Maybe Forever (Maybe... Book 3) (7 page)

"There is Eddy too," my grandmother surmised. "And of course there is Eddy's mother."

"I don't think she went there," I said. "Laney wouldn't go so far—"

"You've got to make things right, Mads. Don't let her slip through your fingers. Remember what you told me the first time you brought her here."

I nodded. I still remembered sitting in my grandmother's living room with Laney beside me, my heart practically bursting from all the love I felt for her, even then.

"Don't let your work...or anyone else...get in the way. Ever."

We sat for a long time, not speaking. I leaned forward, resting my arms on thighs and staring down at the grass. She'd said goodbye to everyone...except me.

"
Farmor
, did Laney tell you where she was going?"

"She did," Farmor said. "But I don't think I should betray her confidence. Not unless you plan on doing something about it."

"Will you tell me?"

"No, I don't think I will." Farmor let out a sigh and then patted my knee. "Laney will tell you in her own time. And really, she is the one who should tell you."

"I just want to know that she and the girls are okay."

"Don't you worry about that. She's in safe hands." My grandmother pushed herself to her feet. I jumped up, ready to help. She tutted at me. "I'm not an invalid, Mads."

"Have you spoken to her? Has she called you,
farmor
?"

But my grandmother didn't answer. She was walking along the edge of the garden, examining her rosebushes and tsk-tsking over the state of them. I knew how much she loved her garden and I needed a distraction. I spent the rest of the afternoon deadheading roses and pulling weeds while my grandmother reminisced about my grandfather and told me about my father's visit. I thought she'd change her mind and share Laney's whereabouts with me, but she was adamant. At least I knew for sure she was in America and she was with Eddy's mother. I couldn't remember where Eddy's mother lived, but I'd met Cecily twice. Aside from Eddy, and Laney's father—whom we had no contact with—Cecily was Laney's only family. She took her in when Laney's mother died. Liv called her "gramma"—her version of grandmother. If Laney was with Cecily, then I knew I didn't have to worry. But that didn't stop me from missing her and wanting to go to her.

*     *     *

We didn't speak directly. I didn't know if Laney had her phone on all the time.

I left messages, she left messages. It went on like this for several days. She still would not tell me where she was.

"Why can't you just tell me?" I'd demanded so many times but the answer was always the same—silence. What made it worse was knowing that our friends knew—Anton, Ingrid, Henrik, Eddy—they all knew but none of them would break their promise to Laney. I should have been glad they loved her so much they were willing to keep her secrets, even from me. I asked her when I could speak to Liv, if we could at least have a Skype call so I could see the girls. At first she didn't reply. I waited. Re-sent the message. Several hours went by before she finally answered, "On Saturday, at 3PM your time, you can talk to the girls."

"Where are you? Please...tell me."

Her only reply was silence.

When Laney and I first moved in together, deep down I was afraid she would leave me. There was a part of me that anticipated her waking up one day and announcing she was going back to Niklas. Even when I knew she was happy with me. Even when we were so intense it often felt like no one else in the world existed... self-doubt had a way of picking me apart at the seams. If Niklas called, warning lights flashed. I'd go stony and silent as I waited for Laney to end the conversation and tell me the news. It never came. Sometimes I'd dream about her getting married to him and I'd wake up determined to convince her that I was the man for her. She sensed when these moments of insecurity rattled me. Sometimes she'd tell me little snippets of the bad times in their relationship...what went wrong, why she would never go back to him. Eventually I heard enough to accept that she was where she wanted to be.

Now I almost wished she'd gone to Stockholm with the girls. At least I'd know where to look for them. America was too big. I thought about calling Jesper. I knew he was in New York now. He'd moved there in January to work on his bachelor's degree. But I wasn't even sure if he was in New York City. Laney had only said "New York," and I'd been so preoccupied with helping Liv build a LEGO castle that it never occurred to me to ask if she meant the city or the state. Calling Jesper was a good option but I was pretty certain he would not tell me anything. His loyalty to Laney was one of the things I liked about him. And he'd never break her trust. Not to me.

*     *     *

I wasn't sure how late it was when our landline rang. I'd finally fallen asleep, drugged by the oppressive heat. I'd expected to hear Laney on the other end, but instead it was Niklas.

"Sorry to disturb, but I was hoping Laney could help me with a phone number."

Even now, he still never greeted me when I answered or called me by name. I don't suppose he ever would.

