Maybe Baby (26 page)

"I know it," Niklas replied. "You and I, we ate there once."

I'd forgotten about that. But now he'd mentioned it, I remembered us going there after seeing a modern ballet performance at Dansens Hus. "All right, let's head there, then."

We walked out into the cold air and proceeded to Cloud Nine. It was a slow night, so we were able to get a table without waiting. And then it happened: we fell back into our usual routine. I annoyed him by reading the menu aloud and musing over which entree suited me best. He annoyed me by sitting in silence, not lifting his eyes from the menu, barely reacting when I asked him if he thought one dish was better than the other.

After we'd ordered, Niklas finally said, "I miss you, Laney. I know it's too late to say it, but it's true."

I drew back my hand. I didn't know what to do with his confession. "Niklas, we can't go there."

"I can't tell you I miss you?"

"No. It doesn't feel right. I'm with Mads."

"I know that, I can't help but know it. Doesn't change how I feel about you, though."

Our glasses of wine arrived, along with our escargot starter. Now that the escargot was in front of me, it felt wrong to eat it. It was too sensual, the gorgeous blend of butter and garlic and snail with toasted bread... but I ate because it distracted me from considering Niklasʼs words.

"If things don't work out with him, would you come back to me?"

I shook my head but there was a part of me that wanted to cling to Niklasʼs security. "I don't think it would work. I cheated on you. I lied to you."

"And I still love you.
I'm still angry about what happened, but I still love you."

"It's no good, Niklas. Please, don't do this."

"Can I ask you something?"

I nodded. How many times had I started every u
ncomfortable question with those same words?

"When you went to Copenhagen, to that clinic, were you hoping you would meet someone else?"

"No, I just wanted to find a way for us to have a family. And I didn't think I could have that with you any other way."

He nodded slowly. "I should have never been so ad
amant about reversing the vasectomy. Now, I think I would have done it for you. I know I would have done it. I just didn't think you really wanted a baby."

I shook my head. "Don't say it now, Niklas. It's hin
dsight. And now it's too late."

"It being hindsight doesn't mean it's any less true."

"I don't think we should talk about this anymore."

"Is Mads here with you?"

"No, he's at home, in Copenhagen."

"Why didn't he come with you?"

"Neither of us thought it was a good idea. It felt too soon, too raw for him to come here again."

"Ah, yes. That's right, he was here that weekend."

I took another sip of my wine and tried to relax. But I couldn't help bracing myself for a confrontation. Since that night in Copenhagen, Niklas hadn't pressured me for information, for every gory detail of how and when I betrayed him, but I sensed he wanted to know. I think it was only his pride that prevented him from asking, and I didn't want to go through it again. I didn't want to relive that moment of watching him fall apart, watching our fractured life together crumble so easily.

"I have another confession for you." He bowed his head, his sharp features accentuated by the dimmed lighting.  His lips twitched then he smirked and shook his head.

"I don't know if I want to hear it." I stared down into my wine glass. This was too much. I should have said no to meeting him. We didn't need to do this. It would do us no good.

"When we were in New York, I bought an engag
ement ring for you," he said softly. "I had this grand plan that I'd propose to you when we were in the business class lounge at Heathrow. And in my mind, I thought we could get married next summer, or sooner if you wanted. But it never felt like the right time."

That trip to New York seemed so long ago. I sipped my wine and stared at the plate of escargot. Neither of us ate very many of them, and they'd grown cold. And as I stared at those snail shells, I asked myself if I would have still cheated if I'd been engaged. A diamond ring woul
dn't have killed the instant attraction I'd felt for Mads. It might have made me keep my distance for a while but, given a chance to be alone with him, I would have still strayed.

"Are you trying to have a baby with him?" he asked, bridging the awkward moment with another one.

"Not yet. It's too soon." But the irony wasn't lost on me. I'd left the man I was convinced I had to have a baby with immediately to be with the man who could give me a baby... and now I wasn't in such a rush. "But I know I want to have a baby with him. He feels... right."

"Did I ever feel right?"

"Niklas, I did love you. I still love you, too, but it's not the same. And it wouldn't be right for me to pretend I could come back if things don't work out with Mads. You wouldn't be happy, I wouldn't be happy. There'd be no trust between us."

"I forgive you. I know it doesn't change anything, but I forgive you."

The escargot disappeared. Our entrees replaced them.

"Does Mads ever worry you'll cheat on him?"

"I don't know. It's not something we talk about."

"Do you think you ever will?"

"No. I don't know. I hope not. I never thought I would cheat on you... but it happened."

"We never pictured growing old together, did we?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to admit that I'd never been able to imagine a future with us as pensioners, living in some cottage in southern Sweden or in an apartment in Spain like so many other Swedish pensioners.

