by Kat Mizera
Determined to try, she hummed a little as she made up her face, squinting slightly at the woman staring back at her. Hints of the happy young woman she’d once been appeared from the twinkle in her eyes, and she smiled. When was the last time she’d truly smiled, she wondered? Whenever she heard from her children, of course, but that was different. The smile of a mother wasn’t like the genuine, carefree smile of a happy woman. Her children had brought her great joy over the years, but they were gone now. Karl was in Las Vegas playing professional hockey for the NHL, married to a young woman Anya adored; she’d been so happy to meet Kate last year and that Karl had married her. Emilie had been living in New York but she’d married the father of her baby and was also living in Las Vegas now. She’d given birth to a beautiful little girl, Simone, and Anya had been thrilled to become a grandmother, but again, they were far away.
Sebastian lived here in Stockholm, but he’d moved into a flat with one of his friends and was working at a night club as a bouncer. He’d grown frustrated with his inability to play for the SHL, the Swedish Hockey League, so he’d left the sport altogether and was now flitting from job to job. She worried about the twins—they’d never attained the same level of success that Karl had and it felt as if they’d simply given up. Emilie had kept her pregnancy a secret from everyone, including Viggo, the father, and now was managing some sort of BDSM club. Though Anya wasn’t a prude, and didn’t judge Emilie for being involved in that lifestyle, she wished they was raising their daughter in a more traditional situation. Viggo was bisexual, and though he was a good guy, she had no doubt the marriage would end sooner rather than later. It wasn’t her place to say so, however.
The timer went off in the kitchen and she hurried to check the fish that was baking in the oven. She pulled out the pan and set it on the counter, examining the potatoes she was boiling to see if they were ready. There was a salad in the refrigerator and Wills would be home shortly. She was planning to talk with him tonight, maybe bridge the gap that had been continually growing between them. Most nights he came home, ate quickly and then retired in front of the TV or went to meet his friends at the local pub. They rarely spoke about anything of any substance anymore, and she couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched her.
She heard the key in the door and wiped her hands on a towel as she turned to greet him. “Hello!” She smiled. “Dinner’s ready—do you want to wash up?”
He frowned at her, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “What’ve you done with your face?”
She frowned, bristling slightly at his tone. “What do you mean? You’ve seen me in makeup a thousand times!”
“Not since the cancer—usually you’re too tired.”
“I’m trying to be better,” she replied. “Go on, wash up and let’s eat before it gets cold.”
“Yeah.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and she made a face after his retreating back. She couldn’t believe he’d been so cavalier about her trying to look nicer, but she figured he was right; she hadn’t put much energy into her looks in over a year. Probably closer to two. What did she expect?
She sat at the table, pouring a glass of wine for each of them and putting her napkin in her lap. She didn’t know what to say, but she needed to say something. They couldn’t continue to co-exist like this; there was no fun, no laughter, no life the way they were living now.
2
Wills came in and sat across from her, immediately digging into his dinner without even looking up. Anya took a bite, watching him curiously. They’d been together more than twenty-nine years now, and she could barely remember a time without him. He’d befriended her the first day she’d arrived in Stockholm that summer twenty-nine years ago. Her father had been teaching at the university and at twenty years old, with nothing else to do all summer, she’d accompanied him. Little did she know she would never go back to her native Manchester, England for anything more than a visit. She’d gotten pregnant that summer, and when the father of her baby went home to his wife in the U.S., Wills had stepped up to marry her.
“I’ll raise him like my own,” he’d said. “No one ever has to know.”
And no one ever had, until Sebastian let the cat out of the bag, even though Anya and Wills had had no idea he’d known. Wills hadn’t been the same since, and she needed to know why. The fact that Karl knew about his paternity now shouldn’t have made a difference but somehow it had.
“Wills, we need to talk.” Anya put down her fork and looked at him.
He glanced up, a bored look on his rugged face. “What about?”
“This distance between us. The way we argue all the time. How you go out to the pub all the time, instead of doing something with me, the way we used to.” She paused. “The way you haven’t touched me in almost a year.”
He gave a small shrug. “You don’t seem interested—in the pub, in the bedroom...”
“I was sick!” she protested. “But I’ve been better for months now. And the pubs? We haven’t gone pubbing in twenty years! Why would we suddenly start again?”
“Your focus has been the children,” Wills said with a shrug. “They’ve gone now, so it’s time for me to focus on myself.”
She cocked her head. “And what about your focus on me? Has that gone with the children?”
He met her gaze. “I don’t know that your focus was ever on me, and I’m not getting any younger.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” She glared at him, wiping her mouth with her napkin and tossing it on the table. “I’ve always taken care of you, our children, our home, everything! Except for when I was sick, but even then, I did the best I could.”
“The cancer was never the issue,” he said quietly, laying his napkin on the table as well. “The issue has been that you never really got over him.”
“Him?!” Anya’s eyes widened. “Him who? Do you mean Karl’s father? That’s what this is about? Your think I’m pining for him?” It was so ludicrous she wanted to laugh, but she was too angry.