I ran my hand over my mouth. "Lane
y’
s not here." I did
n’
t want to say anything. If he knew she'd left me, Niklas would probably smirk to himself and think nothing of telling me I deserved it. "I could tell her to—"

"I'll call her tomorrow." Niklas cut me off. "Or
I’
ll call her mobile."

“
She's not really checking her mobile..
.
”

“
Why? Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She's away for the weekend with the girls..." It was too easy to lie to him. I hated lying, but he was the last person I would ever tell that Laney was gone and that I didn't know when she was coming back.

"Honestly, Mads? You think I want to keep talking to you, making small talk with you?"

"I only offered to help.
I’
m not asking you to give me an update on your life."

I waited for him to say something, anything. I could hear him breathing, so I knew he was still on the line. How often did he call? Was this another one of the details of my wif
e’
s life that
I’
d missed? That her ex still called and felt comfortable enough to do so, even late at night. Where had I been when all of this was going on?

"Do you have Anton and Ingri
d’
s phone number?" he finally said. "
I’
ve found a host for Sasha."

"A host?"

"Laney did
n’
t tell you?"

This time I said nothing. I waited.

"This is rich. I thought you two told one another everything. Laney always makes it sound like you know everything about one another because of your special... connection."

This time I cut him off before he could rub more salt into my wounds. I rattled off Anton and Ingrid's number and hoped they wouldn't confide in Niklas. I didn't think they would.

The worst part was that I almost wished Laney had gone to him. At least I'd know for sure where she was. And Niklas, as much as he hated me for taking Laney away from him, still loved her. It didn't matter that he was married to someone else. He still loved Laney.

*     *     *

On Saturday I was too restless to sit at home all morning. I went out for a run and then ended up at the workshop. The lights were on already when I arrived and Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" was echoing through the space. I called out for Jonas and Morten, but the music was too loud. But neither of my workshop mates was there working on a Saturday.

It was Benny. She was bent over Jonas's drafting table, scribbling notes on what looked like the designs she'd shown us for a credenza. Instead of wearing her hair loose as she usually did, she'd pulled it into a messy topknot. It reminded me too much of Laney, of how she'd stretch her slender brown arms and then twist her hair, sometimes into a ponytail or a bun...but at night, always a topknot with stray tendrils of curls escaping from it. I blinked quickly. I didn't want Benny to remind me of Laney...I didn't want Benny in my head at all. Yes, she was attractive, and she was the sort of eye candy we men say we always want, but when it came down to it, the only woman who had the power to bring me to my knees was my wife.

Benny looked up from her designs. The smile she flashed at me—surprised, then almost flirtatious—caught me off guard. Anton's warning—that Benny was interested in me—blinked in my head. "I thought I'd have the place to myself," she said by way of explanation. She set down her pen. She was wearing one of those wife beater-style tank tops and it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples pressed against the fabric. When she moved, her breasts swayed. I looked away, told myself to stay focused. I didn't want to be reminded of Laney asking me if I was attracted to Benny. Then, I hadn't answered her. I hadn't wanted to admit that there times when her overt sexiness affected me. Admitting it wouldn't have solved anything. It wouldn't have made Laney come back to me. It wouldn't have convinced her I still loved her or that she was the only woman I wanted.

I nodded at her and then ventured to the back of the workshop where I always worked. It was better if there was distance between us. I focused instead on going through the design revisions the hotel group had requested. I kept my phone within reach in case Laney called.

I wasn't sure how much time passed. Benny stayed on her side of the workshop; I stayed on mine. But it was impossible to ignore her completely. She'd walk past, humming. Or she'd call out questions about some technique that she wanted to try for designing a joinery system for a table with wishbone legs. She knew how to get your attention. Benny made just enough noise, like a low frequency constantly registering in your thoughts.
Focus
, I reminded myself, each time she distracted me.
She is not who you want or need.

"Listen...it's getting late, and I was thinking about heading across the bridge for a beer." Benny perched on the edge of my desk.

"I need to finish this," I said. "Big meeting on Monday."

"Come on, Mads. I heard you were home alone, so it's not like you have to rush home."

"What? Who told you...?"

She grinned at me. "Jonas said your wife went to the States."

"She's visiting her aunt. She'll be back soon."

"So you could go out for a drink then. You look like you could use some company."

"No," I retorted. I pushed back my chair and stood up. "I should head home anyway. Laney's going to call me—"

"I'm not going to bite, Mads. It's just one beer, and we're both heading the same direction." Benny slid off my desk now. She shrugged at me and then started walking towards the front of the workshop.

