander interpreted that as a sign that David was about as keen to spend time with him as he was to have his teeth extracted without any anesthesia. And so he grinned, gave David a good smack on the back, and said, “Looking forward to it,” before saying good-bye and heading home.
* * *
Before Alexander had even made it through the door, he got a text from Natalia saying that it was okay to invite Isobel to the wedding.
He lay down on his new sofa, crossed his arms behind his head, and thought about his next move.
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