by Karen Ferry
“Come now, Emma, you do live here, remember?”
I wave a hand at him as I concede, “Well, yes, for now I do, but my student visa won’t be in effect in a year. What then?” I stop and put a hand on my hip. “And what about my parents? I know they miss me terribly, and if -- “ I turn my head in his direction -- “...if I say yes, that’ll mean they’ll see even less of me in the future.”
Andreas looks to the ceiling and rolls his eyes, an act so unusual for him to make that it almost causes me to laugh.
“Listen, Emma, I have considered all this -- even talked it over with your dad, and . . . ”
“You what?!” I shriek, mouth hanging open. “Wait, when? My dad hasn’t mentioned anything about this to me at all.”
My head is spinning and I feel weak at the knees of the enormity of what all this could mean.
“I phoned him a few months ago and talked it over with him,” Andreas explains calmly. “He said that he would miss you, but like you’ve told me yourself when I once asked you why you chose to come to Denmark to study: England is not that far away. Your parents can easily hop on a plane from time to time to visit you. He also promised that he wouldn’t say anything to your mother about this.”
Releasing a breath, I mutter, “Right. Well, good thinking, because my mum would never be able to keep such a secret from me.”
I think I need to have a little chat with dad later.
“He said something similar to me, actually,” Andreas’ amused tone interrupts my thought process once more, and I walk slowly back to his bed and resume my seat.
“Listen, Andreas, this is very generous of you . . . ,” I start.
“Don’t follow that with a ‘but’, Emma. I realise that this is a big surprise, and I understand that you can’t accept it today. However . . . ” He takes my hand in his and looks beseechingly into my eyes. “Please think about it. I know that there must be a lot of red tape and stupid bureaucracy you’ll have to go through should you decide to take over the shop, but I’ll help you. So will Daniel.”
I frown at him. “What does Daniel say about all this?”
“He’s absolutely fine with it. He has his own dreams and goals to follow . . . He doesn’t mind it if that’s what worries you?”
“Just a bit,” I reply weakly, but the knots in my tummy loosen up a bit by Andreas’ reassurance.
“For what it’s worth, I have no doubt in my mind that he’ll be overjoyed if you remain in Denmark, my dear,” he tells me, a huge grin on his face.
“Well . . . Maybe.” I shrug. “Okay, I promise I’ll think about it,” I say quietly and inhale deeply.
“You’re quite good at keeping secrets, you know,” I accuse fondly.
Andreas releases my hand and taps his nose.
“Oh yes, I know. I am very proud of myself, actually.”
I smile at him. “But . . . if I say yes . . . ” Tilting my head, I look questioningly at him. “What about you? Won’t you get bored if you retire? What will you do?”
“I’ve always wanted to travel to France, Emma, so some village in Alsace will probably become my new home,” he admits sheepishly, surprising me again.
“I see. I’ve never been to France,” I muse and look out the window, not really seeing anything. I’m completely consumed with his offer.
“You and Daniel will have to come visit me,” he says smugly, seemingly already assuming that he’s got his wish, so I turn back to him.
“We’ll see.”
For now, that’s the only answer I can give him, and I know he can hear the finality in my voice, because he nods and looks down at the chess board.
He moves the Queen forward and flips mine over. I know he’s won.
“Check-mate,” he states, and I shake my head, admitting defeat.
Perhaps in more ways than one.
Chapter 37
“Dad, how could you keep something like this from me?” I shout the minute, he picks up the phone. I haven’t even left the hospital yet, but I’m too caught up in my rampage to give a toss about the disapproving look a nurse gives as I pass her.
“Hello, darling, how are you?” my dad calmly greets me.
“How am I?!” I splutter as I push the door open and turn left to get to the nearest bus stop. “I’ve just seen Andreas -- my boss, Mr. Andersen, remember? It seems there’s a secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
My dad chuckles quietly. “I see he told you, did he?”