“You needed a father for your child, and I was naïve enough to think you could love me. But I see the way you look at him, the longing in your eyes…”
“The way I look at whom?” she demanded. “Karl? You think I look at him and pine for his father—a man who carried on with me for three months with a wife and four children at home?”
“You’ve always favored him, always—”
“That’s bloody bullshit!” she spat, reverting to English from Swedish, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “He’s my firstborn and we’re close! We have the same sense of humor, many of the same interests—but I never played favorites. Never!”
He shrugged. “Ask them—you’ll see. Em and Sebastian never had as much of your affection as Karl did.”
She could only stare at him, shocked and hurt and perhaps a little bit guilty. Karl was her favorite, there was no doubt of that, but she’d never shown it to anyone else. She’d been close to Emilie until she was in her early twenties, when she’d begun modeling and sleeping with anyone and everyone. Then she’d gotten into some trouble with a video of her having kinky sex that went viral, and she’d pulled away from everyone and moved to the U.S. Her twin had always been a bit of a loner, desperate to be the big hockey star his brother was and never quite reaching Karl’s skill level. That wasn’t anyone’s fault, and she was frustrated that Wills actually blamed the twins’ shortcomings on her.
“Why is it that you never said any of this until Sebastian told Karl you weren’t his father?” she asked, trying to retain her compose when all she wanted to do was cry. “That’s when this started and you damn well know it.”
He paused, looking at her intently, a sadness in his eyes she’d never seen before. “It was then that I realized that our children—my children—were aware that Karl was different, that he was special. They’d known for years and we didn’t notice how much it affected them.”
“How, exactly, did it affect them?” Anya scowled. “By Kar
l paying for Sebastian to go to university in Great Britain? Buying him a Porsche? Sending us all on vacations? The nice gifts he sends? Did those things affect how good of a hockey player Sebastian is?”
He shook his head. “No, not directly, but they’ve lived in the shadow of their older brother for years and it was time for someone to love them more than anything, or anyone, else.”
“So you just stopped loving me?” she demanded in confusion.
He gave her a rueful smile. “It was time, Anya. After all, you never loved me.” He turned and left the room. A moment later, she heard the front door slam.
For a long time she didn’t move, simply staring in the direction he’d gone and wondering when he’d started to believe she didn’t love him. Granted, their relationship had grown gradually. She’d been heartbroken when her summer fling abandoned her 29 years ago. Wills had promised to never tell a soul that the child she carried wasn’t his if she would marry him. At the time, just 20 years old with no other options than to give the child up for adoption, she’d done it. They’d worked together at a pub all summer, and had been good friends. She’d been relieved and grateful, but she hadn’t been in love with him. He’d been kind and gentle, though, and she’d soon come to trust and care for him. He’d been a wonderful father and good provider for their family. Eventually she’d developed feelings that were genuine, her affection growing with the passage of time.
The birth of the twins had been cathartic for them. She’d been over the moon that she’d given him both a boy and a girl, and Wills seemed delighted to add two more to their family. Theirs hadn’t been a passionate romance but they’d gone from friends to parents and eventually they’d become a real couple. They’d built a family and she’d never so much as looked at another man, even though she’d received many, many offers. Wills was a big, burly man with red hair and deep-set blue eyes. His nose was a touch too big, his lips a little too thin, but he was solid, capable and caring. It never occurred to her to look at anyone else.
Working on autopilot, she cleaned the kitchen and packed up the leftovers for Wills’ lunch the next day. She’d been doing it for so long she didn’t even have to think about it anymore, and it crossed her mind that he was a grown man who could pack his own lunch. Turning off the light behind her, she walked into their bedroom and curled into her favorite chair. She sat there in the dark, knees pulled up to her chest, staring out the window.
3
The weather the following day was bright and sunny, although chilly, and Anya sat at the outdoor café enjoying fika—a Swedish term for taking a break while having coffee and some sort of pastry. Sebastian was meeting her and she nibbled a cinnamon bun as she waited, both excited and a little nervous. Sebastian usually came over on Sundays, but so did half the family. Wills’ sister and her children often came, as well as any number of cousins, neighbors and friends. Their house seemed to be the gathering place on Sundays and she’d always loved cooking and entertaining. When the chemo had become too much for her and she couldn’t do it anymore, everyone still gathered at their house, but friends and family did the cooking and cleaning.
As close as they all were, now she couldn’t help but wonder if Wills had confided to anyone. His sister? Her husband? Someone at the fishery where he was now a shift manager? She couldn’t wrap her head around the things he’d said last night and she desperately needed to know if her two younger children had really felt as though Karl was her favorite.
“Hi, Mama.” Sebastian came up to the table looking handsome as ever. His blonde hair was slicked back and he wore dark sunglasses on his face. In jeans and a leather jacket, he was about as handsome as she’d ever seen him and for a moment, Anya couldn’t help the pride she felt that she was his mother.