One beer... if it were Anton or Willem and Ibrahim, I would have said yes immediately. We'd have locked up for the night and then headed across the bridge to
Nø
rrebro or Fredriksberg to have a beer and blow off steam. But Anton's warning was still fresh in my mind. And Laney's reaction to seeing me with Benny was still a raw reminder of everything I stood to lose if someone like her ripped a hole in my life. Keeping things professional was the only option. I picked up the design prints and then put them away for safekeeping.

We closed up shop and then headed towards Dronning Louises Bro. The thick heat pressed into my skin.

"Are you coming with me?" Benny asked as she fell into step beside me. We were halfway across the bridge.

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I've got..."

"She's got you whipped, hasn't she?"

"Don't talk like that about my wife."

"Sorry—I only meant it as a joke."

"I don't think it's funny. And I'm your boss—not one of your friends or your drinking buddies."

Sortedam Dossering was just ahead. Benny muttered out an apology as the bus to Husum drove by. I made to turn but then she grabbed my arm.

"So are we having this beer or what?"

"No, Benny, we're not..."

She laughed and shook her head. "Okay, suit yourself." Then she caught me off guard and kissed me quickly on the mouth—I stumbled backwards and put my hands out to push her away, but she backed off again, laughing, and said, "You can't blame me for trying."

"What the hell are you doing?" I stammered.

"You can't blame me for trying
,
” she said again and laughed.

"No...no...fucking hell, Benny—I'm married. I love my wife. And whatever you think is happening between us—it's not going to happen."

She raised her eyebrows at me and then shrugged. "Suit yourself." Then she walked away, heading up
Nø
rrebrogade. I wiped the back of my hand across my lips.

Fucking hell...Anton was right.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Laney

Namaste

Getting
Liv to take a nap after her phone call with Mads proved difficult. Just speaking to him had made her so hyper that even my aunt was overwhelmed by the amount of energy my four-year-old could muster. We finally took her to the beach just so she could run and let off some steam. While she ran ahead of us, my aunt and I walked with Freya. Aunt Cecilia was curious to know how the call went. "Did you speak to him?" she asked as soon as Liv found a playmate on the beach.

"Only briefly." I shook out the beach blanket and busied myself with arranging it. Somehow, hearing Mads's voice again felt too fresh. I didn't want to dissect the short conversation we'd had. I'd kept my voice neutral, but inside I was screaming, "I love you—why can't I get over you? Why do I love you so much?" But that was that was the thing—I didn't want to get over Mads. I knew I was weak for him. Ever since that first time we met.  He'd glamoured me and he was all I saw.

Cecily and I settled on the blanket and watched as Freya played with her sand bucket and spade. Liv bounded over, now bored with her new playmate. She plopped down beside Freya and planted a wet kiss on her little sister's cheek.  As my daughters played, I finally confessed to my aunt how it felt to speak to Mads again after nearly a week of only text messages. "I fall every time I hear his voice." I kept my voice low, not wanting Liv to figure out we were talking about her father. "I love him too much, I think that's the problem."

"Sometimes we love too hard." My aunt reached for my hand. "I think you both love too hard, but you've forgotten how to be together."

Liv turned and watched us. She bit her lip and scrunched up her eyebrows. "Mommy, can I talk to Papa tomorrow as well?"

"Maybe," I said. "I can check with Daddy."

Once Liv was satisfied with my answer, she continued playing with Freya and the sand bucket. She sang to her little sister and told her how she'd spoken to their father. My aunt squeezed my hand. "While you're here, I want you to focus on feeling better...but don't give up on your marriage, Laney. Mads isn't perfect, neither are you."

"I don't want him to be perfect. I just want him to show me he wants to be part of our family."

"He does it in his way..."

"He's hardly ever around."

"He is trying to make a living for you and the girls."

"Are you playing devil's advocate or trying to annoy me now?"

"Devil's advocate, my darling." My aunt reached into her tote bag and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses. "I don't want you to make any hasty decisions. I want you to think about what you want. Which is why it's good you're going to come to the yoga course with Freya."

Though I pretended I wasn't paying attention, I took in everything Cecily said. She was my mother now. She was the one person who loved me when the rest of my father's family turned their backs on my mother and me. And when my mother died, Cecily found me and gave me a home. If there was anyone in this world I trusted, it was her. I knew she wanted what was best for Freya, Liv and me. I also knew she liked Mads. That was the problem, wasn't it? Everyone liked him. Men, women...especially women. It was not easy to be married to someone whom everyone adored or wanted.