“Uh, yes! Honestly, Dad, this is not a minor detail such as, oh I don’t know, who won the World Championship in football. This is huge! My future!”
“Hey, football is a very important matter, Emma,” he replies, and I huff, exasperated.
“Dad!” I snap.
“Look, Emma, I realise that you’re surprised, and I understand that. But just breathe for a bit and think about it. You always tell your mum and me how much you love the shop, and your love for books hasn’t changed, has it?”
“No,” I mutter, sulking a bit as I slow down. Rubbing my forehead, I sigh. “Look, Dad, I’m just . . . well, I didn’t see this opportunity coming at all, okay? I never dreamed that Andreas would propose such a thing, and the fact that he blindsided me like that? Well, he’s a cunning old bugger, isn’t he?”
“Oh, he is. But look at it this way: if you hadn’t left Oxford and a similar opportunity presented itself . . . Would you accept it or not?”
My silence speaks volumes, because I know that I would jump in, feet first, if that was the case.
Dad goes on, “Exactly. Darling, please don’t worry about your mum and me. We’ll miss you, but we’ll come visit you. We’re not that far away, after all. Which reminds me . . . ” He clears his throat. “When are we going to meet that young man of yours?” The amusement is now absent from his voice, leaving that certain ‘Dad Tone’ instead.
Oh, merciful heaven . . .
I close my eyes briefly. “Mum told you about Daniel?”
“She couldn’t say much given the fact that you’ve been rather evasive about him whenever the two of you have spoken the last couple of weeks,” he replies sternly. “Or that’s what your mum tells me.”
“Right, of course. I’ll try to work something out and email you later,” I hedge.
“Excellent. And I’ll tell your mum and Nan about your new business venture,” he informs me excitedly.
“Hey, I haven’t accepted it yet,” I answer, voice raised again.
“No, but you will. I know you, my girl.”
I huff. “We’ll see. Talk later, Dad.”
“I hope so, sweetie. Don’t forget to email us, you hear?” he reminds me.
“I won’t. Love you, bye.”
I push the red button and shake my head.
So that went well, eh?
I need to talk to Daniel about this, and it has to be now.
Finding our last convo, I type a quick text to him:
Me: We need to talk. Meet me at my place? X
His reply lights up my screen shortly after.
Daniel: Yes, we do. Sure. See you soon.
As the bus stops in front of me, I keep looking at the screen, wishing for his usual parting ‘x’ to appear, but it doesn’t. With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I enter the bus and find a seat in the back. My previous excitement has left me, and dread settles deeply within me instead. All the way home, I wonder if his feelings for me have changed.
That he doesn’t love me anymore.
“Shit.” My crappy phone lost power just as I hit send, making me wonder if Emma got my reply to her text. I already know what it is she wants to talk with me about, though, because Andreas rang me this morning, letting me in on his plans to offer the bookshop to her.
I walk to her balcony door, watching the clouds gather in the distance while I wonder if she will accept it. The fact that she still hasn’t said those pesky, albeit important, three little words I desperately long to hear is beginning to bother me more than it pro
bably should.
I miss her.
I’ve been so busy since Andreas was admitted to the hospital last week that I’ve been utterly spent when I got home. Sorting out pending orders, taking care of customers, as well as trying to appease several publishers from the UK who demanded to speak with him alone, has been more than I can handle, and I know this. However, I want to prove a point to him and to Emma, I guess.
I am not weak.
I am not stupid.
I am not afraid.
I’m not so sure about the last part, though.
Even though the doctors feel confident that Andreas’s heart troubles can become stable, better even, with medication, exercise, and a stricter diet than he’s used to, I still fear that I’ll receive a phone call from the hospital where they tell me that he has passed away.
Irrational? Maybe.
But it feels bloody realistic to me.
