by Petrova, Em
She hadn’t told Niklas about leaving, as if not speaking of her inevitable departure made it less real. She had worked too hard to pull herself away from Brad, and Niklas… well, Niklas had a far more dangerous lure that seemed to be especially made for her. But even if she could find a way to continue her interviews while staying close, where would that get her? Would she hang around Stockholm a little longer until her infatuation with Niklas died down? Because surely that’s what this was—infatuation. True, it felt different, stronger than any infatuation she had felt before, but after only two nights and a few chance encounters, what more could she call this?
A cold gust of wind blew through the balcony door, sending goose bumps across her bare arms. She disentangled herself from the warmth of Niklas’s embrace and climbed out of bed. Quietly, she closed the door, but she stayed by the window, looking out at the tall trees that swayed over Vasaparken. For just a moment, she allowed herself to formulate the thought she had already pushed away once that night: What if my mystical world, the one with just Niklas and me, was real? What if I stayed here, right here with Niklas, forever?
Caroline closed her eyes to enjoy the momentary warmth of this idea, but even allowing this tiny wish into her fantasy was too much. Immediately, a cascade of objections clamored in her mind, starting with this one: Look what happened the last time you put off what you wanted for a man. And though Niklas shared little else besides gender with Brad, Caroline couldn’t escape the feeling that she would be making the exact same mistake as she made the last time. The coldness of this idea was strong enough that she suddenly felt the urge to leave Niklas’s apartment right then, to tear herself away from him before she no longer could.
Caroline shivered, and her naked body begged her to move. Where were her clothes? In a pile on the kitchen floor, she remembered. Not far from the broken glass. But that memory triggered a flash of something else, the memory of Niklas’s lips on her shoulders as he slipped the straps of her dress off. She tried to push it away.
“What are you doing?” Niklas’s voice was rough and filled with sleep.
“I was cold, so I closed the door,” she said. A half truth. Just a moment before, she had contemplated walking out of his apartment. Now, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Come back,” he whispered.
He lifted the covers for her, revealing the rest of his impressive physique. Caroline felt her body stir. No, she definitely wouldn’t leave now.
Slowly, she walked back over to his bed and crawled in, fitting herself into him once more. He wrapped his arm over her and pulled her closer, his heat spreading through her body. Soon, she could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against her again, coaxing away the tension of the unknown future. But Caroline lay awake for a long time after that, knowing that separating herself from Niklas was only going to get harder.
CAROLINE AWOKE TO the smell of bacon, the smell of her childhood weekend mornings. She opened her eyes, but it took a moment to orient herself in the stark whiteness of the room. Niklas’s room. He had opened a window again to let in the cool morning air. It’s his Nordic blood, she thought. He must be made of an entirely different substance, much more resistant to cold.
She sat up in bed and felt the tug of soreness from all over her body. And with each tug came a flash of Niklas up against her. She closed her eyes and let the breeze blow over her skin.
She opened them again and looked around. Her dress lay neatly on the corner of the bed. He must have put it there. Caroline slipped it on and then walked down the hall to the kitchen. Niklas was standing in front of the stove, dressed in only jeans, attending to pans of bacon and eggs. All traces of glass on the floor were gone. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of just how long it had been since she had eaten.
Though her body was clearly telling her to walk across the room and feel the warmth of his skin, she stopped instead. She leaned against the doorway and watched him, letting that feeling sit with her, drawing it out. There was a lightness to the way he moved, a contentment that she hadn’t seen in him yet.
He turned around to grab bread from the other counter and caught sight of her. His smile was open and warm.
“An American breakfast, just for you. I’d come over and kiss you, but there’s a lot going on right now,” he said, gesturing to the spread of food.
His eyes wandered from her face down to her breasts, where her bra was conspicuously missing. He raised his eyebrows and then turned back to put the bread in the toaster.
“Or maybe I’d do a little more than kiss you,” he said. She could hear he was smiling.
Caroline sat down at the kitchen table. Niklas grabbed two plates and began to serve the food. He placed one in front of Caroline and then leaned down for a soft, warm kiss. Just as her hunger began to take a back seat to other urges, he broke away and walked back over to the counter.
“I don’t know how you like your coffee,” he said. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Just milk,” she said as he sat down opposite from her. “Thank you.”
“I figured you’d be hungry,” he said and then added, “and tired.”
Caroline thought she saw another smug look of satisfaction cross his face before he looked down to take his first bite.
“And you?”
Niklas laughed. “I’m exhausted. In every possible way. But I have a few things to do today.”
He took a bite of his toast, then said, “Listen, I want to do things right with you. I don’t want to just meet in the hall and then spend the night together.” His lips curved up into a smile and he added, “Not that I’m complaining.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows and laughed.
“This isn’t coming out right,” he chuckled. “What I’m trying to do is ask you to have dinner with me tonight.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Out?” The smile faded a little from Niklas’s face. Hers must have too because when he looked back at her, he quickly added, “Yes, we can go out. We’ll give it a try.”
