I get up, go over to the window, and I see that the snow that had started to fall last night has only amounted to a very light dusting. Enough to make everything look really pretty, though, and I make a mental note to take lots of pictures today. My penultimate day here in Stockholm. Tomorrow’s my last full day. My birthday. And I still have a lot of thinking to do.
I grab a quick shower, get dressed, and pack everything I need for today into my bag, and it’s only when I pull on my coat, rooting around in my pockets for my gloves, that I find the note.
You know where I am…
He must’ve slipped it into my pocket last night, and I can’t help smiling. Again. I’ve smiled a lot, since I met Erik Nilsson.
Heading downstairs, into the small café next door, the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls hits me the second I walk inside. And as I glance over at the counter I catch Lina’s eye, and she grins at me as she holds up a mug of coffee and a plate with two cinnamon rolls on it.
“Want these?” She mouths, and I nod, sitting down at a table by the window. “I’m on a break,” Lina says as she sits down opposite me. “So, come on. Talk.”
I look at her. “You get straight to the point, don’t you?”
She shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Life’s too short.”
“What do you want me to talk about, exactly?”
“You’ve seen him again, haven’t you?”
“Who?”
“My break’s only ten minutes, can you quit being evasive? Mr. Sweden. You’ve seen him again.”
She’s not even asking a question now, and I can’t help but smile. “Yes, I saw him again.”
Lina already knows why I’m here; about my failed marriage and my need for some space. It’s amazing how much information you can cram into a half hour chat, but me and Lina, we just clicked from the second she handed me my first gingerbread latte, yesterday morning.
I look down into my mug, wrapping my hands around it to warm them up. “We went back to his place…” I look up at her. “And you can lower those eyebrows, we just talked.”
“That’s it? You just talked?”
I drop my gaze again. I don’t want to tell her about the kiss, it seems a little too personal. Too intimate. Too private. I kind of want to keep that memory to myself, for now.
“So, you didn’t take my restaurant recommendation, then?”
“No, I did. It was afterwards, when I saw him. I was in the square, and he just kind of found me.”
She affects an almost dreamy expression, and I frown. Lina doesn’t strike me as the dreamy type. With her short dark hair, pierced nose and myriad of tattoos she seems way too edgy to be dreamy. Or am I just stereotyping here?
“So romantic,” she sighs, raising her eyes skywards. “Are you seeing him again?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it’s Christmas, and he runs a restaurant so, he’s going to be really busy. And I want to make the most of my time here, I’ve only got a couple of days left.”
“Do you want to see him again?”
I don’t know. I still can’t answer that, so I don’t. But Lina seems to take my silence as a yes.
“Go see him, Eva. Go on. Live a little.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. I didn’t come here to meet someone, it was the last thing I wanted. And I don’t know if seeing Erik… I don’t know, Lina.” I finish my coffee and stand up. “Anyway, I’ll see you later. I’m going to play at being a tourist now.”
“Life’s too short, Eva.” Lina shouts after me. “Remember that.”
***
Shielding my eyes from the low winter sun, I stare up at the Swedish Royal Palace. I’m in the Outer Courtyard, the main area for the changing of the guard, and despite the cold weather I’m surrounded by fellow tourists, all taking photographs and gazing up in awe at the imposing baroque-style building that towers above us. I’ve walked full-circle around the building, taking photographs of each façade – northern, southern, eastern, and finally ending up here at the western façade. It was one of the places I’d really wanted to see when I’d planned my trip here. One I can now tick off my list.
Tucking my phone back into my pocket I glance up at the palace one more time before I turn to go. I head back towards Stortorget and the square, it’s not a long walk, and I’m hungry now. My morning of sightseeing has given me an appetite, and the square has quite a selection of cafés and bars to choose from. But I’m going to try another one of Lina’s recommendations. She told me of a place that, in her opinion, serves some of the best Swedish meatballs in Gamla Stan, and I figured it would be rude not to try them. But when I reach the tiny café, tucked away between other, more prominent eateries, I stop outside first and scan the menu, just to see what else is on offer.
