Maybe Baby (15 page)

"
How do you two know each other?" I asked as we passed around the serving plates.

"
Mads is helping me make a new table," Anton said. "He's got this wicked workshop... it's amazing what he can do."

"
Anton's doing most of the work." Mads was still watching me over his glass of wine. "I'm just supervising."

"What kind of wood are you using?" This came from Niklas. I could tell from the expression on his face he was impressed by Anton's new hobby. He had an innate r
espect for craftsmen that I'd never quite grasped. At home, he never showed any interest in using his hands to create anything but the moment he was around a stonemason or a carpenter, his degree in psychology was forgotten and he'd wax nostalgic about the time he helped renovate his grandfather's house in southern Sweden.

"Oak. Finest wood there is."

Mads glanced from me to Niklas. I saw the questioning look in his eyes, but I couldn't respond, not when Ingrid was leaning toward me and telling me an anecdote about one of the children she taught. I tried to pay attention but I could barely even eat. Both of them in the same room...

"Is Mads a common name?" Niklas

Mads shrugged. "It is here in Denmark."

"I thought so. You've got to be the...third, fourth pe
rson who's called Mads that Laney's met." Niklas grinned like it was a joke, but I thought I heard an edge to his voice.

"It's a very common name," Ingrid assured Niklas as she refilled her glass. "I must have at least three cousins called Mads."

"How long have you and Laney been together?" Mads directed the question at Niklas. I flashed him a warning look but he ignored it.

"Five happy years," came
Niklas's reply. His cheeks were flushed already from the heat and all the wine we'd had. "We met at this ridiculous American mixer."

Niklas winked at me. He was trying to be jokey, but hearing him recall the mixer as ridiculous—even if I agreed—jarred me. I angled my body away from him and let the distance between us grow. I thought he'd stop there, but he continued. "
I'm not sure what Laney was even doing there, but I saw her and I thought, here's a girl who looks like she knows how to have a good time."

"That's me, the good time girl," I said, my tone da
ngerously close to turning cynical. "You make me sound like a slut, Niklas."

Ingrid saved me. "Now, Niklas, when I asked you that question, you told me you couldn't take your eyes off Laney." She kept her voice light and airy, but there was a steely edge creeping in. "You said she was everything your ex-wife wasn't, and you knew you had to have her in your life."

"I say a lot of things." Niklas grinned. He leaned toward me and rested his hand on the back of my chair. "But it's true. I thought she was someone I had to have in my life."

"And now?"
Mads's jaw tightened. I wanted to switch seats and sit beside him. I wanted to be the girl who could kiss away all that tension. And I hated that I was the one causing it. I didn't want it to be like this.

"Now,
I'm someone who keeps track of things for him," I said lightly. But the words hurt. I didn't want to be anyone's glorified assistant. And when I looked at Niklas, the man I'd fallen in love with wasn't there. The man sitting beside me was a stranger.

"You know you're more than that, Laney." Niklas laughed. He was so loose now. He'd undone his collar and his hair was slightly mussed. I'd lost track of how many times he'd refilled his wine glass.

"I'm not sure about anything anymore," I said, more to myself than anyone else. But Mads heard me.  And the look he gave me—questioning, yet full of something like love—made my breath catch. I bit my lower lip and glanced away.

"Mads, where's your special lady?" Niklas asked. His hand slid along the nape of my neck. His damp fingertips grazed my skin. I brushed them away, but they returned. "You're the odd man out."

"She's occupied tonight." He drained his glass and then set it down. He was still looking at me, his eyes dark and flat. "Maybe next time." Anton refilled it, and wondered if anyone wanted a joint.

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," I said stupi
dly.

"Well, you wouldn't. We only just met, didn't we?"

"Have you met before?" Niklas's fingers tensed on my shoulder. "I thought you hadn't met before?"

"We haven't met," I said tightly. "We just met t
onight."

"Niklas, it's the wine talking." Ingrid laughed. "An
yway, you still haven't told us about New York."

I raised my glass to take a sip, but the wine sloshed over the rim and splattered on the tabletop. I mopped it up quickly with my napkin. While Ingrid distracted
Niklas with reminiscences about New York, Mads's hand was stroking my knee. I tried to start a conversation with him that would be neutral enough that neither of us would feel uncomfortable. But the situation was too weird. Neither of us knew how we should interact; not when Niklas was there, not when we were in the home of two of my closest friends. I tried to remain calm, laughed whenever I knew I should, told stories Anton and Ingrid prompted from our college days.

"Is that how you know Ingrid and Anton, then?" Mads cocked his head to the side. "From college in America?"

"We all lived together," Anton said. "It was a house share with some other students."

"One of the girls... what was her name, Ingrid? Do you remember? The one whose grandmother actually owned the house?" I prompted. Mads was still stroking my knee. It took everything in me not to look up at him and lose myself.

"Chelsea, I think." Ingrid laughed and shook her head. "I remember she was a pain in the ass."

"Laney and her cousin, Eddy, had rooms on the s
econd floor, and Ingrid and I had the attic bedroom." Anton poured more wine in his glass. "We couldn't afford cable TV, so we spent all our evenings hanging out at the local bars or looking for free nights at clubs."

We all laughed as we reminisced about those pauper days in New York, but something felt off. The air was charged with a strange undercurrent, and I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Ingrid, who was usually as la
nguid as Anton, seemed squirrelly and nervous. A few times, I caught her exchanging odd looks with Anton. What was going on here? And Mads was behaving like all of this was a lark. He was asking Niklas so many questions, almost interrogating him. I knew what he was doing—assessing Niklas and trying to figure out what was there between us—but I wished he would stop.

