Maybe Forever (Maybe... Book 3) (3 page)

I nodded again. I would take this. I knew this would have to do until he could finally take some time off from work.

We sat like this, with him still holding my hands but not looking at me. And me...I just nodded and then said, "Don't forget to go in to Liv..."

Mads murmured "okay" and then let go of my hands. He kissed the top of my head, then left me on the sofa. I heard him as he spoke to Liv; my heart swelled as I listened to the loving tone he used with her. I cleaned up the kitchen, then turned off the lights. I waited in the bedroom for him to come and lay down beside me. But finally I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I didn't hear him creep in and turn off the bedside lamp. I didn't feel his weight in bed beside me.

When I woke the next morning, he'd already gone to the workshop.

CHAPTER TWO: Mads

Make It Up to Her

She
was right.

Of course she was. Sometimes I told myself I couldn't expect Laney to carry the burden on her own. Other times I took for granted how strong she seemed. I'd seen how she handled Liv and Freya—even on the worst of days she was capable of doing it all without me. And maybe that was the worst of it. I knew she'd be fine without me.

All of this was coursing through my mind as I crossed the bridge to the city. A wispy layer of clouds blurred the sky. Though it was still early, heat rose from the pavement and through the soles of my shoes. It looked to be another one of those sticky summer days that Laney always called "dog days.” I was already sweating even though I tried not to walk too fast. The first week of July...just a week until my wedding anniversary and Laney and I were fighting. My wife...even at our low points I was still so happy I could call her that, that she'd chosen me...my wife... even if, right now, she wasn't very pleased with me. I would have to figure out a way to make it up to her. I needed to unravel whatever was going on inside of her. I missed my wife who would reach for my hand and lace her fingers with mine over dinner. I missed how she'd lower her eyes...those coppery-brown eyes of hers that sometimes mystified me...and slowly, slowly lick her lips and curve them into a smile that promised so many things. I missed how she'd call me into the bedroom and I'd find her naked and waiting, tempting me to be late for meeting Anton and Adam for a beer or going to the gym. And she always won out...I could never resist her pull on me.

I loved Laney. It was that simple. I needed to tell her that. I left without even touching her or kissing her. I never did that... I stopped in my tracks. I was halfway across the bridge. I could go back. I could tell her I was sorry about last night. I’d fallen asleep while reading to Liv. We barely made it through
Hvad Betyder Ræven?
When I woke, it was already six in the morning and the sunlight streaming in the window made the room feel like an oven, even with the ceiling fan whirring above us. But Liv still slept peacefully, her thumb planted firmly in her mouth. And Freya...my littlest angel...was cooing in her sleep. I'd stood over her, watching the slow, even breaths she took as her chubby fingers twitched. Whatever Laney and I were going through, we would figure it out. We had to. I didn't want to lose my family. I didn't want to lose my wife. I didn't want to lose her.

I turned around and started heading back to our building. I still had enough time to go back and make things right and get to the workshop in time for the design meeting Anton had scheduled. He'd quit teaching last year and joined us after three years of hanging around and helping us build a fair share of cabinets and shelving units. And though he wasn't always a deft hand at carpentry, he made up for it with his expertise at organization. He ran the office, he made sure invoices were paid on time, and he was often the first point of contact. I was back on Sortedam Dossering when my phone vibrated. I pulled it out of the back pocket of my jeans. It was a text from my cousin Henrik, reminding me we needed to check in on
farmor
. Then another text came, this one from Anton—our first client was early. Shit... I was only two blocks from the apartment. I wanted to sprint home, even if I only got five minutes with Laney. But there wasn't time.

I'd make it up to her later.

I wasn't sure which of the guys had recommended Benny to us, but she was a distraction. Every year we took in a couple of interns from
Designskole
to help them get practical experience and lighten the load for us. This year we had three—Willem, Ibrahim and Benedikte, or Benny, as she kept telling us to call her. She looked more like a pinup from the 1950s than a furniture designer. She showed up every day in overalls that only enhanced her assets and deep red lipstick that made her full lips even more obvious. Looking at her was like seeing her naked. And her direct stare—she always stared and her lips curled into this cheeky smile that challenged you. No, she was trouble. She was good at what she did. There was no question about that, but she was one of those women who knew how to push buttons, how to make you feel unsettled. Jonas had already confessed to me over beers that he had his eye on her. He was newly single and on the look-out for someone who'd fill the void in his life left by his ex-wife.

