Maybe Baby (8 page)

"Did you sign any paperwork?"

"No! I went there to meet with a client services sp
ecialist, and she told me about how they do things there. And she gave me some sample files so I could see what information they have on the donors." I reached out to touch his arm, but he was so tense. I wanted to assure him that we were okay, but I was afraid he'd sense my betrayal. "I just wanted to know what options I had. I found out about this sperm bank and since I was already in Copenhagen, I thought I ought to take a chance and go there, find out how they might be able to help me... us... if we decided to try that way."

Niklas didn't say anything for a long time. He shook his head and then let out a long sigh. "Sometimes I don't understand you at all, Laney."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you didn't sign any paperwork or any contract, then why do you have those files?"

"Ida—the client services specialist—gave them to me. She said she wanted me to go through the sort of information prospective recipients receive so I could feel comfortable with any decision I made. She said it was standard."

"Why couldn't you tell me this before you went to Copenhagen?"

"I thought you would get angry. And I was right. You are angry."

"
I'm angry because you tried to hide this from me."

"If I'd told you about it, would you have been okay with me going to the sperm bank?"

"I don't know, Laney. You never even gave me a chance to figure out how I'd feel."

"Would you be okay with me doing this? Using a sperm donor?"

"I don't know. I need to think about this."

But I had the feeling he would say no. Because we hadn't discussed this "properly," because he really didn't want to go through this. And I knew that instinctively, before I even went to Copenhagen, and it made me want to walk out the door. But I stayed. I didn't move from my spot on the sofa. I just sat there, letting the silence grow
between us and wondering where we went from here. Niklas left the sofa and went in the kitchen area. Sometimes he needed distance from me to think. He was a therapist by trade, but he didn't often use the tools he gave his patients. Sometimes, he used them on me or the kids, but—and this was something the three of us had in common—we all hated it. If he tried it now, I would go along with it. I was the one at fault, the one keeping secrets. Not him. He pulled out a box wine his sister had left in the fridge from her last visit, and filled a glass for himself.

"
I'm going to cook. It'll clear my head."

"Do you want me to help?" I asked. I felt like I needed to do something. I couldn’t just sit there. I didn’t trust myself to be alone.

"Just... no. Go for a walk, leave me alone for a while. I need to think."

"
We should still talk about this, Niklas."

"
I said I need to think, Laney." He slammed his hand on the countertop. He shook his head slowly. "Just give me a little space. I'll take care of the fish and everything."

"All right." On the coffee table, the files stared up at me accusatively. I swallowed hard.

The file on top was Mads's.

The mood lightened somewhat after dinner. We sat outside on the terrace and let the sea breeze carry away some of the tension. Niklas became more like his old self, relaxed and easygoing. I didn't like the neurotic part of
him that came out whenever we came here. It made me hate his sister, and Ylva was actually a pleasant person to be around. She was just one of those women who couldn't sit still and who needed to have something to do constantly. Finding order seemed to be her cup of tea. She wanted everything nice and neat, but she never considered that her system of organization only worked for her. Yes, I could blame Niklasʼs mood on Ylva. It was easier than admitting I'd played the biggest role in it. Niklas was more relaxed now that he was in the loop. He'd even taken the step to discuss our options in a way that at least felt proactive. But now I was reticent. As I listened to him, a small part of me became cynical and almost snarky. That part of me—the part that Niklas didn't appreciate very much—questioned why he was so willing to discuss our future family. Why couldn't he have been so open about it a few weeks ago? Why now?

You wouldn't have slept with Mads if Niklas had been open with you from the start, the cynical me whispered in my ear. You wouldn't have even bothered to look up that clinic if he'd been willing to discuss this with you from the start.

I watched him from across the table and slowly sipped my glass of chardonnay. The sun was already beginning to set, and the sky over the Bay of Hanö was soft shade of rose. Soon, the sky would go velvety dark and fill with stars. But for now, striations of clouds mixed and stretched across the evening sky.  Something snapped between us. Niklas seemed so self-satisfied. He behaved as though going to a sperm donor was his idea all along, and that I'd simply hastened things along. He patted my arm in a manner that felt almost brotherly. I sensed no sexual attraction or desire. Not from him. Not from me. I didn't want to sleep with him. I imagined lying in bed beside him, the bed rocking as he tossed and turned. And the only thought in my head was to book a ticket to Copenhagen as soon as possible. Explore the possibilities with Mads, and then figure it out later.