I shivered, though the room was humid and almost too hot. Our now-empty plates stared up at us. The co
nversation had turned again, and now Niklas was telling Mads about our vacation in the United States. Mads was nodding, though occasionally his hazel eyes slid my way. Ingrid touched my arm and asked if I wanted to have a cigarette in the garden. I nodded. I needed a break.

Ingrid led the way into the garden. We went through the kitchen instead of the doors leading out to it from the dining room. "This bit is nicer, more private," she said over her shoulder. I pulled the kitchen door shut behind me, and followed her to a stone bench shrouded by an ivy-covered arch. Tiny, white lights were threaded through it, giving it a lovely, ethereal feel. Once we sat down, Ingrid took out a silver cigarette case and offered me a hand-rolled cigarette. I gladly took it. The tobacco smelled fresh, aromatic and it reminded me of summers in Richmond.

"You should come more often." Ingrid sighed and took a first drag from her cigarette. "I miss our late night chats."

"So do I." I took a drag. The smoke eased down my throat and spread through me, relieving the knots of tension in me. "Sometimes I feel like
I'm living someone else's life, not mine."

"Mmm. I understand. I never thought I was going to be living in the suburbs with three kids. Can you believe it? I have three
teenage daughters."

"You and Anton are lucky, though," I said, letting myself imagine for a moment that this was my life and I was living it with Mads, not Niklas. "You have what I want, this... easiness, this certainty you belong together."

"You make us sound so much more romantic than we really are." Ingrid kissed my cheek. "Sometimes, I still wish we were living like paupers in Vesterbrø." Ingrid shook her head and smiled wistfully.

"Really?" Their old apartment. It was cold, cramped. But there was so much love there. I wanted that. I wan
ted some of what they had.

"Sometimes. I miss the freedom. I miss not having to worry all the time about whether the girls are okay, or trying to decide if I should treat myself to something I want, or put the money in our renovation fund so we can fix the roof."

"Is everything okay with you and Anton?" I asked cautiously. Were they going through a similar rough patch as Niklas and me? They weren't as affectionate with one another as they usually were. Normally, Anton found any excuse to touch or kiss Ingrid, but there was a definite chill between them.

Ingrid, though, shrugged. "I think it's simply a case of being too used to one another. We've been together so long."

"But... it's nothing serious, is it? You're not getting a divorce or anything like that, are you?"

"God, no. I promise, it's not as catastrophic as all that, Laney. We just need to have some alone time, like we used to. I've already booked a trip to the coast for next weekend." She squeezed my hand. "But I think it is with you and Niklas... unless I am reading the vibes wrong."

I didn't say anything. I took another long drag from my cigarette and exhaled slowly.

"I saw how you and Mads were looking at each other... and I saw how you reacted when he arrived."

Still, I said nothing. I didn't know how to tell her, despite how long we'd known one another. From the other side of the garden, the men's voices drifted to us along with the resinous scent of marijuana smoke. Niklas usually refused to smoke pot. Would he do it now since both Anton and Mads were doing it? His little rebellion?

"Laney, what's going on?" Ingrid said in a lower voice. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Mads and I know each other."

"Why didn't you say so? You didn't have to pretend you were strangers."

"Yes, we did. We do."

"But why? I still don't get the need for subterfuge, darling." Ingrid tossed her red hair over her shoulder and fixed me with a questioning look.

"Because I'm fucking him behind Niklas's back." I said softly, but firmly. I didn't meet Ingrid's imploring eyes.

Ingrid gasped. "Did I misunderstand you? You used to always say you weren't the cheating type."

"I didn't think I was, either." I shook my head. "And then I met Mads when I was here for work a few weeks ago."             

"He's working with you?" Ingrid asked. "Anton said he was a carpenter."

"No, he's not working with me." I bit my lower lip. "I told Niklas I wanted to have a baby, and then he suddenly announced he'd had a vasectomy before he met me..."

"I still don't understand how Mads fits into this, ho
ney."

"I went to a sperm bank."

"Wait, wait... did you go to Copenhagen Cryo? Is that where you know Mads from?"

I nodded. "I met him at the mingle."

"I thought it was all done artificially."

"It is, Ingrid. But I haven't signed anything yet. B
ecause I met Mads and it just... it just happened. I want to be with him, I don't want anything else. Just him." It came out almost too quickly, the words tumbling from my mouth so inarticulately. I took another drag from my cigarette and wished for a moment it was marijuana instead of tobacco. At least it would have uncoiled the tension and made me relax more. "I came here this weekend... I lied to Niklas and told him it was for work, but I came here to see Mads, and then Niklas decided he was coming down to meet me. I'm in such a fucking muddle, Ingrid. I don't even know if I still love him. I think he’s still fucking Karolina. I barely know Mads, but I want to be with him all the time."

"I knew something was bothering you." Ingrid took my hand and squeezed it. "I wasn't expecting this, but I knew there was something."

"I don't know what to do." My chest tightened. I took a longer drag from my cigarette and exhaled slowly, hoping it would relax me. I watched the smoke curl skywards. "He's always in my thoughts. He's like a drug for me."

"Does Niklas suspect anything?"

I nodded and then I told her about his finding my phone and then what he'd said this morning. "Is he telling me I'm allowed to do this as long as I don't let him see it?"

Ingrid was quiet for a moment. She squashed out her cigarette butt on the flagstone and then she put her arm around my shoulders. "What do you want, Laney?"

"I want to be happy."

"Are you happy? Right now, I mean, with Niklas?"

I shook my head. "Not for a while. It almost felt normal between us when we went to the States, but as soon as we were back in Stockholm it all went wrong again."

"So explore this thing with Mads. He gave you pe
rmission as long as you don't flaunt it in his face."