I ducked my head at her as I came into the workshop. She was staining a dining table Jonas had designed. Her fingertips were bruised a reddish brown that reminded me of blood. "
Hej
, Mads," she called out to me. I said a quick hello; I didn't want to linger. The summer heat hadn't permeated the thick stone walls yet, but soon we'd have to open the windows.

Anton was already in the office we'd set up at the back of the workshop. Before, it was my storage area, but with the demand growing for our furniture designs, Jonas and I decided we needed to get more organized. Laney helped us initially, but then Anton joined us and took on the task of setting order to our daily lives.

"I made you some coffee," he said without looking away from the computer screen. He gestured towards the coffeemaker. "And don't forget to book the restaurant."

"How do you know about that?"

"Ingrid told me, so Laney must have told her." Anton shrugged. The keys on the keyboard clicked and clacked. I poured myself a cup of coffee
.“
Mads, maybe you should skip the forum."

"Did Laney put you up to this?"

"No, but maybe she should have."

"Don't, Anton. I already got into it with her last night."

Anton finally looked away from the screen. He reached for his coffee mug. "She's not herself these day, Mads. I noticed it last time you two were round. She's...it's like the life's been sucked out of her."

"She's just tired. Freya's not sleeping again."

"I think it's more than that." Anton scratched his neck. "I've known Laney a long time—"

"I know."

"Mads—just...follow through, okay?" Something in his tone of voice caught me off guard. His dark eyebrows were knitted together, the line of his shoulders tense. "She needs this."

Anton's words kept eating away at me. I knew Laney wasn't happy. I didn't know what to do to make her happy. She always looked...worried, and when I tried to talk to her about it, we ended up arguing. And I saw how worn out she looked. And I pretended not to see. Oh fuck, this was my fault. I knew it. I could have been better at being so many things for her. And she stuck with me. She still told me she loved me even if sometimes her voice sounded so weary that I was afraid to question, even in jest, if she was certain. Because why would she be certain? I'd not been there for her, not since Freya was just a couple of months old. I'd helped as long as I thought she needed it and then jumped right back into working.

I called the restaurant and booked a table, then I called the hotel and asked them for one of the spa suites. Then I texted Laney...told her how much I loved her and to meet me at the restaurant at 7:30.

Tonight I would make it up to her.

Tonight I would get everything right.

"I heard it's your anniversary."

I looked up from the sketches Jonas had given me.  Benny was perched on the far end of the farm table we used for all meetings and group pow-wows. "It's actually next week, but we'll all be in Milan."

"So you're celebrating early?" She crossed her ankles. Her overalls gapped at the side and revealed glimpses of evenly tanned skin. I glanced away. "I love that you two are so...romantic." She said it as though my wanting to do something nice for Laney was quaint.

"Did you finish the updates to the sketches for the Hotel Alexandra project?" I didn't want to discuss Laney with Benny. I knew how it would go. Benny was one of those women who said she was one of the guys. But she made sure you always knew she wasn't one of the guys. And right now I couldn't concentrate with her watching me, swinging her legs back and forth, flashing that smile I knew my workshop mates Jonas and Morten had called saucy. Saucy because she made you feel like she'd stripped you naked without even removing a single piece of clothing, like she should see past all your defenses. She was the sort of woman you could fuck if you wanted and pretend you could go back to being friends. Because that's what the cool girls did. At least, that's what Laney used to tell me. Because she said she'd been one of those women. 

I stole another glance at Benny. She'd hopped off the table and was now peering down at the table top and the unfurled prints of the ideas for the hotel renovation we'd presented for a project bid.  She leaned forward, the tops of her breasts suddenly exposed. I felt my mouth going dry. I looked away. I didn't want her. I knew I didn't. I wanted my wife. But...no, this was just a rough patch. Benny was not the one I wanted to hold.