"There's a girl who works with Mads..." I started. I wasn't sure how to broach the subject with my aunt. A lump was already forming in my throat as I tried to get the words out. I fidgeted with my wedding ring, twisting it round my ring finger, revealing a slim band of paler skin. "I know she wants Mads. And I'm scared that maybe he wants her too."

"Is this what pushed you over the edge?"

I nodded, but didn't make eye contact with my aunt. Instead, I focused on the girls. Freya had found shells in the sand and was trying to put them in the bucket. Liv was scooping sand with the plastic spade and pouring it over the shells. Any moment now a tantrum could erupt. Freya's bottom lip was already beginning to wobble. And Liv got a stubborn look on her face—the same one her father sometimes flashed when he'd already decided to do something no matter what anyone else said. But Aunt Cecily distracted Freya by jangling a set of keys. When she had Freya's attention, she reached in her bag and handed her a rubber duck. Before Liv could grab it away, my aunt handed her her own rubber duck. Tantrum avoided.

"How did you know to do that?" I asked. "I never figure these things out. The tantrums explode; I get nervous, just make things worse..."

"It's just back-up toys. They don't always work." Cecily stretched out her legs now and brushed kernels of sand from her dark skin. "Now tell me. Who is this woman who's got her sights set on your husband?"

"Her name's Benedikte, but she calls herself Benny." Her name felt ugly and sour in my mouth. I grimaced. "She's a furniture design student from one of the local colleges and she looks like the only thing she was made for was sex."

"And you think Mads is attracted to her."

"He didn't even mention her from the beginning. She's been working with him for months and the only one of the interns he ever told me about was Willem—"

"Is that another woman?"

"No, Willem's a guy. He's from Holland. He's been working there for around six months." I watched as Freya abandoned the bucket and crawled across the blanket to me. She looked tired. She hadn't wanted to nap earlier either but now looked hot and exasperated. I reached for her and settled her on to my lap. My aunt rummaged through my tote bag until she found Freya's favorite sippy cup. I'd filled it with apple juice before we left the house. While Freya drank her apple juice, I rocked her, hoping the slow motions would lull her into a nap. Liv commandeered the bucket now and filled it with more sand and shells as she sang about foxes.

"She kissed him, he came home with her lipstick on his cheek and on his neck. He said she was just congratulating him on winning a contract but even before that—when he forgot about our date and I showed up at the workshop—I saw how he was looking at her...and how she was looking at him like he was this prize she was going to reel in. I don't know if anything else has happened." I lowered my voice. "For all I know, he could be fucking her right now."

"Laney, don't jump to conclusions. Do you know for sure that something has happened between them?"

"She kissed him. I saw the evidence of it. I asked him if he was attracted to her and he wouldn't answer me."

"He won't act on it."

"How can you be so sure when I'm not even sure?"

"He's scared he's losing you. Your leaving him? You gave him a wake-up call. He knows he needs to fight for his family."

"He doesn't know anything. He doesn't even know we're here. He just knows we're okay."

"Laney, you can't do this to him."

"It's done."

"You need to tell him where you are. You need to give him a chance to come here and make things right. At the very least, you need to let him know where his kids are."

"You're on his side, then..."

"My darling, I am always on your side. But I want you to think about how you'd feel if he simply disappeared with your children and refused to tell you where he was."