"We just weren't meant to be one of those couples," I said softly. "I don't know if Mads and I are, either, but I want to explore the possibilities."

Niklas nodded and turned his face away from me. He was still so handsome. I noticed how women in the restaurant cast looks his way. He wouldn't be on the market too long.              

After dinner, Niklas walked me back to my hotel. We embraced, and there was something comforting in being hugged by him. The vibe was distinctly platonic, just as I'd thought it would be. I didn't think we would ever find that spark again.

Niklas kissed me—it was the briefest of kisses—but it aroused nothing in me. I touched his cheek and we said our goodbyes. "By the way, my lawyer sent an email to the clinic, warning them off threatening you or me with a lawsuit. He blind-copied you as well so you can read it later."

"Thank you, Niklas."

"I'll always help you, if I can."

We embraced again, and then I watched him walk away.

This was the end of something.

*      *      *

I was soaking in the tub when Mads called. Hearing his voice filled me with an intense longing. I imagined him in bed naked though he was probably at his workshop finishing the final touches on the kitchen cabinets he was making.

"How did it go?" he asked cautiously. "No arg
uments?"

"It was good. Everything's fine." I assured him. "Niklas was fine. His lawyer is trying to get the clinic off my back."

"That's good," he agreed. "I called a lawyer, too. He says they can't force me to do anything. He says it amounts to blackmail, what they're asking."

"It is blackmail."

"So I think everything is going to be okay." He sounded so relieved. Then tension that had coiled inside him had finally released. "We don't have to worry about Ida trying to cause problems."

"What about Trine?"

"I gave her hell already. So did Adam."

"Good."

"When are you coming home?"

I liked it when he said
"home." "I was going to come back on Sunday, but I think I'll change my ticket and come home tomorrow. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. Come home tomorrow and I'll do a
nything you want."

That sounded like the perfect offer to me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Thanksgiving

A
round the second week of November, I noticed two things: the winter darkness in Copenhagen sometimes weighed even heavier on me than it had in Stockholm, and my period was late. I didn't want to think about either of these situations. Scandinavian winters were notoriously dark, but we'd been lucky so far since the autumn had been mild and uncharacteristically sunny. As for the missed period, I blamed it on stress. I didn't want to consider any other possibility—not yet. It was too soon. Mads and I were still in that precious honeymoon phase every relationship has, when you're so loved-up that everything feels brighter, better, and more gloriously intense. But the more time went by, the more I realized I couldn't simply ignore it.

I'd moved out of the company apartment and into
Mads's place, but it was too impractical for both of us. He hardly had any closet space, so three clothing racks from IKEA were doubling as wardrobes and clothes valets. We both knew we needed more space, but we couldn't really agree on what sort of apartment we wanted. We loved the neighborhood where he lived. It was multicultural enough for me that I felt at home and within walking distance of his workshop. And we both were a little shy of taking that next step—buying property together—when we were still so new to one another.

I almost didn’t want anything to change. The newness of us, this slow process of learning how to be together and how to love one another was so exhilarating. I loved finding out his likes and dislikes. Mads was a map I was learning to read, and with each new road I found som
ething wonderful or mystifying. Sometimes I let myself think about the baby I thought I’d wanted with Niklas and how happy and fulfilled I was now. I didn’t want to jinx this moment.

We weren’t ready for anything else yet.

All we needed was each other.

"
Elskede
, are you okay?" Mads touched my forehead, letting his palm rest there for a few seconds before he pressed his cheek to mine. "You feel warm."

I slid my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and held on to him. My limbs felt too heavy. I was too naus
eous to think straight, but I didn't want Mads to worry. He had a commission to finish, and he'd been putting it off to spend his evenings with me.

"
I'm okay," I told him, and rested against him long enough to let his arms slide around me. "I think I just need to sleep."

"You have a fever. You should drink some water." Mads stepped back and nudged me towards the be
droom. "Go back to bed. I'll take care of you."

I willingly climbed back into our bed. Mads lay down next to me and held me close.

"Close your eyes," he said in a husky whisper.

I didn't want to close my eyes. I wanted to tell him I felt like something was quickening inside me, but it seemed so silly. It had to be the flu. Everyone in my o
ffice was ill. Marius had spent the better part of the week at home. He'd probably given it to me with all his coughing. And that thought, the possibility of being ill and having Mads take care of me and make me feel better, that was enough. I finally closed my eyes and snuggled into him.

But then, one morning, I tried to go for a jog. And it ended before it had even properly began, with me thro
wing up in a wastebasket near Strøget. I almost fainted, but luckily another jogger, a woman who'd been following nearly the same route, came to my rescue. She helped me over to a bench and then ran to a nearby café to get a cup of water for me. I was still shivering and embarrassed that I'd puked in public. At least I'd made it to a wastebasket.