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Going out isn’t always very private for me.”
“And the famous Niklas Almquist doesn’t like to mix public and private,” she said dryly, “so he’d rather stay holed up in his apartment when he’s off the ice?”
Niklas gave her knee a quick squeeze under the table, right in the most ticklish spot, eliciting a yelp from her.
“That’s right,” he said with a wicked smile. “And I’m looking for someone to lock up in here with me.”
He grabbed his plate, which he had mysteriously cleaned in a matter of minutes, and stood up. But before heading back to the stove, he bent down and gave her another kiss, even longer and deeper than the last. Caroline heard her fork clatter onto her plate as she reached up to move her hands over his bare chest. His skin was hot and alive under her touch.
He broke off the kiss and gave her a look that was definitely smug. “Have I convinced you to come to dinner?”
She nodded, still catching her breath.
Niklas loaded up his plate again and sat down, eating with the same eager intensity as he had before. “Actually,” he said between bites, “I know a little restaurant on Södermalm with great home-made pasta. I can call and get us a table. That is, if you like Italian.”
He stopped eating and looked at her.
“Are you sure you’re up for going out?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I get to take you home afterwards?”
Now it was her turn to squeeze his knee, though she found that her hand barely spanned its width, and his thick muscles didn’t seem to move under her effort.
“You can do a lot better than that,” he said with a straight face, “just try higher up.” Then he took another bite of his eggs.
Chapter Seventeen
The apartment was quiet. The rain clouds had passed over the city, leaving behind still, heavy air that lurked outside her balcony door. Caro
line sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Veronica’s knock. Her laptop was open, and the beginning of her second article waited for her on the screen. She was trying hard to think about something besides Niklas.
She stood up and cleaned the coffee pot. If she had learned anything about Stockholm in the last few weeks, it was that guests were served coffee when they came over. Even Mexican transplant guests.
Caroline had just refilled the compartments and screwed the contraption back together when Veronica’s knock finally echoed down the front hall.
“Are you now so busy that I have to plan ahead to see you, Carolita?” Veronica said, kissing Caroline on the cheek.
“I’m never too busy to see you,” she said, leading her friend down the hall and into the kitchen. “I just wasn’t near my phone last night.”
“Well, I wasn’t the only one you were ignoring,” said Veronica. “Ludvig called to see if I knew where you were. He said it was important, that he had left two messages.”
“What did you say?”
“That my friend was a fool to blow off any guy offering her a job that pays her the kind of money she desperately needs,” she said.
Caroline could feel her face flush. “What—”
But Veronica burst into laughter. “Dios mio, calm down. Do you really think I’d say that? I told him I didn’t know.”
Caroline found herself chuckling.
Veronica shook her head. “But I think I do know where you were. Caroline, what are you doing to yourself? You’re leaving soon.”
Caroline closed her eyes and let out a sigh.
“You did tell Niklas that you’re leaving, didn’t you?” Veronica stared at her. “Tell me you told him.”
Caroline shook her head slowly.
“Why not?”
The coffee pot gurgled. Caroline took it off the stove and filled up two cups. She brought them over to the table and sat down across from her friend. Then she took a deep breath.
“I guess I just don’t want this to end. And I’m scared I’m going to do something stupid like forget my plans, the ones that I’ve waited for for years, and throw myself at a man I only met a few weeks ago.”
Veronica raised her eyebrows and added, “A very sexy man.”
Caroline let out a laugh.
“Yes, a very, very sexy man. But he’s more than sexy,” she said. “There’s something about the way he is that just feels right. I don’t know how else to say it.”
“Oh, no, Carolita,” said Veronica, shaking her head and getting another laugh from Caroline.
“I know, I know,” Caroline said, waving her friend off. Then she lost her smile. “Here’s the worst thing: right now, there’s a part of me that’s ready to give up everything else just to stay with Niklas a little longer, just to find out if this is something real. The magazine job, the career possibilities, everything. And the more I’m with him, the more I feel it. But I swore to myself that I’d never do that again. I’m not giving up a part of myself.”
Veronica gave her a rare look of seriousness. “It shouldn’t feel like that.”
“You’re right,” said Caroline. She gave her friend a little smile. “Is this what you came over to tell me?”
“Oh,” gasped Veronica, “I almost forgot. And it’s bad news. I got a call from the owners of this apartment: Tommy broke his foot when they were hiking. It happened a few days ago, and now that the swelling has gone down, he wants to come home.”
“How soon?” asked Caroline.
“Sunday.”
Sunday. Three days from now. And two nights. She had two nights left to stay in the apartment across from Niklas’s. Two nights left of her life here, two nights for whatever she was hoping for to happen. Whatever that was.
Caroline was suddenly aware that Veronica was staring at her.
“You know you can stay with us before you go to Spain, don’t you?” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to leave, either.”
Caroline opened her mouth to answer, but her phone rang before she could speak. She flipped it over and read the name across the screen: Ludvig. She stared at the phone and then looked back at Veronica, who gave her an impatient glare.
