The waitress approached the table with another dish, this one with chicken, polenta and some sort of tomato sauce. She set it down in front of Niklas.
“I was made for Italian eating, the long meals with lots of courses,” he said smiling. After a few hungry bites, he asked, “And what about you? Why a trip around the world?”
“I don’t know,” Caroline laughed. “Adventure. Freedom. A change from Michigan.”
Niklas smiled. “True, but plenty of trips would be a change from Michigan. Where will you go after you finish the magazine job? With your ticket, you don’t even have to decide where you’re going yet, right?”
He really wanted to know about her, she thought. His eyes were fixed on her, gentle, waiting, as if he were trying to unravel the mystery of her, just as she had been trying to do with him.
“The truth is that I don’t know what will happen after this summer. I guess it’s not so different from what you were just talking about,” she said slowly. “My life back in Michigan felt over, just a long stretch of hazy sameness in front of me. All compromises, nothing I truly wanted. Though now I seem to have the opposite problem: too many things I want.”
She hadn’t actually put all of this into words before, and she wasn’t sure she herself even understood all the wants and fears that had driven her here.
“My father has a good life. He has a good job and a nice house, and he and my mother love each other so much. I can see they still do, even after almost 30 years together. But there’s a part of him that is still in Mexico, a part of him that he’s missing.
“One night when I was in high school, I came home to find him dozing off on the couch with a beer can in one hand, listening to ranchero music. He never did that kind of thing. He waited up for me, but not drinking. So I sat down next to him, and he woke up looking startled, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was.”
Caroline glanced up to see if Niklas’s eyes were glazing over with boredom, but instead she found him gazing even more intently at her. She took a deep breath and continued.
“‘Papa,’ I said to him. ‘Are you sorry you left Mexico?’ He shook his head and gestured with his hands, forgetting about the beer can. It spilled on the couch, but he didn’t seem to care.
“‘No, no, mi amor,’ he said. He always called me that, my love. ‘I couldn’t stay when there was so much more out there in the world. I felt like that ever since I was little. My brothers weren’t the same, and for a long time I thought there was something wrong with me. No, I couldn’t stay in Mexico. But it’s still my home, and my family still lives there. That part will never get easier.’”
Caroline gave Niklas a half smile.
“I guess I got that same gene from my father,” she said, “I wanted to be a part of the rest of the world, but I didn’t want to leave and have that same sadness follow me, just like it followed him. When I saw the magazine job, I applied for it, knowing I was sacrificing my relationship with Brad, but I did it anyway. It seemed like the perfect solution. I could take a year off, see the world, and come back to where I started, never having to say goodbye forever like my father did. All the adventure, none of the risk. Though—”
She stopped, hesitant to finish.
“Though what?” he asked softly.
Caroline swallowed.
“Though the ‘no risk’ part isn’t working out the way I thought it would.”
His eyes flickered again with a hint of hope she didn’t want to consider. He nodded at her and then took the last bite of his second course. Caroline leaned back in her chair and took a drink of her wine. Niklas’s legs were still wrapped around hers, reminding her of the nearness of his body.
Caroline watched a man in a well-cut pinstriped suit approach the table, his eyes fixed on Niklas. He cleared their plates and nodded at Caroline. Then he began talking to Niklas in Swedish. Though the conversation was lost on her, Caroline watched Niklas’s face change. She could see his mouth tighten as he silently took in whatever the man was saying to him. But that look didn’t last. He took a breath and unclenched his teeth, and Caroline instead saw the person she had seen at the press conference emerge: Niklas in front of a crowd. He was taking control of the conversation, asking the man something and nodding in response. Then, after a few quick exchanges, the man left.
As soon as the man’s back was turned, Niklas’s mouth tightened into a frown. His legs had pulled away from hers, and he was sitting rigid in his chair. She stared at him, waiting for some clarification, but he said nothing.
“What happened?” she finally asked.
Niklas looked up at her in surprise, as if he had momentarily forgotten the conversation had taken place in Swedish.
“He’s the owner. He was telling me about an article in Expressen. He’s going to get it.”
The man in the pinstriped suit returned with a newspaper. He laid it down in front of Niklas, and then, with an apologetic look, he retreated back to the kitchen.
Caroline looked down at the newspaper in front of Niklas, folded open to the section labeled “Sport.” She couldn’t read a word of the title or the article itself, but the photo was clear: Niklas, full of rage, struggling to break out of the restraining arms of his teammates. But something more caught her attention. A name, in bold, right at the top of the article: Ludvig Sundin. Ludvig.
One look at Niklas’s clenched jaw told Caroline all she needed to know. The article wasn’t about anything good. After a few minutes, he turned over the newspaper. He unclenched his fists and ran his hand through his hair. Finally, he looked back up at Caroline, slowly shaking his head.
“I was hoping I had left all this behind in Detroit,” he said, gesturing at the newspaper in disgust, “but it seems to have followed me here.”