“My meatballs are just as good as these ones. If not better.”
His voice is deep and low and now oddly familiar, and I slowly turn around, his handsome face breaking into a grin the second my eyes meet his.
“You really are stalking me, aren’t you? What did you do, hmm? Slip a tracking device into my bag when I wasn’t looking?”
“It’s a small place, and I figured you’d be around here somewhere, you know, you have to eat.” He smiles that lopsided smile at me, and I cross my arms, keeping my gaze on him. “Did you get my note?”
“I did.”
“So, were you on your way to find me? I mean, it’s lunchtime, and like I said, you have to eat.”
“I’m going to hope that you’ve still got your tongue in your cheek there.”
He just shrugs, and I laugh and shake my head. I really hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but now that he hasn’t given me all that much choice… Yeah. I’m actually glad he’s found me.
“And, I’m having lunch here.” I’m standing my ground. I don’t want to eat at his place, I want to eat at a place of my choice.
“Okay, then I’ll join you. It never hurts to keep an eye on the competition.”
“No, hang on, I didn’t invite you to join me. I want to eat alone.”
He raises an eyebrow, which kind of irritates me. It reminds me that, despite the fact he’s hot and handsome and undeniably sexy, he’s still way too cocky for me. I’m not sure I can deal with his arrogance.
“You want to be alone?” He frowns.
“You’re not used to that, huh? Being alone? Or, is it women rejecting you you’re not used to?”
“Is that what you’re doing? Rejecting me?”
“Well, I think rejection’s probably too strong a word…”
“I prefer company, that’s all. Especially when it’s as beautiful as you are.”
I roll my eyes, and I laugh again. I can’t help it. “And just so you know, lines like that are never going to work on me.”
He shrugs as he starts to back away. “Okay. Okay, I get the message. You don’t want company. I’ll leave you to your solitary lunch.”
When he puts it like that, it makes me sound sad, and now I want to call him back, tell him he can join me, if he really wants to, but if I do that he’s controlled the situation. And that isn’t what I want, so I let him go, but I’m surprised at how upset I am that he was here, and I let him walk away. But I think I had to.
My lunch of meatballs, mashed potato and lingonberries, washed down with a glass of cold Swedish beer, was delicious. And afterwards, I spent an hour or so just wandering around the side streets and the market, taking in all the sights and sounds – not to mention the incredible smells – of a Scandinavian Christmas. It was a lovely way to while away a cold but bright December afternoon, and as I walk back towards the hotel I’m starting to crave a mug of something warm and comforting. I might pop into the café before I go to my room, see if Lina’s around.
She looks up as I walk in, and her face breaks into the widest smile as I approach the counter.
“What are you looking so happy about?” I ask, scanning the array of cakes in the chiller. I didn’t have dessert after my meatballs, I was to
o full up, but I’m starting to feel a little bit hungry again now.
“Someone left this for you.”
I look up and frown as Lina hands me a pale blue envelope.
“A tall, drop-dead-gorgeous someone,” she carries on as I take the envelope from her. “He said you’d know who he was.” She leans forward, crossing her arms on the countertop, and she stares at me, jerking her chin down towards the envelope. “You gonna open that?”
“In a minute.”
“So, was that him?”
“Hmm? Sorry?”
“The drop-dead-gorgeous specimen who left that for you. Was he the one who lured you into his apartment last night?”
“Of course that was him. I’ve only been in Gamla Stan two days, how many men do you think I’ve had time to meet?”
“Just open it, will you?”
I look inside and pull out a small square card.
“Ooh, let me see!”
Lina reaches out and takes the card from me. I go back to checking out the cakes.
“Why’s he talking about Rudolph?” She frowns.
“I dunno. He said something about reindeer fillets the other day, maybe that’s what he’s on about.”