Lightning bursts across the sky, making me take a step back from the door in surprise, and I’m worried that Emma will get caught up in the storm that’s about to hit us. Soon after, the rain starts pouring down, the sound of them falling making a racket the likes of which I can’t remember I have ever seen before. All storms are violent, but this one is particularly nasty, and I can’t shake the sense of foreboding that’s holding me in its grasp . . .
I turn to walk to the kitchen but halt in my tracks as Emma practically runs inside, slams the door behind her, and pulls back her dripping wet hair from her face. She blows out a breath, chest heaving -- she must have run from the bus stop around the corner -- and she closes her eyes as she shakes her hair back.
Holy shit.
I can’t breathe properly . . . I can’t speak . . . I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
She has never looked more beautiful as she does now.
Her mascara and makeup may be blotting her cheeks and neck, a complete mess, and giving her the most impressive pair of panda eyes I have ever seen, but I don’t care.
Right now, she looks younger than she is, and as she catches my eyes, there’s a vulnerability to hers I have not seen in a couple of weeks.
I’d like to think that I’ve been the reason for her joy and more positive attitude since we met.
Surely I can’t be the reason why that vulnerability has returned?
She wrenches her arms free of her jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and stalks towards me.
What the. . . ?
She stops right in front of me and jabs a finger in my chest.
“Are you breaking up with me?” she spits out, anger and hurt radiating from her entire being, and she’s shaking from the cold.
“What?!” I ask, flabbergasted that she would even think such a thing.
“Because if you are, there’s the door, Daniel!” she yells, her voice breaking on my name, and I reach an arm out to catch her hand. When she slaps it away, my own anger begins to simmer, though.
“Will you please calm down?” I ask her, gritting my teeth.
“Calm down? What the fuck, Daniel?” She crosses her arms over her chest and dabs at a wayward tear dripping on her cheek. “What am I supposed to think? You’ve been so distant the past week, and I understand that you’ve had a lot on your plate, but you haven’t even kissed me goodnight . . . What the fuck is that all about?!”
I take a step towards her and growl, “I’m worried about my uncle, okay? It has nothing to do with you!” Without meaning to, my last words come out as a shout, and she flinches.
“Considering the proposition he just dropped on me, I do actually think that it’s my business -- especially when I seem to be crazy enough to accept it,” she answers quietly, the fight having left her completely. The anger is gone, replacing it with hurt, and I sigh deeply, regretting with everything that I am to be the cause of it.
“You’re staying?” I ask her quietly, not even daring to breathe for fear of her answer.
She sniffles and looks down at her feet. “Well, I was,” she mutters. “Now . . . I’m not so sure.”
“Sweetheart . . . ,” I groan and move closer to her, placing my hand beneath her chin to bring her eyes back to mine. Although she’s reluctant to do it, she does lift her head eventually, and my other hand comes up to cup her cheeks affectionately.
Gently, I wipe away the tears and ruined make-up and smile sadly at her.
“Why?” I ask her, and she blinks rapidly.
“Why?!” she repeats, and I nod in earnest.
“Yes, tell me why you’re staying . . . I . . .” I hesitate, but force the words trapped in my throat out at last. “I want to hear you say it . . .” I swallow and take the final plunge, hoping and praying that I’m right about her. “I need you to say the words I have been longing to hear for so long.”
She puts a hand on my wrist, leaning into my touch and closes her eyes briefly.
Please . . . I’m begging you . . . Put me out of my misery.
She takes a deep breath and whispers, “I’m still scared, Daniel . . . ”
“Why?” I whisper back, so afraid that she doesn’t love me.
“Because . . . ” At last, her gaze meets mine. “Because it means you’ll have the power to break me, and I’m not even whole yet . . . not entirely.”
“Emma, sweetheart . . . ,” I beg, my desperation growing by the second. The raindrops become louder and louder -- or maybe it’s the sound of my heartbeat instead. I can’t tell.
“I. Love. You,” I whisper and close the gap between us by leaning my forehead to hers. “Haven’t I proven that to you yet? You’re the strongest person I know. You’re not broken.”