Two questions came to Caroline at that moment. She understood that this wasn’t the time for the first one, the question she had been harboring since the day he had knocked on her apartment door and interrupted her internet search: What happened back in Detroit?
So she asked her second question.
“What does the article say?”
“I’ll read you the title,” said Niklas with a joyless smile. “‘Almquist: Asset or Liability?’ You can guess which side this writer falls on.”
In fact, she already knew. She had known what Ludvig thought of hockey players in general, and Niklas in particular, since the first day she had stood with him beside the ice. In fact, Caroline was sure she had been standing next to Ludvig when he took the photo that stared up at them from the newspaper right now. The thought grated on her, opening her to another uncomfortable question: Was she somehow involved in Ludvig’s particular interest in Niklas’s vulnerabilities? She couldn’t forget the look on Ludvig’s face when he had come over to pick her up and found Niklas there. Jealousy. That’s what she had seen. She was sure of it now.
When Caroline looked up again, Niklas was watching her. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough and sad. “Would you mind if we went somewhere else for dessert? I want to walk a while.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows.
“Dessert?”
Niklas managed a little smile. “Am I the only one who’s still hungry?”
THOUGH THE SUN had not yet hit the horizon, the night air was cold. Long shadows covered most of the narrow Södermalm backstreets, leaving only the tops of the old buildings in the orange glow of the fading day. The walk out of the restaurant had been quiet, the sting of the newspaper article still lingering. Caroline shivered, despite the heat from Niklas’s body next to hers. Niklas stopped and turned to her.
“You’re cold,” he said softly. He pulled her in so she was facing him and slowly rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
“I still can’t figure out how to dress for Stockholm weather,” she said. “I thought this was supposed to be summer.”
Niklas chuckled and fingered the scooped neckline of her dress.
“I think you’re
doing just fine.”
“Thank you,” she said. Then she reached up to touch his face with both her hands. For a moment, all traces of the weight of the article were gone from his eyes. “Thank you for everything.”
He leaned down and let his lips brush against hers, soft at first, and then, slowly, he let go of a little more of the emotion he was keeping on a tight leash. He explored her with his mouth, gently biting at her bottom lip before he searched deeper. His hands slid down her back, pulling her into the muscles of his warm body. Then he broke off, leaving her breathless. He tucked her hair behind her ear with one hand and leaned close again.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered in her ear, just before she felt his lips on the base of her neck. She let out something that resembled a gasp or a moan, and she felt him stir against her.
He pulled away a few inches and gave a little laugh.
“We’re a long way from home,” he said, straightening out her dress. Then he gave her an amused smile.
“Warmer?”
Caroline nodded and laughed.
He took her hand and they continued down the empty street, up a steep hill. They turned down another street, even narrower, lined with tiny red houses and paved in cobblestone.
“Wait,” she panted, stopping at the base of yet another hill. “I need a rest.”
She leaned against the entrance to a dark, stone building, trying to catch her breath.
“Where are we going?” Her voice came out as a whisper.
“There’s a place up on the cliffs that looks out over the water. They have couches and heaters and blankets… and desserts. It’s worth the walk. I used to go there a lot before I left for the U.S. We might even be able to catch some of the sunset. We’re not too far now.”
“Sounds perfect. Just give me a—” Caroline broke off and laughed. “Wait, you’re not even tired. You might need to carry me up this last hill.”
He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion and gave her a wicked smile. Then he took a step closer and smoothed her hair, his voice rough and husky.
“Is that an invitation?”
Caroline was surprised to feel all the desire, the hunger she had felt on the street a few blocks before flooding back through her, even stronger now, as his fingers touched her face again. Caroline shivered, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. How quickly it came on. How quickly her body could change from laughing to wanting. She had never realized how closely her emotions—laughter, joy, irritation, anger—all could connect so directly to physical need. Or was it just physical need? Caroline was at a loss to name the feeling of standing this close to Niklas, wanting to speed up time, skip forward to the place where she could feel his warm skin against hers, but at the same time wanting to slow down time, to stretch it out infinitely, keeping them forever in this moment of anticipation.
“We’re not in a hurry,” he said. He was standing so close, their bodies almost touching. “You look beautiful. I don’t think I told you that yet, but I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
“Thank you,” Caroline whispered, smiling up at him.
Niklas cupped his hand around the side of her face and let his thumb trace her lips.
“This is different, Caroline,” he said in a soft voice. “I don’t know what it is or why, but—”
Niklas stopped and shook his head.
“I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” he said. “I just want to be with you. All of the time.”
His kiss was a continuation where his words had left off. He covered her lips with a slow sadness he didn’t bother to hide. They wouldn’t speak about her leaving, but he hadn’t forgotten. He kissed her forehead and her cheeks and then found her mouth again. She lifted his shirt to warm her hands on the muscles of his stomach, and he responded with a small yelp.