The woman patted my back as I leaned forward and she said in Danish, "This happened to me all the time
during my first trimester. You should bring some crackers with you to keep your stomach settled."

"
I'm not pregnant," I said in English. "It's too soon."

And I had too much to do--it was Thanksgiving, I had to pick up the organic turkey I'd ordered from the butcher in Torvehallerne.
Mads's grandmother and Ingrid, Anton and their daughters were coming over for dinner. I didn't have time to be sick.

"I can't be pregnant
—it's Thanksgiving and I have to make a turkey."

But she didn't pay any attention to what I'd said. "And try not to run so fast. That will just make it happen faster—the puking, I mean."

I tried to tell her again that I wasn't pregnant, but saying it felt so ridiculous. I needed to find out. I couldn't keep pretending that it wasn't a possibility. I was one of those women with an irregular cycle. I could never boast that my menstrual cycle was like clockwork. If it was, it certainly wasn't one with the precision of a Swiss-made clock; it was more like a third-rate clock that sputtered and stopped, then ran too fast, then stopped all together. But one thing was certain: I needed to buy a pregnancy test from the pharmacy, or go to a health clinic and ask them to help me. I managed to stand without feeling like another wave of nausea would hit me.

"Are you going to be okay getting home?" she asked me.

I nodded and thanked her for her help. As I headed back up the street, she called out to me, "It'll ease your mind if you find out now."

I took her advice.

I stopped in the next pharmacy I passed and bought a home pregnancy test.

I couldn't take the test at home; our water was off since our upstairs neighbor was having some plumbing work done, so I walked to Mads's workshop and made a beeline for the bathroom there. It was grungy and in desperate need of a good cleaning session. I never understood how men could ignore grime in their own bathrooms, but would complain about dirty public bathrooms. But right now, I didn't care how filthy the bathroom was—hell, I'd clean it later myself—but right now I needed to find out what was going on with my body. So I followed the instructions, peed on the stick and waited the requisite two minutes. Then the result came—two pink lines in the little display window.

I was pregnant.

I didn't think, I just walked through the workshop to Mads's space, still clutching the test in my hand. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Grayish morning light shone through the dusty window and made his reddish-blond hair glow. I said his name, and held up the test stick.

"Really?" he grinned at me, looking more like a little boy than an incredibly beautiful grown man.

I nodded. "Really."

He put down his cup and came over to me. One mu
scular arm looped around my shoulders while he peered down at the pink plastic stick. "I'm going to be a dad," he mused. "We're going to have a baby. This is amazing—when? How far along are you?"

"I don't know... maybe three months?"  I hadn't had my period in a while. I hadn't even thought about it. I'd told myself it was stress that was making it late, but maybe I'd known all along.

We were both doing mental calculations, trying to think back to how many times we'd forgone condoms. We were careless. Neither of us ever thought about that precaution. I'd stopped taking the pill when I first went to Copenhagen Cryo.

"Are you ready?" I asked him, a little nervous he might panic. I wouldn't blame him if he was—I was a
lready panicking. I'd wanted a baby, wanted to start, but now there was a tiny bit of fear bubbling inside of me. What if I was just as bad at parenting as Karolina had been? What if I turned into one of those awful latte mammas Eddy and I hated so much? I didn't want to be the woman in the café who barreled in with her baby sedan and behaved as though all public spaces were an extension of her living room.

But then Mads smiled at me, and the joy in his eyes and the nervous excitement rolling off him let me know we would be okay. We could do this together, and we'd
be all right. We'd be better than all right. We'd be happy, we'd be fine.

"Eddy's going to freak out when I tell her." I laughed. "We used to joke around about how she was always first doing everything in our family."

"My grandmother is going to be tickled pink when we tell her."

"I don't think my dad will care," I admitted. "He's got his
other family now. We've got your grandmother, we've got my Aunt Cecily. We don't need anyone else."

We kissed, and laughed. Then Mads suggested we go home and let the news really sink in. I should have been at work, he needed to finish those cabinets. But today, neither of us cared about those responsibilities. I sent a text to my team and told them I was sick. Mads called the couple who were waiting for their cabinets and said told them he had a family emergency today, but that he'd deliver the cabinets at the weekend, and he'd even install them for free since he was inconveniencing them. His offer must have sounded good to them, because they readily agreed.

Then we went home to our messy apartment. And we celebrated with lovemaking and an open fire. I imagined having a houseful of babies with Mads. I didn't think about the other children out there—the ones who might look a little like him, the little boys who might have his wild hair, the little girls who might have those same pale eyes that flashed from leaf green to hazel to amber. He'd helped so many couples find their own happiness. I wasn't going to begrudge any of them for being the first to have his child. This time it was our baby, and it would be ours to keep. We  had something, someone, we were thankful for.

We'd tell everyone else soon enough.