I wanted Laney.

I wanted her to want me again.

CHAPTER THREE: Laney

Is This It?

I
was tempting fate, wearing this dress. It was the dress I'd worn for him so many years ago. I'd found it at the back of my closet, wrapped in tissue paper and safely hidden away in a garment bag. I'd pulled it out for nostalgia's sake. I could still remember when I'd found it in Eddy's boutique. I'd imagined an entire history for this wisp of a dress. And when I wore it that first time, I'd felt as beautiful as the dress—delicate, a little mysterious. What I couldn't believe was that it still fit. Two pregnancies had changed my body. My hips were a little wider now and my breasts heavier, but the dress still skimmed my curves and the Laney I saw in the mirror was...desirable, maybe even beautiful. I turned to see how it looked from the back—was that my ass? It looked like a peach waiting to be devoured—a J-Lo ass...a Beyon
cé
ass...how could that be my ass? Or was chasing after a four-year-old and a seven-month-old better exercise than all the jogging I used to do? I smiled at my reflection—I almost looked like the old me. I almost felt like the old me—getting excited to see Mads, knowing that in a few hours we could be making love and we wouldn't be interrupted by toddlers waking up and wanting snacks or four-year-olds who suddenly remember they want to tell us what Bobbi Fox had to say today... I would have Mads to myself again, even if it was only for one night.

Sasha, Anton and Ingrid's eldest daughter, was doing babysitting duty. She'd already charmed Liv into taking a bath—no mean feat since my little charmer didn't mind being covered in mud or sweat—and changing into a nightshirt. Now she was reading to Liv and Freya—thankfully she'd managed to convince Liv that
What Does the Fox Say
was all well and good but
Cat in the Hat
was much more fun. Sasha had come by earlier so that I could go to the salon and get the full package—hair cut and pretty much full-body wax maintenance. I hadn't done any of that since Freya was born. She was not a calm baby, though now she was being the perfect little cherub, sitting in Sasha's lap, clapping along with the sing-song rhythm of Sasha's voice as she kept both girls enthralled with what the Cat would do next.

I slipped into a pair of the come-fuck-me heels I hadn't worn since the beginning of my pregnancy. Just putting them on made me feel like suddenly I was sexy and wanton. I practiced walking in them, remember Eddy's advice from when we were teenagers—swing your hips, don't stalk...that's the whole point of heels...to get them looking in the right place. That old familiar feeling returned. I wobbled at first and then with each step I took my body remembered the right way to walk, the right way to sway.

I grabbed my clutch and my shawl and crossed the hall to the girls' room. Sasha whistled at me. "Damn!
Du ser godt ud!
I love that dress, Aunt Laney!"

"Mommy, you look bee-yoo-tee-ful!" I bent down so Liv could give me a kiss. She giggled and ran her fingertip along the embroidered hem. "You look like a princess, Mommy."

"Why thank you, sweetie. Do you think Daddy will think so too?"

She nodded. "Daddy says you're the prettiest woman in the whole world."

I gave her a good cuddle, then kissed Freya goodbye.

Hopefully tonight we could get back on track.

He was late. I didn't want to glance at my phone again. I didn't need to. The waitress had already come by twice asking if I wanted to order a starter while I waited for my guest. I shook my head no and asked for another glass of wine. I was on my second glass. I'd had to drink slowly to make sure I wouldn't overdo it. Please let him be on his way. Please let him not be in an accident or stuck in another meeting. My mind was already rationalizing the reasons he wasn't here.

I was at the last possible one—he forgot—when my phone beeped. I swiped the screen.

Running late—there in 15 minutes. XOXO.

I typed in "OK" and took another sip of my wine. He was on his way. He hadn't forgotten me. But then the minutes crept by and fifteen minutes bled into thirty minutes. I texted him but received no reply. I waited a few more minutes and tried not to let my spirits fade. I knew how he was when he was at the workshop. He could get caught up in a project, new ideas would come to him, seducing him away from thoughts of anything else. I tried texting again but he still didn't answer.