“Whoa, you’re cold,” he said.
She pulled them back, turning red. But he took her hands and gently replaced them on his skin. His muscles contracted under her fingers and then released, accommodating the temperature. He continued to kiss her, and this time she felt a growing awareness of her hands on his bare skin. His kisses were deeper now, longer, revealing more and more of the parts of him he had tried so hard to tamp down back in the restaurant. She felt his hand on the back of her head, and her nails curled into his sides as he kissed her harder. Then he released her mouth and buried his head in the slope of her neck, and she could feel his rough breaths on her.
“We’re still a long way from home,” he chuckled. “If we do this much longer, it’s going to be hard to stop.”
“What if I don’t want to stop?” she whispered.
She felt him harden against her again, but he didn’t pull away this time.
“Here?” he said, looking up and down the empty street. Night was approaching, but it was far from dark yet.
“How about right there,” she said, nodding at the dark entryway next to them that led to what looked like a school. “I’ve never done anything like this. I want to try,” she whispered to him.
Again she felt him press against her, and he let out a small groan.
“Are you up for it?” she asked, suddenly unsure if she was pushing this too far.
“Oh, God, yes,” he said with a dark smile.
He took her hand and led her up the steps, into the long, narrow entry to a large stone building. Then her back was up against the wooden door, his large hands pressing into her shoulders, and the look he gave her made her heart jump. When he spoke, his voice was a ragged whisper.
“I want you so badly, Caroline. I can’t—I can’t hold on very long.”
Caroline found herself nodding back up at him, afraid of the way her own voice would come out if she tried to speak right then. The conflicts throughout dinner, their uncertain future, the minutes ticking down until her plane would leave—all of these tensions begged for release in its most basic form.
She reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, eliciting another groan from him. His hand slid down, over her hips and thighs until he found the edge of her dress. Then his fingers traveled up the inside of her leg until they reached the peak, sending an explosion through her. She bit into his shirt to contain the sounds that were coming from her mouth.
“Oh, you do want this, too, don’t you,” he growled as he slipped down the last of the barriers between their bodies.
He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt him, hard, waiting against her most sensitive parts. With one deep thrust, he pushed inside, and she couldn’t stop her cries of pleasure.
“Oh, Caroline,” came his groan, echoing in her ears as he thrust again, sending another jolt of ecstasy through her. He held her tight, her back against the wooden door, his muscles taut against her, and still she grabbed for him, wanting him closer.
“More,” she gasped.
He pushed into her again and again. Her body moved on its own, meeting each stoke with a passion she didn’t know she had. But it was there, and she met each of his thrusts, stronger and stronger, until he cried out in a long, guttural wail. He thrust one more time, pushing one last wave of pleasure through her, before she slipped from his arms as he reached with one hand on the door to steady himself. She rested on his other arm, her legs crumbling beneath her.
“Du är min, Caroline,” he breathed into her. “Min.”
“YOU WERE RIGHT,” said Caroline, turning to Niklas. She took the last bite of the chocolate cake and then set the plate back down on the low table.
“About what?”
“This place was worth the walk,” she said.
“Did I say that?” he asked, looking amused.
“Yes, when I was half way up the hill, panting. Right before—”
She stopped, turning red, but he just laughed.
“That’s why I don’t remember.”
Caroline sank back into the couch, into his arm that stretched out behind her, and Niklas pulled the blan
ket around both their bodies. In front of them, the water leading out to the Baltic Sea sparkled black. The sun had disappeared behind the city, but the sky still glowed a deep blue.
“I want you to stay,” Niklas whispered in her ear.
Caroline felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She thought it was gone, but now the knot twisted even worse than before.
“Niklas, I—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off before she could go on. “I don’t want you to answer. I’m not even asking you to stay. I know you’ve already made your decision. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”
Caroline found his lips waiting for her, warm and tender.
He drew back a little and smiled.
“Even that first day, when I watched you break into your apartment, I knew you were different,” he whispered.
“You mean the time you slammed the door in my face?” she said with a snort.
Niklas shook his head and laughed.
“I’m quite a charmer, aren’t I? My teammates had taken me out all night and, well, I wasn’t at my best.”
“But you were,” she said, her voice serious now. “I never thanked you for that night. For earlier, with that guy in the park, your teammate, I guess.”
Niklas nodded slowly.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “You know how you can repay me?”
Caroline shook her head.
“By promising not to go out alone at night again on this trip,” he said. “Or any time, for that matter.”
He was studying her face carefully for her reaction. He was serious.
“Okay,” she said softly. “You’re right.”
They were both quiet for a long time. Caroline closed her eyes, feeling Niklas’s body against hers.
“Maybe Tommy and Annika will decide to never come back from Brazil,” she said.
“A storybook ending,” he said in his deadpan joke voice.
Stockholm Diaries, Caroline Page 16