“It was eighteen years ago. Carolina and I have talked. She’s forgiven me, moved on. I voted against Dad and for her brother. I don’t know what else I can do. When do you think I’ll have atoned?”
“I don’t know.”
Peter knew he had changed since last summer, that he was someone else now. And yet people still saw him as the person he had been. It was a paralyzing feeling. To know you had improved, had tried, but were still seen as who you had been before. Scum.
“I get that you feel . . . betrayed?”
Alexander just shook his head. “Betrayed. Shocked. Repulsed. Take your pick. And the fact that Mom and Dad knew all along. It’s too much. Don’t you realize how it’s affected our family all these years?”
“Yeah. But you know I thought Carolina was dead. I’ve lived half my life in the belief that I killed a woman. I’m not saying I’ve atoned for what I did, but I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst enemy.”
Alexander smiled ironically. “Not even me, you mean?”
“You aren’t my enemy, Alex. You’re my brother. I let you down, I know that. But . . .” His last words were stifled. He wanted to say he loved Alex, but such words were never spoken in their family. No one had ever said it to him, and he had never said it himself, not even to his ex-wife.
Alexander’s jaw clenched.
“Do you still speak to Dad?” he eventually asked.
Peter shook his head. “He doesn’t talk to me anymore. I don’t give a damn.”
“And Mom?”
“We speak occasionally. I mean, she’s so loyal to Dad, but I think she’s actually a little tired of him. She’s getting old, maybe she’s reassessed her priorities.”
“She’s good with Molly,” said Alexander.
Peter smiled. “Yeah, who would have thought that?”
“I thought you liked Mom.”
“Believe it or not, I do like her. I can see that she has lots of faults. But she’s my mother, and I don’t have the right to judge her.”
“Do you ever hear from Louise?”
Peter shook his head.
“Do you miss her?”
Peter thought about it. “Not even a little bit. That’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“Nah, Louise wasn’t a good person. Even you didn’t deserve to be married to her.”
“Thanks, I think.”
This must be the longest conversation they’d had in many, many years. He had been so jealous of Alexander for so long—his entire life, actually. It was a terrible feeling, jealousy; it completely devoured you. And it was shameful. But that was gone now, Peter saw. He had gotten over it when he met Gina.
“Jesus, I still can’t believe you raped a girl. I feel like I should hit you.”
“I feel like I should hit myself, so I understand. Want to? Would it feel better?”
Alexander sighed. “No.”
He took out his cell, looked at it with a concerned expression, as though he was waiting for something that never came.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’ve been checking your cell constantly.”
“Sorry. I just thought I’d get a message. It’s nothing.”
“Alexander?”
“Yeah?”
Peter wanted to say that he would never hurt a woman again. That he would rather die than raise a hand to anyone, but he was interrupted by: “Peter?”
And his entire world stopped.
Gina.
“Hi,” she said, and the hair all over Peter’s body stood on end. He got up, his eyes not leaving her for a millisecond.
Gina Gina Gina.
“Hi there,” Alexander said with a smile, also getting to his feet. “How are you? What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” she replied, nodding her head toward Peter’s office, without looking at Alexander. She looked only at Peter. “Or did. It was temporary. I’m here to pick up my things.” Her voice was breathless, as if she had trouble concentrating on her words.
Peter looked at her.
She looked at Peter.
Alexander said something else, but Peter didn’t hear what. He just continued to look at Gina, trying to drink in her features. Would this be the last time he saw her? Did she hate him? Was there anything he could do?
“Are you going to the office?” she asked quietly.
“No. I was headed home. I just ended up sitting here.”
“Don’t you have the car today?”
He shook his head. Hadn’t even bothered to pretend he had anywhere else to go after work.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said.
“He really does look pretty lousy,” said Alexander.
“Though I feel better now that you’re here,” Peter said, ignoring Alexander. His heart was pounding so hard he could hardly breathe.
Gina bit her lip. She cast a glance at Alexander.
Peter did the same.
Alexander looked at them both, suspicious.
“Why do I get the feeling you want me to leave?”
“You were on your way to the foundation, weren’t you?” said Peter. Go, he urged silently.
Alexander shook his head. “Would that be fine with you, Gina?”
“What?” she asked, as her eyes flitted across Peter’s face. Dark, worried, darling eyes.
“That I leave?”
Gina nodded so eagerly that Peter almost laughed. Never before had a woman wanted Alexander to leave and Peter to stay.
Alexander gave Peter another look, rolled his eyes, and put on his sunglasses. And then he held out his hand.
“Good luck.”
Peter looked at it before he took it and shook it, long and hard.
“Thanks,” he said, serious.
“Bye,” said Alexander, and he loped away.
And Gina, God bless her, she didn’t watch him go.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Chapter 55
Gina walked quietly next to him. Peter didn’t speak either, and the silence between them grew and grew.
“Where do you want to go?” he eventually asked.
“Where can we talk?”
“A café?” He pointed toward Stureplan.
“No. Do you live nearby?”
He nodded.
“Let’s go there, then.”
They said nothing else during the short walk to his street.