I need her eyes on mine.
“You’re shredding my heart . . . ,” I breathe and straighten my back. The tears brimming in her eyes almost bring me to my knees.
“That’s the last thing I want to do,” she sobs before she puts her arms around my neck. Smiling wobbly at me, she inhales deeply.
“I love you, too . . . ,” she says.
“Thank fuck,” I groan and finally -- finally --wrap my arms tightly around her waist before slamming my mouth down on hers.
Heaven.
Our tongues tangle, dancing the familiar dance, and I can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter. Her taste, her touch is all I’ll ever need . . . She makes me feel alive. I place a hand on her arse and pull her flush against me. She gasps when I press my cock into her stomach, and I wrench my mouth free, panting wildly.
“Let me have you, Emma . . . please let me make love to you?” I beg her, and again, I don’t give a fuck that she can hear how much I need to be close to her.
Eyelids heavy, she licks her lips, and I can’t keep the groan from escaping my mouth.
“Are you sure?” she asks me, and there’s no more uncertainty to trace in her voice . . . Only love.
“I ache for you, sweetheart . . . I want you so fucking much I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself and spill my need for you in my jeans,” I chuckle, and she smiles teasingly at me.
“Oh, no, we can’t have that.” She leans up on her toes and whispers, “Kiss me again, please . . . I want you so much.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
My cock throbs with need for her as I lean down to ravage her mouth once more. She’s just as hungry as I am, sucking on my tongue as she starts to yank my t-shirt free of my jeans and lifts it further up. I raise my arms in the air, briefly lose her mouth and pull it the rest of the way, and I toss it carelessly on the floor.
“Give me that mouth again,” I demand as I pick her up, and she eagerly complies and wraps her legs around me. Her fingers grab fistfuls of my hair, pulling down, but the sting doesn’t bother me. It only makes me wilder for her, and my teeth pull at her lip ring. She jumps in my arms and angles her head to the side, kissing me deeply. I walk to her bed and put her down, pressing my shaking body into hers, and as much as I’m drowning in her kiss, I need to taste her skin . . .
“I’ll never get enough of you, Daniel,” she pant
s as my mouth trails across her collarbone, my tongue licking her freckles there. “I love you so much, honey . . . ”
Bloody hell . . . this girl . . .
I lift up on my knees and reach my hands down to undo the button on her shorts, in a hurry to get my tongue on her slick heat, and I grab the ends and start to pull at them.
“Shite,” I curse when the wet material doesn’t budge. “Help me out here, please, sweetheart,” I grin crookedly.
She giggles and our hands fumble for a while, and I can’t keep the nervous laugh bubbling up in my throat inside.
“This is awkward,” I grumble, annoyed. “How the hell did you get them on to begin with?”
Emma reaches a hand up to caress my cheek.
“Get the scissors in the kitchen and cut them open . . . ,” she tells me, and I stumble off the bed to do as she says.
“Sure you won’t miss them?” I ask her as I get back, unbuttoning my jeans with one hand.
She licks her lips, her gaze hungry, and replies huskily, “Fuck them. I need to feel your cock inside me . . . now.”
“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I breathe and start cutting open her shorts. As soon as she’s able to, she kicks them off, picks the tattered pieces up and throws them on the floor.
When I discover that she’s not wearing anything at all, her pussy bare for me to see, I growl, “You’re killing me here. Have you been walking around all day like that?” I yank down my pants and boxers quickly and palm my balls.
She nods and lies down, bends her knees slightly and spread her legs widely for me.
“Lose the top and your bra,” I demand, revelling in the power she is handing over to me. I’m running the show, and fuck if I don’t love it. She does as I say and lies back down on the bed.
“Hurry up,” she moans, her hands cupping her tits, but I shake my head at her.
“Oh no, I’m going to take this as slowly as possible . . . make you grow wild for me.”