Maybe Baby (11 page)

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Sharing Someone Else's Pillow

G
oing to Copenhagen again, even with the return of this weird mood between Niklas and me, filled me with a secret thrill. I shouldn't have been so gleeful at the prospect of having to keep track of more lies to cover the lies I'd already told Niklas, but I was. It got me through the rest of the week. It got me through the dinner with Jesper, who'd been sullen and not exactly friendly now that Niklas had actually taken my advice and was making his son and daughter pay the cost of the cleaning service. After a few half-hearted protests, Jeppe gave in to Niklas's calm delivery of the punishment. And Niklas's firm stance impressed me. I was so accustomed to his giving in to his children's protests whenever they did anything wrong, that I'd stopped believing he could ever be strong in the role of the disciplinarian. But I stayed out of the discussion and just listened and observed as Niklas laid down the law.

At the end of the evening, Jesper was contrite, and apologized, but his reddened face and thin frown r
evealed his anger at being caught out, at being forced to take responsibility for breaking the rules. Before he went to bed, Jesper asked me why his dad was being so hard on him. His anger had subsided enough that he looked more like a lost little boy than an arrogant teenager. I touched his shoulder and said, "Honey, he didn't like what he found when he came home."

But Jesper still seemed confused.

I tried to put all of this out of my head as I boarded the flight to Denmark. In my suitcase was the wanton dress, just waiting to be worn for Mads. I would check into the hotel, then I would call him at the workshop he shared with three other furniture makers. I wondered how long it would take before we would end up in bed again. My body was already responding to the idea of being naked with him again. A slow heat crept up my neck and along my arms. Would he kiss me? Would he still meet me at the airport?

I settled into my window seat and told myself this could be a new beginning. I could fall in love with som
eone else. I didn’t need to settle for being an afterthought for Niklas. And that thought alone was enough to calm me.

When the plane finally landed in Copenhagen an hour later, and Mads was waiting for me in the arrivals hall, holding a sign that said
"
Elskede
Laney"—Beloved Laney—any doubts eating away at me receded.

I felt like I’d come home.

"I need to make a quick stop. It won't take too long. After that, I'm all yours for the weekend."

We were driving away from Copenhagen, taking a curving northbound road that wove its way through pretty suburbs with clapboard and brick houses and fields of green. I was too enchanted to ask him where we were going. Sitting in the passenger seat, letting him take me where he wanted...

A huge paper-wrapped package took up most of the backseat. "Is that for me?" I joked. I let my hand stray to Mads's right thigh, savoring its firmness.

"
No, not this time," he said, grinning. "They're for my grandmother. It's her birthday."

"
Are you going to see her later?" I was anxious to touch him, to feel his hands on me again.

"
We're going there now. Is that okay?"

I nodded, even though I'd envisioned us in bed t
ogether, picking up where we'd left off. But maybe this was a good thing. He was forcing us to go a little slower, even if it was unintentional. I was still reeling from our first meeting. Sometimes when I thought about him, my body reacted as though he were already near me. Twice I'd almost called Niklas by Mads's name, and caught myself just as it was slipping off my tongue.

"
Why do you do it?"

"
Do what?"

"
Donate sperm."

"
I was wondering when you'd finally ask me." He sounded grim, almost defensive. But he kept his eyes on the road and gripped the steering wheel tightly. I reached out my hand and stroked his denim-covered leg. His thigh muscle was taut under my palm.

"
I'm not judging you, Mads. I'm just curious."

He nodded slowly. I saw how his jaw tightened. I di
dn't want to make him feel nervous or uncomfortable, so I turned on the radio and fidgeted and gave him some time to think. After a while he said, "I needed the money so I could have my workshop. And Ida convinced me it was an easy way to get enough money to set up my business."

"
Does your family know?"

He didn't answer, not at first.

"Mads? I promise you, I'm not judging you. I'm just curious. That's all."

"
My grandmother knows." He glanced at me, a nervous smile on his lips. "I haven’t mentioned it to my cousins or my aunts and uncles. Didn’t really see the point."

"
Do your friends know?"

"
Some of them. It’s not really something I talk about with them. It’s too… private."

I tried to imagine how it felt for him, going to the mingles, knowing that one of these women would carry his child. I wanted to ask him If he ever thought about
the kids… but all of this felt too new to dig very deep. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. I loved his profile, the ridges in his nose that betrayed it had once been broken, the sharpness of his cheekbones. 

"
I can never judge you for what you did," I said softly. "I went to that clinic hoping I would find someone who could help me… and I found you."

He grinned.
"We found each other before that. When I saw you through the window of that café and you looked straight at me."

"
And the rest was history."

"
It’ll be a good story we can tell someday." And then he kissed me quickly, and inside I soared.

"
Who is this?" Though her eyes were milky with cataracts, Alma Rasmussen peered at me and reached out a hand and touched my cheek. "Mads, have you finally fallen in love?"

Mads—my strong, beautiful, Mads—blushed. He grinned at his grandmother and said in Danish,
"If I could, I would keep her with me all the time." He didn't look up at me, but the shy, boyish smile spreading across his lips told me everything I needed to know.

His grandmother chuckled.
"Well, this pleases me. I have worried about you, alone since you returned from Sweden."