“You live here?” Gina asked, looking up at the gray building with wide eyes.
“Yeah,” he replied, embarrassed. The property was undeniably grand. He punched in the door code and held the door open for her.
“There’s no elevator,” he explained. “I live on the fourth floor.”
They went up the wide, marble Östermalm stairs in silence. Gina glanced at the letter boxes; exclusive prefixes like von and af were in the majority here, signs of the noble lineage of the occupants, but she didn’t comment.
Peter unlocked the door, stepped to one side, and let her in.
He took her jacket and hung it up. “Let’s go into the living room,” he said. “If you sit down, I’ll make some tea.”
When he came back with two mugs, Gina was on the sofa with a pillow on her lap.
Peter sat slightly away from her, not wanting to intrude. She twisted the corner of the pillow between her thumb and forefinger.
“I wanted to apologize,” she finally began.
He almost tripped over the words in his rushed reply. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m the one who should apologize. I should have talked to you first.”
“I know I can be hypersensitive. Suspicious. It’s something I need to work on.”
“You’ve been through a lot. You’ve had reason to distrust people. I’m sure it’s saved you plenty of times. But believe me, you have nothing to apologize for as far as I’m concerned.”
“I was just a kid when we left Somalia. Dad was married
, did I tell you that? To a younger woman. My mom died when Amir was born. Dad got remarried so we’d have a mother. But she was from a tiny village, and she had different ideas from ours, and a huge clan behind her. You’ve met my dad. He’s a good man. His new wife wanted me to get married to a cousin of hers. I was eleven.”
Peter said nothing. As an eleven-year-old, he’d had all the material comforts there were. Had gone to school. Played soccer with his friends.
“Amir was so small, but Dad’s new wife wanted nothing to do with him; she pushed him away. It was horrible to watch. Dad tried to talk to her, but they just argued. And then he ended up fighting with some of the guerillas. Things got dangerous. So he took us, and we left.” Her voice sank. “He left everything for us.”
“I understand,” he said. “What happened to his wife?”
“She was a woman who always looked out for her own interests,” said Gina. “She was probably just relieved to get rid of us. Since then, it’s been the three of us.”
She quickly wiped her cheek.
Peter got up and fetched a pack of tissues, handed her one, and sat down next to her. Gina blew her nose.
“I overreacted,” she said. “When you came over. But I was scared. I know you meant well.”
“It’s okay, Gina. My sister always talks about how white men with power need to be more sensitive to other people’s needs. I used to think she was a pain, but lots has changed. I’m just at the beginning. You can be mad at me. There are so many times I haven’t spoken up, pretended not to hear. I’ve got a lot to make up for.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
She reached out and touched his wrist.
Peter’s heart practically stopped in his chest. Gina leaned forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and kissed him on the lips. At first, he didn’t dare move, but then he kissed her back, tenderly, reverently.
She pulled away. Gave him a serious look.
“In my country, young girls are subjected to female genital mutilation, Peter. Do you remember we talked about it?”
He had trouble breathing. “Yes,” he said quietly. He swallowed. Couldn’t get another word past his lips. No, God.
“My mother had been against it, but Dad’s new wife was worried no one would want to marry me, and she said people would call me a whore. She decided to have it done to me when Dad was away. I know some people call that custom a cultural expression, but it’s not. It’s a horrible mutilation of a young girl’s sexual parts. Cruelty and repression. It leaves scars for life, painful ones. Destroys a woman’s chances of being able to enjoy married life. Of having children without complications. It’s not religion.” Her gaze was steady.
His mouth was completely dry. “I’m so sorry,” he said helplessly, cautiously taking her hand. It was slender and light in his. She wore a simple silver ring around her thumb, and he wanted to cry at the thought of what she had told him.
“Peter?”
“Yes?”
“There were so many of them. They forced me down on a rug. Four or maybe five women. They were going to use a razor blade. I was so scared. But Dad came home, just in time and he snatched me away, saved me from them, simply refused to allow it,” she said. “Refused. He saved me—many girls don’t survive—and then we fled. He gave up so much for my sake. And he’s never put any demands on me. He trusts me. But I have demands of myself. Do you follow?”
Peter nodded, though he didn’t quite understand. This was so far removed from his everyday life.
“I promised myself I would wait for a good man. A kind man. I really haven’t been so good at trusting. I’ve seen too much. But now it feels like I’ve found him.”
She squeezed his hand, linked her slender fingers through his. The contrast was so damn beautiful his throat burned. Peter cleared his throat.
“But you know I’m not a good person? I told you what I did. Of all the men you’ve met, I’m not the best, I can promise you that.” His voice broke. If he could just go back in time, start over, atone for his sins. “You know what happened, I . . .”
“Idiot,” she said, and she kissed him again.
Peter wasn’t quite sure what was happening. But Gina was on his couch, kissing him, and so he decided not to analyze the situation too much.
He pulled her to him, gently. She put an arm around his neck, and their kiss deepened. Without thinking, he raised a hand to her breast.
She froze, and he pulled his hand back.