It was over an hour now. I flagged down the waitress, made a ridiculous excuse that I was certain she saw through, and paid for my drinks. When I walked out of the restaurant, I'd hoped I'd bump into him, but he was nowhere to be found on Store Kongensgade. Though it was nearly nine o'clock in the evening, the sky wasn't dark. Summers in Scandinavia were magical like that. The white nights...the strange, disconnected feel from the rest of the year. I tried to stay focused on this as I walked the route that would take me to his workshop. There was no point in going to the hotel. If he'd forgotten about the restaurant, there was no way he'd show up at the hotel.

That old familiar feeling? Where I felt beautiful and sexy and desirable? It was seeping away, taking with it every morsel of my self-confidence. Was I so easy to forget? Even when I'd told him I needed him... I nearly began sobbing as I waited for the traffic light to go from red to green. I blinked the tears back. No, I would not cry. I was not going to be one of those women who became hysterical in public, even if my stomach was twisting in knots and my eyes burned. Fuck! This was embarrassing...

By the time I arrived at his workshop, I'd talked myself down, told myself I could forgive him for forgetting about me as long as he was creating something beautiful. His passion for his craft was one of the things I loved about him...even when it meant his craft was more like his mistress. I put on a practiced smile, reminded myself that there were worse things that could happen... I'd nearly convinced myself that I was no longer angry when I finally pushed open the door and took in the scene. The atmosphere was more party than meeting... Music blasted from the ceiling speakers. The main area—what they usually used as a showroom/consultation area was crowded with bodies... Somewhere in here was Mads. I eased past the unfamiliar bodies, until I saw him...leaning against the farm table they jokingly referred to as their roundtable, beer in hand, and laughing at something the woman with him was saying. At first I didn't recognize her but then it clicked—this was the infamous Benny, the bombshell Jonas spent ages swooning over when we'd had a barbecue in our apartment building's communal garden. She tossed her hair back and reached out—her hand lingered on his arm.
Move, Mads
, I wanted to scream.
Don't let her touch you!
But he took a swig of his beer and let her hand stay perched near his elbow. She took a step closer to him—his eyes traveled the whole length of her and then lingered on her chest.

Fucking hell...

I shouted his name, hoping he could hear me above the music and conversations. I was nearly there when he finally turned and saw me. I didn't imagine the startled look on his face. He rushed over to me, already apologizing even though I could barely hear him over the music. He took my arm and led me through the crowd again. When we were outside, he tried to explain again.

"You could have called me." I stepped away from him. "You should have said you were having a party at the workshop."

"It was spur of the moment—we won the bid for the hotel project. And the owners sent everything...the drinks, the food...by courier." He blocked me in by the wall. "Laney, I'm sorry...I should have..."

"You should have come. You should have remembered what you said last night." I dodged the kiss he tried to give me, it landed on the side of my mouth. I pushed him away. "No, you can't kiss or fuck your way out of this one..."

"Jesus, Laney, I'm sorry! I didn't mean for this to happen, we just got so excited when we heard the news."

I shook my head; I didn't want to hear any more. "I'll see you at home."

"
Fanden
, Laney...don't just walk away."

But I kept walking. I told myself he'd catch up with me. He'd come home, we'd work everything out. But by the time I crossed the bridge, I knew he wasn't behind me.

He'd let me go.

*     *     *

I
sent Sasha home in a taxi. She didn't ask the obvious. Instead, she simply told me the girls were already asleep, and then gave me a tight hug before she skipped downstairs to the waiting taxi. I stepped out of my heels and left them by the front door. Barefoot now, I padded down the hallway and checked on Liv and Freya. They were both fast asleep. Liv had thrown off the bed sheet and was sprawled across her bed. Her stuffed fox had fallen on the floor. I crept into the room and picked up the fox, then tucked it into the bed. Sasha had left the window open enough to catch the breeze. Freya had her penguin in one hand while her thumb was planted firmly between her lips. I stroked her burnished curls... my god, how could he give me two daughters, such gifts of love, and still make me feel like there was no love left between us?