Finally, Caroline pushed the talk button.
“Caroline, you didn’t answer your phone yesterday.”
He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t say anything.
“Listen, my boss wants us to get together for dinner tonight, the whole European Cup coverage team. He’s bringing the contracts and itineraries, and he has some specific assignments.”
The line was quiet, and she knew he was still waiting for her.
“I can’t make it,” she said softly.
“What?”
She knew by the sharpness in his voice that he had heard her, but she repeated it anyway.
“I can’t make it tonight. There’s something else I have to do.”
“Something more important?”
Caroline swallowed. “Yes, it’s important,” she said with a little more irritation than she had intended.
Ludvig was silent for a long time. Then he said, “I’ll call you later,” and he hung up.
Caroline put down the phone and looked up at Veronica. Though her friend had only heard Caroline’s half of the conversation, the look on her face suggested it was enough. Veronica shook her head.
“If you were looking for a little more excitement when you left Brad, you certainly got it.”
Caroline suddenly felt exhausted.
“I’m getting exactly what I came here for,” she said. “Why am I not happier about it?”
Chapter Eighteen
Caroline stepped out of the taxi and onto the wet sidewalk. Rain had fallen in bursts all afternoon, but the evening sky was bright and clear. She reached back into the front window to hand the driver a wad of money, but Niklas covered her hand with his.
“Please, I want to take you out tonight,” he said softly and handed the driver the fare. Then he smoothed her hair and let his lips brush against hers. It had felt odd to step out of the building with him, as if she wasn’t quite sure the Niklas she knew would still exist off their apartment floor. But he did exist, as the very real presence of his towering body reminded her.
“The place is across the street, right there,” he said, pointing.
Niklas grabbed her hand, and they ran across, towards the warm glow of a tiny restaurant. He held the door open, and she stepped in. She took a deep breath, trying to relax. There was something that felt different about Niklas now that they were out, something guarded. She wasn’t sure she could get used to it.
“I’m going to the rest room,” she said, pointing the doors in the hallway next to them. “I’ll come find the table.”
Caroline closed the door behind her and let out a deep breath. Why was she so nervous, more nervous than she had been when he stepped out of the elevator the night before? Caroline looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. It was hard to believe that only the night before she had walked into his apartment, wondering if she would find what she had hoped for. Something had shifted during the night, opening up, giving her the answer she wanted.
She had felt that same pull less than an hour ago when she opened her apartment door. Niklas leaned against the door frame, freshly showered and in jeans and a button-down blue shirt that matched his eyes. He looked polished, like he did on the day of the press conference, but he was smiling—a real smile—and his eyes fixed on her. His slow, measured kiss seemed to say Tonight I am yours, and she felt that promise echo through her body. For a moment, Caroline regretted her suggestion that they go out.
It was the remains of this kiss, lingering on her lips, that had slowly transformed into a knot in the pit of her stomach: Tonight, she was going to disturb this delicate connection, so new and raw. It wasn’t just his guarded look that had made her nervous. She couldn’t put it off anymore. She needed to tell him about Spain. She had already waited too long.
Caroline ran her hand
through her hair in an attempt to tame the curls that had sprung up, taking on a life of their own in the humid night air. Then, with another deep breath, she opened the door and entered the restaurant.
The room was long and dark with private little nooks along the edges. Niklas’s kind of place, she thought. The hostess wasn’t at her station, so Caroline let her eyes adjust and scanned the room. Then she saw him. Them. Niklas was seated in one of the last alcoves along the wall, and a woman was bending over in front of him, writing something and giving him a deliberate view down the front of her shirt at her large breasts. Her long, blond hair fell over her shoulders, and her miniskirt covered little of her tanned legs. She put down the pen and stood up. Then, with a smile, she walked over to a table across the room to join her friend. After taking her seat, the woman turned back to Niklas for a last smile.
Caroline felt her nails dig into her hands as she watched the scene play out in front of her. The woman was undoubtedly sexy, and she was clearly making herself available to Niklas. Niklas looked down at the table and back up again, finding Caroline’s eyes.
Her instincts told her to walk out of the restaurant, to get away from this sinking feeling. She had left this kind of guy behind in college. The kind of guy that had driven her to Brad in the first place. Why had she thought that Niklas would be different? She stood, frozen in place, as Niklas crossed the room. He took her hand and led her to the table in a way that told Caroline he wouldn’t take no for an answer. But instead of sitting down, she stopped in front of their alcove and looked down at the tiny scrap of paper that Niklas didn’t bother to hide. On it was a phone number, the name Marie and three words in Swedish, the middle word double underlined.
“What does it say?” she said, her voice soft and even.
He gave her a long, hard look. “Do you really want to know?”
No, she didn’t.
“I do.”
“It says, Marie, your biggest fan.”
In another context, the blatant crassness of the message might have seemed funny, but nothing about it seemed funny at this moment. Silence hung in the air.