“Oh, right. So, are you taking him up on his invitation?”
“What invitation?”
I’m only half listening. I’m still coming to a decision on cake.
“Didn’t you read this?”
I look at her. “You didn’t give me time.”
She hands the card back to me, and I glance down at it. He’s invited me to join him for dinner at his restaurant. Tonight. On him. See? Cocky. Too self-assured. Or maybe he’s just persistent, I don’t know. Last night he seemed different, which makes me wonder if his cockiness isn’t just something he hides behind, for whatever reason. But there’s still a part of me that thinks I should take a step back. I really don’t know if seeing him again is a good idea. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Whatever this actually is.
“So? You going to go?”
“I might.”
“You should go.”
I slide the card into my pocket. “I’ll think about it. And I didn’t come in here for relationship advice, I came in here for cake.”
“And cake you shall have. The advice I’ll give you anyway, whether you want it or not.”
I choose something chocolate and cherry-filled and look outside, it’s starting to snow again. Just lightly, but it makes everything so much prettier at this time of year. I like the snow. I like it here. I feel strangely comfortable in unfamiliar surroundings, and I don’t know what to make of that. Maybe I just had too much beer with those meatballs at lunch.
“Does he speak good English?” Lina asks as she hands me my cake and a pastry fork and holds up a mug, jerking her head in the direction of the coffee and hot chocolate machine behind her.
“He speaks perfect English.”
“That’s good then, isn’t it?”
“Well, it helps. And I’ll have a gingerbread latte, please.”
I have a few minutes respite from Lina’s questions while she makes my coffee, so I use that time to enjoy my cake, and retrieve Erik’s card from my pocket, staring down at it as I eat. It’s just a scribbled note, really, but his handwriting is neat and the card smells of his cologne. It’s a very personal note, actually, now I think about it. And I feel my stomach give another little flip, something it did quite a lot last night, even if I’d spent most of the evening trying to ignore that fact.
“You all right?” Lina asks, placing my latte down in front of me.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Dunno. You just looked like you’d drifted off for a bit there.”
“I’m fine.” I shovel the last of the cake into my mouth and take a sip of latte, the subtle heat from the ginger filling my mouth, sliding down my throat, warming my belly.
“I know you’ve only told me a little bit about what happened between you and your husband, Eva. Anything else, that isn’t my business, I know but, just know this, okay? You’re beautiful and funny and I’ve only known you two days yet, it feels like I’ve known you forever. So, whatever he did…”
“He didn’t really do anything, Lina. Nothing bad, anyway. He didn’t cheat on me, he didn’t give me any reason to hate him, but, I think that’s what makes it worse, in a funny kind of way.”
I look at her, and she smiles, and I know I’ve made a new friend in Lina. She’s going to be a reason why I come back here.
“You’re not feeling guilty, are you? That you’ve met this tall, handsome, Swedish stranger?”
I laugh a little. Lina makes me feel alive, for some reason. Like it’s okay, to do what I’m doing. To feel what I’m feeling. She isn’t afraid to live, so, why should I be?
“No, I’m not feeling guilty. I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”
“No, you haven’t. So, did you bring anything sexy to wear?”
“Not really, no. I hadn’t been planning on dinner dates with a sexy Swede.”
“Then you can borrow something of mine. I’ve got loads of dresses that will look sensational on you. And, if he decides to tear it from your body…”
“Nobody’s tearing anything from anybody, okay?” I sigh, rolling my eyes.
“Oh, you are so going to have to get used to getting back on that horse, missy.”
I look down at the empty plate and my mug of gingerbread latte. “Oh, Christ, how many calories have I just put away?”
“You need to work them off, then, don’t you?” Lina winks as she clears my debris from the counter. I just throw her a look. “Give me five minutes, all right? I just need to tidy up back here then I’m done for the day. We can go to my place and find you a killer dress that will burn that man’s eyeballs tonight.”