I whispered goodnight to my sleeping daughters and then backed out of the room.

I wasn't sure how long I sat on the sofa, waiting...my face stripped of all the makeup, my dress draped across a chair in the bedroom. I would never wear it again. Now it felt jinxed. I'd changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I'd not had dinner. I should have been hungry...but the mawing sensation in my belly didn't make me want to eat. It was too hot. My skin felt clammy, sticky. I hadn't smoked in over a year but now I wished I could have a cigarette. I longed for the illicit pull of the tobacco. I longed to forget.

How could he forget? How could I be so easy to forget? He used to remember everything. Every little detail of my life, memorizing it like it held some hidden meaning. He used to tell me he wanted to know everything about me. He'd remember things I'd forgotten. Now it felt like he'd forgotten all the important bits. Maybe he didn't want to remember.

For the first time in a long time, I found myself thinking about Niklas. He was remarried now. I'd been right all along...he remarried his ex-wife. Sometimes he called me, checking in, he'd say. Often bringing news of Jesper, whom I spoke to often, who came to visit once or twice a month. Occasionally, Niklas would tell me about Siri, about her latest boyfriend or how she was still running wild. We'd fall into an easy pattern and then suddenly he'd remember he couldn't call me like this too often; we weren't simply old friends. He never asked about Mads.

All those years I'd spent with Niklas...and then Mads had come along and opened my eyes to something new. I'd already been on a path of walking away without even realizing it. Was that what was happening now? Were Mads and I falling apart..? Was he traveling on that path now, longing for something—or someone—new?

*     *     *

When
he came home, the summer night sky was finally dark. I was sitting on the balcony, trying to avoid going into the kitchen and snatching my emergency pack of cigarettes from its hiding place in the freezer. I hadn't smoked since I'd found out I was pregnant with Freya. I'd told myself I would quit now. I wanted to be a good role model for my daughters. I didn't want them to make the same stupid mistakes in life that I'd made. But the urge to smoke, to pour another glass of wine and blot out how humiliating it had been to sit there, waiting for him when he was enthralled in the company of another woman... maybe I was jumping the gun. But it niggled at me. We'd cheated...we'd been the ones who had the affair. What was stopping him from having another affair? He said he loved me...but now...well, now I wasn't so sure.

Below, the main door to our communal garden creaked open, then closed. Mads appeared but didn't look up. His footfalls echoed on the flagstones. I nearly called out to him but thought better of it. Instead, I left the balcony and walked through the apartment into the living room. I shivered a little. The air had cooled off now that the sun had finally set.

Mads opened the door and stepped in without seeing me. He pushed the door shut and then set his keys on the battered console table we used as a catch-all for everything...keys...bus tickets...magazines that needed to be recycled. He cursed under his breath...then he finally looked up and saw me standing there, arms crossed, waiting for him.

"Laney, I didn't mean for tonight to go this way." His jaw twitched. He ran his fingers over his lips. Had she kissed him? "I'm so sorry..."

I heard the guilt in his voice. He didn't approach me. Not at first. And the distance between us was like standing on opposite shores o
fØ
resund Strait. I wanted to go to him, but I was afraid I'd lash out. I balled my hands into fists and kept them tucked under my crossed arms.

"Was that the infamous Benny...? The one all your shopmates are drooling over?"

He nodded. He kept his eyes trained on the white-washed oak floor.

His silence, like an admission of misdoings, crept up on me and nipped away at the calm veneer I was struggling to maintain. I didn't want to shout, not when the girls were sleeping. I didn't want them to hear us fighting again. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I kept telling myself I could do this—confront him without screaming. My mother had been the master of quiet force. Even at the worst of times, she never turned into one of those women who screamed and cried and caused scenes. Even when my father was intentionally pushing her buttons...she'd kept it together. I wanted my mother now. I wanted her here beside me, her hand on my shoulder as she assured me everything would be alright. That I would survive this. That I could live without him.