It was so wrong. I shouldn't have been thinking about another man. But I couldn't stop myself, and Niklas wa
sn't doing anything to make me feel like I should want to be loyal to him.

*      *      *

That night, I tried to make love to Niklas, without thinking about Mads. Whenever my mind wandered, I focused only on Niklas and tightening my arms around him or breathing in the warm scent of him. I kept my eyes open so I saw only him, his dark hair now mussed up as he braced his arms on either side of my head... as his cock rubbed inside me, hitting just the right spots to elicit a surprised moan. I didn't think of Mads when Niklas flipped me over and took me from behind. I didn't think about him when I came. I didn't think about Mads until after my body slowly returned to normal, no longer attuned to Niklasʼs every move, every breath... when the catch of his breath was no longer in my ear, and his hands no longer taking possession of me, my thoughts became restless and my body, though satisfied, longed for the touch of another pair of hands.

I lay beside Niklas, listening to his breathing even out as he fell into dreams. Our bodies were still entwined, but our minds no longer connected. The air in the room was heavy and damp. I tried to inch away, but I was caught.

He murmured in a sleep-heavy voice, "I love you, baby."

"Love you, too," I whispered back.

But the emotions behind the words rang hollow. Oh, babe... what happened to us? When did the love we shared dissipate?

I wanted to go back in time. Back to that night when Niklas and I first met, in the bar at the Hilton Hotel in
Södermalm. That night, when he first hooked me and I lost my desire to be footloose, to be free to fuck whomever I wanted when I wanted.

I wished I could return to that moment and figure out just what spell he'd cast over me and recast it, so I could love him more. Because I was scared.

Were we just idling until our relationship died a slow, uneventful death, or would it implode with a ferocity that would leave us both scarred? What would happen to us?

I couldn't sleep that night. Even with
Niklasʼs body curled around mine, I found no solace. I'd set this in motion and now it was spiraling out of my control.

CHAPTER
SIX

Lost Weekend

o you want to go to
Kivik?" Niklas asked as we cleaned up after breakfast. It was another impossibly sunny day, still warm though it was mid-September. I'd already walked along the beach while Niklas slept in, but I was restless. I wanted to get away from the house. I wanted to get away from him.

"
No, but you go ahead." I stretched and sidestepped him as he absently reached out for me. "I was thinking of riding my bike for a while."

"
I could wait for you."

"
I don't want to go to Kivik. You go. It's okay."

When he left, I breathed a sigh of relief. What the hell was I doing? I'd wanted this weekend away with him. Now I couldn't wait to be away from him. Instead of
leaving the house, I lay down on our bed and closed my eyes, letting myself think of Mads without having to consider Niklas and his proximity. I tried to imagine what sort of future there was for us. Did I really want more with him than an affair? Was that what I was having? In Copenhagen, it had all been so crystal clear. At least in the confines of my hotel room.

I reached under my pillow for my phone and checked for messages. There were none, other than two text me
ssages from Eddy. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Mads's number. I knew I was taking a stupid risk, calling him when I was so uncertain of everything. But I wanted to hear his voice, even if it would do no more than give me a false sense of security. I pressed call and waited as his phone rang. It took five rings before he answered, sounding out of breath and a little irritated.

"
It's me."

There was a long pause, long enough that I was afraid he'd hang up on me. But then he said,
"I was hoping you would call. I wasn't sure it was a good idea for me to call you."

"
It's better if I call you." I tried to imagine where he was. Music was playing, just loud enough that I could hear it was the Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter," loud enough to blanket any other sounds.

"
Are you still at the summer house?"

"
Until Monday, then we drive back to Stockholm."

"
Is everything okay?"

"
I don't know. No. I think... I think I might leave Niklas. I don't know. I don't know what I want."

"
Laney, slow down. What do you mean?"

"
I still love him, but I don't love him enough." I took a deep breath to calm myself. My pulse was racing so hard I felt a little lightheaded. "Or... I don't know if I love him enough. And I can't stop thinking about you. I just... I need to see you."

"
So come here. Come when you can." His voice set off a thousand sparks along my spine, hitting me in just the right places to weaken me.

"
I think I can come on Friday. I can only come for the weekend."

"
It's better than nothing."

"
I'll have to visit some friends while I'm there."

"
Okay... just give me whatever time you can."

"
Does this, what we're doing, feel wrong?"

"
No. Because it feels like it was always supposed to be me and you."

