Maybe Baby (16 page)

"Eddy says I should just focus on Niklas." But I knew, deep down, I didn't want to follow Eddy's advice this time. I wanted to unfurl my wings.

"You could. You've been doing that for five years, though, and it doesn't seem to give you any satisfaction. It never has." The cold edge of Ingrid's tone caught me off-guard. I blinked at her.

"I thought you liked Niklas," I said cautiously.

"I do like him. He's charming, he's handsome, he's the perfect guest." Ingrid stood and shook her strawberry blonde hair back from her face. "But I just don't like how you stop being you when you're with him. And I don't think he appreciates you, not really. I think you're his pretty American girlfriend he likes to show off. But I don't think you'll ever be more than that for him."

She walked toward the edge of the house, and I fo
llowed her. From where we stood, we could see the trio of men, standing by the open French doors to the dining room, passing a joint and talking. For once, Niklas looked perfectly relaxed. His hair was mussed, his clothes less strict. He'd unbuttoned his shirt at the collar and removed his blazer. Why couldn't he always be like that? Mads was the only one who sensed we were watching and looked over his shoulder at us. I raised my hand in a discrete wave. He smiled back at me. Niklas didn't turn. I heard him say something about babies, and how I wanted one. He made it sound like a silly joke, like something insubstantial and whimsical. I asked myself why I was still with him, but then he finally looked my way and the smile he gave me sent me reeling inside. It was that secret smile he used to give me when we were first dating, the one that seemed to encapsulate every passionate moment we'd ever had and concentrate it in the slow slide of his lips.

I blinked and looked away.

No, this was crazy.

Inside again, I retreated to the small powder room in the front hall. I turned on the cold-water tap and let the water cool down my wrists, but it didn't seem to help. I still felt on the verge of tears. There was no point in cr
ying. Not really. Niklas was behaving as though there was nothing out of the ordinary taking place. Even though he'd studied the sperm donor files, he didn't recognize Mads. They were back inside now. Mads and Anton were in the hall, just on the other side of the door, speaking Danish together in hushed tones. I heard my name. I froze. What were they saying? I wished I'd paid more attention all those times Ingrid had tried to teach me Danish. I opened the door and stepped into the hall. Mads stopped in mid-sentence. He was flushed, his neck burning pink, his stance tense. Anton stopped too.

"Hi," I said to Mads. I focused on him, on the grim line of his mouth, of his dipped head and the way he wouldn't look at me. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Don't joke, Laney."

Anton glanced over his shoulder. "
I'm not sure I want to know what's going on... but does Niklas know?"

I gestured at the door. "Where is he?"

"He's in the kitchen, helping Ingrid load the dishwasher."

"He suspects... look, I didn't want to bring you and Ingrid into this, but now you know."

"This is too close for comfort," Mads muttered. "I'm going home."

"
I'm out of this," Anton announced. "Mads, thanks for swinging by."

"I'll see you at the workshop." He and Anton bumped fists and then Mads cast a look my way. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth formed a grim, tight line. "Tue
sday?"

Anton nodded. "Yeah, on Tuesday. See you then." Then Anton shook his head at me and returned to the kitchen.

I opened the front door and went out into the night. The air was milder now. Tiny goose bumps dotted my skin as I stood by the gate. When Mads came out, he was shaking his head.

"This was a little weird." I said with an embarrassed grin.

Mads edged closer to me. "This was too weird, Laney."

I nodded. "Just... kiss me before you go?"  The look on his face scared me. If this was too weird, would he pull away? I needed him. I didn't want to be with Niklas, so why couldn't I just tell him and leave?

He took my face in his hands and brushed his lips across mine. We stood there like that—my hands gripping his jeans-clad hips, the two of us kissing each other lightly, tenderly—until from somewhere down the road we heard the staccato laughter of a couple passing by. I stepped back and whispered goodbye to him. Mads pulled me closer again for one more kiss, this one deeper and more passionate. When we parted, he opened the gate and stepped out onto the uneven pavement. My lips still ached for his. I brushed my fingers over them and watched as he walked away and disappeared around the corner. I turned and went back inside. Someone had turned on music, and Nina Simone was singing how her baby just cared for her.