She had a musical voice. Even with the unfamiliar c
adences of Danish, Alma Rasmussen projected an openness that pulled me in. I wanted to hold her hand, sit close to her, and listen to any advice she'd give me. Her love for her grandson shined bright, filling the room with a warmth I'd rarely experienced with my own family. As I sat there, sipping the glass of strawberry-rhubarb cordial she'd served, I listened as she quizzed Mads about the goings-on in Copenhagen, and his family. And I was envious. This was what I'd missed when I'd been shuffled from one relative to another, until Eddy took me under her wing when we were in college.

"
Hvordan er det at du mødte min søde barnebarn?"

My mind went blank. On the drive up, Mads had filled me in on how he'd spent so much of his childhood in this house with his grandparents when his parents divorced, but we'd never touched on how either of us would a
nswer that question if it came up.

She noted my confusion and said in English,
"How did you meet my sweet grandson?"

"
Farmor
, I told you, we met at a party." Mads leaned forward and refilled his grandmother's glass of cordial. "It was a few weeks ago."

"
Mads, you let the girl speak for herself." His grandmother let out another tinkling laugh. I glanced at Mads. She knew he was a sperm donor, but I was pretty certain telling her we'd met at the mingle wasn't a good idea. His knee brushed mine as he leaned forward. I wanted to nestle closer to him. There was something about his calmness that told me we could be good together.

But I needed to answer his grandmother. So before he could answer for me, I said in careful Swedish,
"It's like Mads said... we met at a party. I thought he was the handsomest man there."

Apparently, this was the right answer. Alma's smile widened and her face lit with joy.
"He is a handsome boy, isn't he? Even with his broken nose."

"
It's been like this for twenty years." Mads grinned at her and tapped the uneven ridge of his nose. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to accept my pugilist badge of honor."

"
Oh, I have, my dear." She laughed softly. "And it just makes you handsomer."

I nodded and added.
"We spent the whole evening talking and... we just clicked."

"
That pleases me. He's been single too long." She spoke English now, her words carefully enunciated. She patted Mads's cheek again.

"
Farmor
, it hasn't been so long." His cheeks bloomed red and it made me smile. I'd never seen him blush before, but it softened the rugged angles of his face, melting away a little of his roughness so I could see the shy boy he'd once been.

"
If anyone knows how long you've been alone, it's me. I don't understand how that silly Swedish girl ever divorced you in the first place. I worry about him. I want to see him married and happy."

It was the perfect milieu. The three of us sitting in her cozy living room with the French doors open to her garden. All of my impatience to get to the hotel, to be alone with Mads, dissipated as we chatted with his
grandmother and she regaled me with stories from his childhood. How different it was from mine. How different this was from when I'd first met Niklas's family. We'd had a tense dinner at Restaurang Gondolen with his taciturn father, who barely spoke other than to ask pointed questions that were either unanswerable or hid an agenda to belittle or embarrass. I thought back to when Niklas first met my aunt Cecily, during our first summer in New York, and how she'd disapproved of him instantly.

"
He's too old and too smooth for you," she'd said, despite there only being a seven-year age difference between us. "Too smooth, too rich. This won't last."

But sitting here with Mads, I could almost imagine my deceased mother's reaction. She would have liked him. She would have appreciated his love for his gran
dmother. God, this is what I'd missed for so long in my life. I wanted a family. I wanted grandparents I could spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with. I didn't have anyone left. My grandparents had died before I was born, and both of my parents were gone by the time I was fifteen—my dad was with his new wife, my mom dead after losing her battle with breast cancer. The only points of certainty in my life were Eddy and Niklas and his kids. Then something vibrated against my leg. Mads had settled back now and was telling his grandmother about a new commission he'd received. He paused and glanced at me. "Is that your phone, Laney?"

"
Sorry?" Then the vibrating and humming got louder. "Oh! Sorry... I'll just... take this."

I stood, a little too abruptly, and excused myself. I opened the French doors and stepped out into the ove
rgrown garden, glad for the breeze and this moment alone. I could smell the salty sea air even without needing to see the narrow Øresund Strait separating southern Sweden from the northern tip of Denmark.

Niklas's
avatar filled my display screen. I walked further out into the garden and then clicked on the answer button.

"
I can't really talk right now," I said in a hurried whisper. "We're in the middle of a meeting."

"
This won't take long. I just wanted to be certain you'd remembered Siri's birthday."

"
You left me a note."

"
Well, I thought since you're already in Copenhagen, you could pick up a present while you're there."

"
I'm working, Niklas. I'm not here shopping."

"I doubt you're working every single second you're there."

"I'm actually quite busy." I tried to keep my voice low, but I could hear my anger crackling through. "I've got to get back to my meeting so just spit out what you want."

"I'm going to ignore your tone. You don't need to be so sharp with me."

"
Niklas, I don't really have time for this. What do you want me to pick up for her?"

"
Laney?" I swung around quickly. Mads was in the doorway, worry blurring his face.

"
Sorry, I'm coming." Then I hissed at Niklas. "I have to go. They need me again."

"
Fine. Just pick up a Lulu satchel from Piet Breinhom's shop on Nansensgadde."

I wanted to protest, but he added,
"It shouldn't be out of your way since your hotel is near there."

Then he rang off before I could even think of a way to say no. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and stalked towards the house. Mads was still waiting for me in the doorway. As soon as I was close enough, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me, setting off a stampede of butterflies through me.