His words set free a wave of relief inside me. I felt the same, even if it scared me.
"I don't know what to do, Mads."

"
You don't have to feel guilty, Laney," he said softly. "It was like we were meant to meet each other. Otherwise, why would we have seen each other before you even went to the clinic?"

"
Maybe it was just a happy coincidence."

"
Maybe it was. But I know I felt so connected to you. And I know you felt the same."

"
I keep asking myself what's going to happen with us."

"
We don't know if we don't try."

"
I don't know if I can just leave Niklas."

"
I'm not asking you to. Just come see me."

His request seemed so simple. Just come see him. It was easy enough to go to Copenhagen. Just an hour's flight. I could slip away the same day, come back in the evening. Come back the next morning and claim a mee
ting ran over. "Okay... I'll come. I'll come on Friday."

"Good. Tell me when you've booked everything, and when you're going to land. I'll meet you at the airport.
"

"
I know I'm going to feel even guiltier, but I can't pretend there's nothing between us."

"
No one's asking you to do that, Laney."

"
Niklas—"

"
He's had five years with you, and you aren't happy. How many more years are you supposed to give him?"

His question hung in the air, unanswered, unanswe
rable. I had no way of denying Mads's words. The truth was, I wasn't happy. Maybe I hadn't been happy longer than I'd realized, and just blinded myself to it because it was easier than admitting I was drowning. I thought about those early days, when Niklas's children weren't so involved in our relationship—when Karolina didn't want them anywhere near me. That was when they were still young enough that their dislike of me never seemed to touch me. And Niklas didn't feel the need to push me to like his children. He didn't even behave like I had anything to do with them in the beginning. Maybe he thought I was transitory. Maybe I was never intended to be around this long.

Maybe it was time for me to do something different.

Niklas returned from
Kivik with bags of heritage apples, bottles of apple wine and apple cider, and jars of apple cinnamon jelly. I was perched on a bar stool by the kitchen island, watching as he unpacked each bag. Apparently, we were going to overdose on all things apple.

"
How was your bike ride?" He came over and kissed the top of my head. I wanted the gesture to feel more romantic, but there were no sparks. "How far did you make it?"

"
I ended up taking a nap." I smiled up at him, but I couldn't summon any passion or desire.

How long had we been like this? He kissed my cheek and I caught the familiar warmth of his natural scent. Normally, I wanted to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and kiss him there. But now, I held him without craving him, without my fingers automatically raking through his hair or unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled me out of the chair and folded me into his arms. We kissed again, our lips tentative and without their usual certai
nty. I wasn't sure which of us began moving to the sofa, but somehow we ended up there, falling backwards so I was on top of him. My T-shirt was pushed up, Niklas was claiming me again, with his hands on my skin, with his mouth...

Later, when we were both naked, I was straddling him, riding him and trying to disconnect for a little while from Mads, from the longing for him. Niklas tried to pull me in for a kiss, but I planted my hands on his chest, pressing him down so I could maintain control. I needed to do this, to remain the one on top. He was close to coming, but I was struggling, trying to bring myself to the edge of an orgasm with no success. Then Niklas managed to flip me on my back. He slid down between my legs and kissed my inner thighs. His kisses tickled, and then tempted me. Finally, I began to respond. My muscles loosened as his lips brushed my clit. He sucked and nibbled there, grazed his tongue along its tender nub until I moaned and gripped his hair.

He stroked and fucked me until, finally, my orgasm erupted in waves. First gentle, then undulating into something wilder and untamed. I was panting by the end, and my body was spent. My forearm covered my eyes, shielding me from Niklas and his perceptive gaze. He nuzzled my breasts, kissed a line from my nipples to my shoulders and whispered my name. I couldn't look at him. My God, what was wrong with me? Why couldn't I love him? Or did I love him, and have only a fleeting attraction for Mads?

"
What's wrong?" He touched my cheek. "Baby, why are you crying?"

I shook my head, tried to turn my face away but he wouldn't let me. He gently turned my face back to his.
"Laney, babe. I know we're going through a tricky patch, but we'll get through this. I love you, babe. We'll get through this."

I let him kiss me again and, after a while, I kissed him back, feeling drained, wanting to be held and consoled, knowing I didn't deserve it. But his reassurances, his calming voice and gentle touch, relaxed me. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was just a rough patch, a prem
ature seven-year itch. Maybe all of this with Mads was a silly aberration.