I sat down on the couch and let my head fall back on the cushion. In the kitchen, Niklas was laughing at something Anton had said. Ingrid's soft voice added a
nother layer to the music as she wondered when the girls would come home. It was closing in on midnight. I ought to go in the kitchen and join them. Ingrid called for me and I answered, "I'll be there in a second," but I didn't move from the couch. I needed a few more moments, to re-imagine Mads's lips on mine, the roughness of his palms and fingers as they touched my face, how for a moment the world froze and there was just us.

*      *      *

That night, I couldn't sleep. I told myself it was because I'd had too many glasses of wine, but that was an empty excuse. Beside me, Niklas slept peacefully. Maybe it was the marijuana. But I couldn't think, I couldn't sleep. I climbed out of bed and went to the window. Niklas had closed it before he went to sleep, and now the air was too still. I opened both windows and was rewarded with a cool breeze. Niklas stirred. I returned to bed and tried to absorb some of his sleep vibes. I moved closer to him, draped my arm over his waist and kissed his shoulder. He slept so deeply, his breathing coming in long, slow draws. Normally, lying close to him was enough to help me drift off, but there were too many thoughts crowding my mind. But one treacherous thought troubled me most—I knew Mads's address. I could have slipped away and gone to him. And no matter how easily I could have been caught, I was convinced it would have been worth it.

CHAPTER
NINE

A Slight Wrinkle

B
y the time we returned to Stockholm, Niklas seemed more confident than ever. He was affectionate again, though he was not as watchful of me. I couldn't relax. Whenever he spoke to me, I expected him to mention meeting Mads and finally making the connection, but I focused on work, trying to meet my deadline without having to work late too often. I kept telling myself that work would keep me from being idle enough to text Mads. Things were silent on his end. I didn't want jealousy to spring to life in me and have me wondering if he'd met someone else. I didn't want to second-guess him. But then our client sprang some last-minute rejections on us, and my team and I had to scramble to re-sketch our concept. In the chaos, I'd nearly forgotten about Mads's proposed visit, but then he sent a text midweek, saying he'd booked a room at Hotel Rival near Mariatorget and wondered if this was okay.

I closed the door to my office. I was working from home again. Niklas had been in and out of the apartment all day. I called Mads and spoke to him in a hushed voice, "When do you arrive?"

"Tomorrow evening. Is that too soon?"

"No, it's perfect. We should be able to have a lot of time together."

"What about Niklas?"

"He's got some kind of seminar in Göteborg. He'll be gone Friday and Saturday."

"Good. I don't want a repeat of last weekend."

"Neither do I." I said softly.

"We're taking a really big risk, aren't we?"

"We are," I admitted. "This is crazy. Why are we d
oing this?"

"
I'm doing it because I want to be near you."

"I want that, too." The words felt so true. It was no longer the thrill of doing something illicit. I don't think it ever was simply about the excitement of being unfait
hful. I knew as soon as saw him. I knew with a certainty that he was the one I wanted to be with.

We spoke a few more moments, finalizing our plans, before we ended the call. The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. He would be here tomorrow. No more lon
ging and pretending I could still hear his voice in my head. No more zoning out Niklas as I tried to hold on to a memory of how Mads had kissed me before he left Ingrid and Anton's house. I couldn't wait to be in his arms again, to feel his warmth enveloping me. The anticipation sparked and crackled inside me. I was taking a ridiculous risk. Stockholm was too small. It liked to think of itself as a metropolis, but it was really a small town dressed up in big city clothing. So many times I bumped into colleagues or Niklas's friends in hole-in-the-wall bars that were too hipster for them. There was always that uncomfortable moment when we all had to stand around and pretend we were enjoying the surprise encounter. I didn't want to chance it this weekend. This time, I wanted to have my full weekend with Mads, that wouldn't be interrupted by unwanted company.

"I'm taking Siri and Jesper to London next weekend," Niklas announced over dinner. "Would you like to come with us?"