“Hello, sweetheart.” She turned her cheek so he could kiss it and then he sank into the chair next to her, dropping his sunglasses on the table and motioning for the waiter.
After he ordered, he gave her a smile. “So, what’s the occasion?”
She took a sip of coffee, wondering how to answer that honestly. “I guess I’m a bit lonely,” she admitted finally. “With all of you out of the house now, and your father at the pub three or four nights a week, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
He cocked his head. “Papa’s at the pub three or four nights a week?” He looked confused, which made sense since his father had never gone out like that.
She shrugged. “Seems he misses those days.”
“Not you?” He looked at her curiously.
“After the cancer and the heart attack and all the other issues? What am I going to do at a pub? Until recently I couldn’t even stay up past nine in the evening.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” He frowned. “I wish I had more time to spend with you but—”
“It’s not your job to entertain me,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to see you.”
“Well, here I am.” Sebastian thanked the waiter as he delivered his coffee and soon launched into anecdotes about his job at the night club.
He seemed to be enjoying it even though he wasn’t making a lot of money, and Anya was glad for that, at least.
“You seem different,” Sebastian said, abruptly changing the subject. “What’s wrong? The cancer isn’t back, is it?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m fine.”
“But?”
She looked into his eyes and managed a faint smile. “If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”
He nodded. “Sure. I’ve never lied to you.” He grinned. “Well, not since I was fifteen!”
She laughed. “And you weren’t very good at it.”
“You could always tell,” he chuckled.
She hesitated. “Sebastian—are you happy?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, in the grand scheme of things—your love life, your work, everything—are you happy?”
His brows knit together tightly as he looked at her. “It feels like that’s a loaded question. I mean, do I sometimes wish I had a great corporate job making a lot of money or playing in the NHL like Karl and Viggo? Definitely. But the idea of wearing a suit right now and working crazy hours in a bank or something doesn’t appeal. I like having the freedom to go on holiday when I want, sleep in most days, listen to music all night… Why? Do you think it’s embarrassing to have a son who’s a bouncer at a bar?”
She laughed. “Not at all. I just worry about you. Your father thinks—”
He cut her off. “Look, I love Papa, but he doesn’t understand me at all. He thinks working in the fishery all day and watching TV all night is the way to live… that’s not me.” He paused. “Didn’t think it was you either.”
She flushed, realizing her children knew her better than she thought. “No, not usually, but with me being so sick…”
“You’re not sick anymore, though. Why haven’t you gone back to doing things? Volunteering at the hospital and visiting your family in England? Why have you become such a hermit?”
“The after effects of the cancer are emotional too,” she said slowly. “I think maybe I’ve been depressed, you know? Cancer and the heart attack—made me feel old. And your father’s been…” She sighed. “Anyway, it’s been a rough time and I guess I’ve felt a bit unloved.”
“Aw, Ma…” He reached over to squeeze her hand. “You know me, Karl and Em love you! Papa needs to relax. He’s been kind of…” He made a face. “I don’t know—uptight, maybe? Ever since I spilled the beans about Karl’s real—” He stopped abruptly. “Wait, is this my fault? Did this start when I told Karl about not being his biological kid? Is that why he’s being a jerk to you?”
“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly, averting her eyes. “We’ve slowly grown apart.”
He seemed thoughtful. “Mama?”
“Yes?” She looked up.
“Were you in love with Dad when you married him?”
She swallowed. “No. I was pregn
ant by a married man—although I didn’t know he was married while we dated. They’d separated and he didn’t think I needed to know, but just before he left to go back to the U.S. he found out she had cancer. He had young children at home… I figured there was no point in telling him about the baby—what would he do? Choose me and the new baby over his current wife and children?”
“So you never even told him?”
She shook her head. “Your father had always had a thing for me, so when I broke down at work, and told him I was pregnant, he offered to marry me…swore he’d never tell a soul, that he’d take care of us.”
“And?”
She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “I liked him very much—he was a good man, a good friend. So I married him. Things were good for a long time. We had Karl, then we had you and Emilie…it wasn’t until Karl left for the U.S. that we started to grow apart. He was…”
“Jealous.” Sebastian sighed. “He wanted that for me.”
“There was nothing I could do about that,” she admitted. “Karl has the genetics.”
“Karl never wanted anything else—he lived and breathed hockey.” Sebastian spoke with admiration. “That isn’t me. I don’t love it enough to want to work that hard. To be honest, Ma, I don’t love anything that much. That’s why I work at a club and spend all my time hanging out with friends, getting odd jobs…I don’t think I’ve found my passion yet.” He looked down. “Does that make me really immature?”
“A little,” she said gently. “But it’s not a bad thing if you’re aware of it and are keeping your options open.”
“I am. I just don’t know what…yet.”
“That’s okay, darling.” She ran her hand along his cheek. “I’m proud of the man you are—you don’t have a career, but you work hard, you pay your own bills, you’re respectful and kind, honest… and sometimes that’s more important than fancy titles or big paychecks.”