*      *      *

The rest of our long weekend passed without any unexpected phone calls or interruptions. The kids didn't ring, Karolina didn't text with ridiculous demands. Even Eddy left me alone. There were no messages from Mads either and, in a way, I was glad. I needed to feel connected with Niklas again, and I couldn't do that if I was constantly wondering if every beep or buzz was another text message from Mads.

By the time we drove back to Stockholm, the air b
etween us was almost normal again. He was more affectionate, and so was I. My desire to touch him, to rake my fingers through his hair, to be near him had returned, though not with the same force. By nightfall, we were back in Stockholm, back in our apartment, and greeted by the stench of spilled alcohol and sweat and stale cigarette smoke. I opened windows and tried to air out the apartment.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Siri and Jesper had invited their friends over while we were
away. We didn't mind when they had friends over—but we did have two rules that Niklas and I insisted on, no matter what: no parties without our prior consent and any detritus or damage from said party is the full responsibility of the hosts. Siri and Jesper were well aware of these rules. Yet they'd chosen to ignore them, again.

"
I'll have to talk to them about this again," Niklas said resignedly. He opened the balcony doors and a cool breeze slithered in. The sour cloud of spilled alcohol and vomit still hung ominously, and a part of me wished I could escape it.

"
It won't matter," I told him as I picked up a saucer that had been used as an ashtray. "They'll just apologize, and then do it again next time we're away."

Niklas flinched, as if my words stung him. I didn't press the issue. His children were always a touchy su
bject for us. He didn't like to believe there was any malice in them. He wrote it all down to teenage thoughtlessness. This was probably the case with Jesper, but with Siri I was more inclined to believe it was a misguided sense of entitlement. I'd said so before, and been met with stony silence or a therapist-style questioning about my own teenage years, as if that would magically explain my anger at her behavior. No, there was no point pressing here. Niklas would side with them. He always did.

We worked together, cleaning up the apartment and ridding it of lipstick-stained glasses and cigarette-butt-filled beer cans. Smelly beer stains marred the upho
lstery on two of our couches. We found a used condom under our guest bed, so we stripped the bed linens after we'd disposed of it. The guest bathroom reeked of vomit and urine. I grimaced.  This was my limit. I closed the door and left it as it was. Niklas could clean it up. I'd done enough. When I was a teenager, I never dared have a party in my parents' house while they were away. My father was too strict, and their neighbors were too present, too willing to rat me out. Any illicit partying was done at the homes of my friends, who lived in other neighborhoods, but we never dared to do so as often as Siri and Jesper did. We knew there were always consequences. Punishment or, if your parents were old school enough, an ass whipping that hurt enough to instill a fear of not toeing the line. For Siri and Jesper, the only consequence would be a lukewarm lecture from Niklas and radio silence from Karolina.

"
I'm sorry, Laney." Niklas came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders.

"
Sorry for what?"

"
Sorry I've never really supported you when it comes to them."

"
I think it comes with the territory," I said as I turned to face him. "People always defend their kids in situations like ours."

"
But they're not always right, and I know this. I should have been better at sticking up for you when you needed me to do so."

"
It's okay." I kissed his cheek. At least he was finally saying it. "Roseanne Barr used to say that all kids are thieves and liars. At least your kids aren't thieves." I winked at him and we both laughed.

The apartment was clean now, but the sour funk of old cigarette butts and spilled beer still hung in the air. Niklas wrinkled his nose.
"Maybe I'll call the cleaning service tomorrow."

We changed the sheets on our bed, just to be safe.

It took a long time to fall asleep when we finally went to bed. All of my confusion came to the surface again. I lay beside Niklas, holding his hand and trying to absorb his calm. He'd fallen asleep easily. But I lay there, listening to someone in a neighboring courtyard singing out of tune, the faint whirr of night buses, and soft voices as neighbors returned from nearby bars and restaurants. I moved closer to Niklas. He pulled my arm around him as he turned onto his side. Maybe we were okay. Niklas was a good man, and I knew this. It was one of the reasons I fell deeper in love with him after that first encounter. It was one of the reasons I decided to stay here in Sweden, instead of moving on when I'd had the chance. Niklas used to tell me that we were like those half circles in Aristophanes’ theory of soul mates, constantly searching for our other halves, and then we found one another in that bar on a Third Thursday. Just then, I wanted him to be right. I didn't want to think that I could fall out of love with him and not even notice it. I wanted to feel that brightly burning certainty again. I didn't want to be without him.