I loved London—its frenetic energy, the crush of pe
ople, the shopping, and the museums—but I couldn't stomach the idea of going there with Niklas and his kids. Even though they were old enough now to take care of themselves, weekend trips with them always ended up with arguments and hissy fits. Siri would do something wildly inappropriate, and then Niklasʼs usually even temper would flare into embarrassed fury. Jesper, not wanting to be the odd man out, would then do something equally ridiculous, and Niklas would transform into the version of him that I hated—Mr. Psycho Babble, the super therapist version of him that could spend hours asking you therapist-like questions as he tried to get you to see the root of your actions.

The kids usually never fell for it—he'd done this to them too many times when they were younger—but this was his modus operandi, and he tried it nonetheless. I hated it. I steeled myself and pretended I was not with them. I'd leave them to it and hole up in a café or in the hotel bar with a good book and my phone. I'd sit there for hours, until Niklas finally called and was calm again. The worst part about it was the awful tension that pe
rmeated the rest of the weekend. Siri and Jesper formed a united front of teenage indignation, while Niklas pointedly avoided talking to them. It forced me into the role of the mediator or ringmaster. I ended up being the one who had to maintain civil dinner conversation.

"I think it's better if you and the kids go on your own." I was already trying to figure out if I would be able to go to Copenhagen that weekend. "We're still tr
ying to finish the Ogilvy project, so I'll probably be working all next weekend."

"What about this weekend? Do you think you can meet me in Göteborg?" He refilled his wine glass, and then topped up mine.

"I've got to finish the brochure text and the press junket material," I said quickly. "That's probably going to take all weekend."

"We're not going to be able to continue like this if we're going to have a baby, you know." The smugness in his voice grated at me. He often worked longer hours than I did. His patients called at all hours of the night. I doubted that would change even if we had children. It
hadn't changed in the years we'd raised his children together.

"I know."

"Did you make an appointment for us to meet with Ida at the clinic?"

"She didn't have any free appointments until the s
econd week of October, so I booked one for Friday the tenth." I set down my glass of wine and started scrolling through my phone's calendar.

"Shit, that doesn't work... I promised Jesper I'd take him to Manchester for a football weekend." He was scrolling through his phone now, checking his calendar. "What about the weekend after that?"

"I'm free," I said. "We'll have to check with Ida."

"Will you book it?"

"Yes, of course I will."

Niklas refilled his wine glass. "You know,
I'm really impressed with Anton."

"Why's that?" I watched Niklas carefully, curious to see where he was going with this.

"Well, he's found a new passion with woodworking," Niklas explained. "I never saw him as a hands-on sort of person. I thought for sure he was more of an 'art from a distance' person—the person who writes about something beautiful without creating something beautiful."

"His poetry is beautiful."

"It's not the same thing. Poetry is still from a distance. You simply use words—something abstract, not something concrete—to create something of beauty. But wood... now that is something tangible."

"Maybe the next time we visit, we'll get to see this t
able of his." I said very casually. I didn't want to dwell too much on it too much. It would bring Niklas too close to Mads, and I didn't want to discuss Mads with him. "Ingrid says it's coming along nicely."

We both finished our glasses of wine. There was a strange silence between us. I waited for Niklas to co
ntinue with his train of thought, but he was now reading a text message on his phone screen. The longer the silence continued, the more the tension seemed to grow. I cleared the table for something to do.

Finally, I asked him, "Are you thinking of taking up woodworking?"

Niklas chuckled. "No, no. Nothing like that. I thought it was interesting."

I loaded the dishwasher and then put the bottle of wine back in fridge. Niklas pushed away from the table. "
I'm surprised you're taking Jesper to Manchester," I said.

"Well, I did promise him."

"Isn't it a bit like rewarding him for bad behavior?" I asked. "I mean, he and Siri disregarded a rule you've always said you hold dearly, and you said you were going to make them accept the consequences of their actions."

"
Jesper's already paid his share of the cleaning bill."

"What about Siri?"

"She's going to pay, too. She just couldn't afford to do it this month." But Niklas didn't sound very convinced. We both knew the likelihood of her paying for anything was rather low. She'd already made it clear she didn't think she'd done anything wrong, and that we were being unreasonable.