“You worry me.”
She just gives me the widest grin. “You have a lot to learn from me, Eva.”
I have a lot to learn, period. And I’ve got a feeling my lessons are only just beginning.
Five
He’s outside the restaurant when I arrive, tall, handsome and stupidly sexy in a light grey suit and open-necked black shirt, his dark-blond hair pushed back off his face, his jawline covered by a few days’ worth of growth.
“Hey.” He smiles, resting his hand on my hip as he leans in to kiss my cheek. And the second his lips graze my skin my stomach flips again, I feel like a teenager on prom night.
“Hey back.”
“You got my card, then?”
“No, actually, I was just passing and, you know…” I shrug, “here you are.”
His smile widens, and I feel my breath catch in my throat, he’s so beautiful. And so fucking Swedish!
“You hungry?” he asks, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“I’m not eating reindeer.”
He laughs quietly and holds out his hand, but I pause for a second before I take it. Yet, when his fingers curl around mine, I like the feeling, it’s nice, to have my hand held again. It’s funny how you miss something so simple; how good it is to feel another hand resting in mine, holding it tight. Why had that stopped happening? That’s a question I still don’t know the answer to. Or, maybe I do. And I’m still ignoring it.
I follow him into the restaurant, and it’s busier tonight. The small bar area is full of people, and there doesn’t seem to be a free table available from what I can see. I cling onto his hand even tighter as we weave our way through the tables, until we reach the back of the restaurant, and there, in a somewhat secluded corner, is a table for two next to a small, square window that looks out onto the street, a candle-lantern flickering away on the window-sill giving it all a very cosy, Christmassy feel. I look at him, and his face breaks into another wide smile. A truly beautiful smile. It lights up his already ridiculously handsome face, and it makes me realise how much I’d stopped noticing things, back home. How I’d never really stopped to take notice of peoples’ smiles or the way something as simple as h
olding someone else’s hand could make you feel safe.
Loved.
Wanted.
And then his smile turns to a frown, and I’m aware of his hand squeezing mine a little tighter.
“Eva? Are you okay?”
“Hmm? Sorry…? Oh, yes. Yes, I’m fine, I was just thinking…” I trail off, leaving that sentence unfinished. “This place – all of this, it’s beautiful,” I whisper, because it is.
He throws me a smaller smile and pulls his hand from mine, and I’m surprised at how empty that makes me feel. I want him to hold my hand again, to squeeze it tight, to let me know that this can happen again. That someone will hold my hand, again, that it isn’t gone forever.
He pulls out a chair and I sit down, I’m enjoying this display of old-fashioned chivalry, despite it being something I’ve never been used to. Never wanted or needed. But this – I like this. Why shouldn’t I indulge in something different? Something that makes me feel good, for a little while? I’ll be going back home in a day or so, but while I’m here, I’m making the most of this.
“Has this table always been here?” I ask, glancing outside at people walking by, all wrapped up against the cold; at the Christmas lights from the shop opposite twinkling away, the Christmas tree in its window bright and colourful amidst a display of wooden toys and Christmas decorations.
“It’s always been here. It’s just usually reserved for very special occasions, that’s all.”
“Is that what this is? A special occasion?” I look up at him as he sits down opposite me.
“Maybe. Now, are you sure you don’t want to try the reindeer steak?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
“I’m sure.”
I look right into his bright blue eyes, and he smiles that smile again, the one that’s beginning to affect me more and more the longer I spend with him.
“Okay, so, how about the salmon? Do you like salmon?”
I let a couple of beats go by before I answer his question. “I do now. Well, it’s not that I didn’t like it before, I just found it a little dull, to be honest.. But my husband, he used to cook an amazing crispy fried salmon dish with carrot purée, dill sauce and wilted spinach. He changed my mind about salmon. I always used to think it quite bland, until he cooked me that dish.”
This Christmas in Stockholm Page 3