“Sorry,” he quickly said.
“Idiot,” she mumbled into his mouth.
“Gina, I can’t . . .” he choked. He hadn’t been with a woman in so long. He would embarrass himself. She was so beautiful, deserved the best.
“Don’t you want to?” she asked quietly.
He laughed at the question. It was so far from the truth. “Yeah, so much it hurts,” he said honestly. “But Gina . . .”
“But what?” She gave him a serious look. Dark eyes, skin like silk.
“I don’t understand,” he said, frustrated. “You want to? With me? Why?”
She slapped him, square on the face. It was so completely unexpected that he could only stare. She had small, slim hands, but she was strong, and her palm made his cheek sting.
“What are—?”
She hit him again. Hard. His cheek burned. Peter got up from the couch and she did the same, stood in front of him breathing heavily.
“Gina,” he said helplessly. What had he done?
She positioned herself. He saw her hand approaching, and she hit him again, even harder this time. The sound echoed through the room. She didn’t wait, and raised her hand again. Peter tensed.
She lowered it; her hand fell to her side.
“Why?” she asked, breathlessly. “Because. Because you’re a good person. Because you think you’re bad, that you have to stay away from women, and because you think you’re some kind of monster. But I’ve met monsters, Peter. Real monsters. You aren’t one of them. You don’t hit back, not even when I hit you like that, completely unprovoked, like some madwoman. You’re a gentleman. You’re kind, you’re considerate.”
“But what I did to Carolina . . .”
“Everyone has the potential for both good and evil. Everyone can cause pain. But you’re not the person now you might have been when you were at school.”
“I don’t think I could do something like that again. God, I hope not.” He had made a promise to himself that he would rather kill himself than do anything like that again. Not because he was a good person but because he wouldn’t be able to live with any more guilt. “I regret it so much.”
“You gave my brother the one thing he wanted most. You gave your time. You listen. You’re thoughtful and you care. That’s why. Idiot,” she added.
“But—”
“No.” She sharply cut him off. “No buts. I want to sleep with you. If you don’t want to, fine. But if you do, you have to stop going on about being a bad person.”
“I want to,” he said quietly.
She stuck out her chin, and defiantly said, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”
“I do. More than anything. Not to sleep with you, but to make love to you.”
She bit her lip. “Well, then.”
They kissed again, standing, embracing. An adult, awesome, magnificent kiss.
She pulled away, and her eyes fell to his chest.
“There’s just one thing you should know.”
“What?” He stroked her upper arm, thought that he could be happy with a world in which he got to caress Gina’s smooth skin.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said, though she still avoided his gaze. She chewed her lip. “But I should probably tell you.”
“What?”
“Don’t freak out, or give it any importance. But technically, I’m . . .” She swallowed, looked up, and met his eye. “I’m a virgin.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah, right? No. I’ve never slept with a man. And you
’re the only one I’ve kissed.”
He had no idea how she had made it through life un-kissed, but he was apparently smart enough not to say anything more. He already had performance anxiety at the thought of being with this beautiful, young woman. He had to make it perfect for her. Offer her something other than tea to drink. Some food, maybe. Court her.
“Peter?”
“I need to sit down.”
“We don’t have to do anything.”
He took her hand and pulled her down onto the couch, touched a hand to her cheek, and kissed her. “I don’t think there’s anything I want more in the world right now.”
He didn’t say it, but he thought the words.
I love you.
Over and over again.
I love you, Gina.
* * *
The relief made Gina want to giggle. But she wasn’t sure she had ever giggled, so she smiled and allowed herself to be kissed by Peter again. She had told him, and he had taken the news splendidly.
She hadn’t planned on being a virgin at the age of twenty-two. That was just how things had panned out. She wasn’t one of those girls who’d had a boyfriend in high school. The years went by and she never met anyone she liked, and suddenly she was so old it was starting to get embarrassing. Logically she knew she couldn’t be the only adult virgin in the world, but she had been waiting for the right person, and he had never turned up. Until now. In the shape of a divorced, white financier. Someone up there must really have a sense of humor.
Peter took her hand. They ended up in the bathroom. It was about the same size as Gina’s family’s living room.
“Wow,” she said, reluctantly impressed.
“I know,” he said, as he took out some soft hand towels and put them down on a bench. “The real estate agent waxed lyrical when I bought this place. I thought it was ridiculously big, but now I’m pleased. Now that you’re here. I thought we could take a shower together?”
Gina nodded. She took another step into the room, and it was like entering a spa. Not that she’d ever been in one, but it smelled so clean and aromatic. The lighting consisted of tiny bulbs, like stars in the ceiling. Everything was subdued, calm, soft.
Peter took off his shirt, and she glanced at his chest. He was in good shape. Not super muscular, but still pretty solid. Narrow hips, a dark blond line of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his pants. She should feel shy, but it was as though they’d passed that stage. Instead she put a hand on his chest and spread her fingers over his muscles. Her hand was dark, almost black against his faint tan. He put a hand on top of hers, kissed her, and she thought that it had probably been worth it, waiting for these kisses.
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