I didn't want to push the issue any further. I could see the terse look forming on
Niklasʼs face. But I was still annoyed that, even after Niklas had stood up to them, Siri was still flagrantly disregarding his wishes by bringing strangers home to us. Last night, she'd come in at two in the morning with a young man she'd met at a Stureplan bar. I'd woken Niklas and let him know it was happening again, but he only knocked on Siri's door and asked her to quiet down.

"When are we going to do something about Siri and her nighttime visits?" I asked.

"She's eighteen. I can't stop her from sleeping with her boyfriends."

"Niklas, these aren't boyfriends. They're one-night stands. And why does she have to bring them to our place? Does she do this to Karolina?"

"Laney..."

"It's not right, Niklas. It's disrespectful to us."

"So now you're concerned about 'us'?"

I faltered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it, Laney. Forget I said anything."

"No, I want to know what you mean." My hands were balled into fists. I steeled myself for whatever he had to
say. I knew it would come back to that strange conversation we'd had in my hotel room. "I've always been concerned about us—even when I knew your kids came before 'us'—I've put them before 'us' so many times, and they still treat me like a visitor in what's supposed to be our home."

"This isn't really about them, though, is it?"

"If I ask you what's going on with Jesper and Siri, and the consequences of disrespecting our house rules, then it is about them."

Niklas shook his head and walked out of the room. I watched, angry that he was just walking away, but not surprised. There was nothing to be gained in following him. This would just swell and fester. I cursed and slammed my hand on the kitchen counter. Sharp pain coursed through my fist and I cursed again. Why was I even starting such a silly argument with Niklas? Even if I was upset by how disrespectful Siri was towards us, it had nothing to do with my reason for bringing it up. I knew it, Niklas knew it. And it didn't make me feel like a very nice person. I was beginning to think I wasn't very nice at all.

*      *      *

Later, when our tempers had calmed and it was time to go to bed, I wandered through the apartment, looking for Niklas. I found him on the balcony, staring down into the inner courtyard of our building. The small garden seemed to shimmer under the glow of light spilling out
of the apartments, and the web of white fairy lights cocooning some of the hedges.

"
I'm sorry," I said to his back and touched his shoulder.

"Me, too." He didn't turn. His shoulders sagged. "We seem to be apologizing a lot these days."

"I know."

"Maybe we should wait a little while longer with ha
ving a baby, Laney. It doesn't feel like this is the right time. For you, for me. It feels like we’re in flux, and I don't know if we should even try if we're so unstable."

I couldn't argue with him. He was right. We shouldn't have been thinking about bringing a child into a rel
ationship like ours. I wound my arms around his waist and leaned into him. The fragility of what was between us didn't prevent me from seeking some sense of security from him.

"I feel like you're not here one hundred percent, Laney. I know you're not satisfied. And I want to make you happy. But I don't know what you want anymore."

Tell him, was the thought going through my head. Tell him what's wrong. But the words were like dust in my mouth. And maybe there was no point in telling him if I was already mentally with someone else. But that was the thing—I wanted to be with Mads, but there was still a part of me that didn't want to walk away from Niklas. I still loved him. But I was in love with—or maybe I was in love with idea of—Mads. I still barely knew him, but when I thought about the kiss we'd shared by the gate, that moment when the whole world disappeared and there were only us and the taste of his mouth and the touch of his skin on mine, I couldn't just ignore it. I didn't know if it was love. I didn't know anything more than that his body made mine spark to life.

"
I still love you, Niklas." I took his hand and led him back into the apartment. "I do."

We made our way to our bedroom. We didn't make love, but we held each other until sleep began to weave its web around us. At some point, I heard Jesper come into the apartment. He called out for Niklas and me, but when neither of us answered, he crept into his room, closing the door quietly. I wished it could always be like that. But I knew there was another storm looming in the distance.

"
It's been decided that you, Marius, and Johan are going to have to work more closely with the client."

I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable as I waited for Jens to continue. I'd planned on working from home again, but he'd called me and said I needed to show everyone I hadn't disappeared off the face of the earth. From anyone else, it would have sounded like a severe reprimand, but Jens was laid back enough in the way he said it that you didn't feel like you were being coerced into anything.