Freya knocked the back of her head against my chest. She tipped her head back and sang "Mama" at me. She was such a happy little girl. And sometimes it hurt to look at her. Especially now when her green eyes reminded me too much of her father. Oh God...my aunt was right. No matter how angry I was...I had no right to keep him from knowing where I was or how he could find his kids. And Aunt Cecily was right—Mads would never do this to me. He would never walk out without telling me where he was going. He would never snatch the children away and take off. He might not be perfect but he would never be so selfish. But a part of me still whispered, he pushed you to this. His thoughtlessness, his assuming he could carry on with life without having to take any real responsibility with raising our children...letting his dreams take precedence over our family...and turning a blind eye to how much I was struggling to cope. And yet...there were those evenings when, even if he was late, he would go in to the girls' room and read to them or the Saturday mornings when he'd let me sleep in and take them to Tivoli, even though he hated all the crowds. And when Liv had nightmares, he'd go bring her to our bed and she'd lie between us as he murmured reassurances to her that there were no monsters under her bed, no witches waiting to eat her. That nothing bad would ever happen to her because he would always love and protect her.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead and she patted my cheek with her sticky hand. I was sure I now had sand stuck to my skin, but it was moments like this when I understood how much love I had inside of me for my youngest daughter. I could hold her like this while she giggled happily and bounced on my legs. She sang to me and blew spit bubbles and called out random words she managed to say. Sometimes it was simply "mama" or "dada"...lately she'd taken to saying "peen-gee"—which Liv said was "penguin"—she was probably right. If there was anything in this world that Freya loved, it was penguins. And Mads...he indulged her love of penguins. He carved and painted wooden penguins for her. He took her to
Det B
l
å Planet
, the aquarium near the airport, so she could see the penguins swimming around in the tanks. I had to remind myself that he did these things; he didn't simply abandon me. He loved his children...he probably loved them more than he loved me, and I was okay with that. Wasn't that how it was supposed to be? But...I still needed his love, I still needed to know he loved me and wanted me and that we were a team...that we really were in it for the long run.

Later, when we'd walked back to my aunt's house and had dinner on her back porch, I bathed the girls and asked them if they were happy they'd had a chance to speak to their father. Liv nodded and splashed me with water. "Papa sounded sad," Liv said in Danish. "He said he misses me."

"He does." I said as I shook out her bath towel. My aunt had found towels with penguin and fox prints for the girls.

"He said he miss you too, Mommy." She held up her arms and I lifted her out of the tub. I tried to keep my cool as I dried her off and helped her into her pajamas. Freya was still splashing in the tub. "You miss Papa too?"

I nodded. "I do..." Then I patted her bottom. "Now, go and give Gramma a kiss and then Freya and I will come in and we'll have a story."

Next, I took care of drying off a slippery and very wriggly Freya. I managed to get her into her pajamas before she got very far. Who knew a seven-month-old could be so quick—especially when she couldn't walk yet but was doing this scoot-crawl combo. After I cleaned up the bathroom, I found the girls on the floor, playing with the stuffed animals Cecily had given them.

"Which story tonight?"

"The fox..."

"Honey, we don't have that book with us...it's at home."

"I want the fox, though..."

So I made up a story for them. I told them about a fox who wandered far away from the forest and found herself in a big city where she didn't know anyone. "Was she scared?" Liv wondered. Her coppery eyes were wide with curiosity. She snuggled into me and clutched my arm. "I would be scared."

"Me too," I told her. Liv snaked her arm over my belly. "Even mommies get scared sometimes."

"I protect you, Mommy."

I could just imagine Liv, dressed in her favorite fox pajamas and a cape, exhibiting her superhero powers as she sought to protect me from any danger. My fearless daughter. Just four years old and she thought she could save the world. I hugged her and finished telling the story about the fox. As the story progressed, with the fox meeting a hippopotamus, a warthog and a weasel as well as a possum and a rhino, my aunt joined us. She'd also changed into her version of pajamas—silk loungewear I would have thought was far too glamorous for story time on the floor. So the story continued—our fox, who just happened to be named Bobbi Fox like Liv's favorite fox. I tried to come up with as many fun adventures as possible for the animal pals. Finally Liv yawned—her sleepiness winning the war of wills—and then she said, "This better than my other fox story."

"I'll tell you more tomorrow night," I promised as I pulled back the covers on her bed.

Liv scrambled into the bed and gave it a good bounce. "Promise?"

"Scout's honor." I bent down and gave her a good night kiss. I'd set my phone on her bedside table before I started the story; now it was blinking, and Mads's ringtone for text messages cut through the drowsy mood in the room.

Liv turned over on her belly and lifted her head, "Papa is calling, Mommy!"

I swiped my screen and read Mads's message: "There is no one else but you, Laney. I want to see you. I want to see our daughters. Please tell them I love them."

I knew Liv would not sleep until she had an idea of what her father said, so I told her that her father loved her very much.

"I love Papa too." She sighed. "Tell him, Mommy."

"I will, sweetie, I'll send him a message now." I typed in her message and then showed her the screen. Though she couldn't read yet, Liv nodded and said, "Good! Now Papa won't be so sad."

I kissed her good night and then turned off the lamp.

My aunt was singing a lullaby to Freya and had managed to get her into her toddler bed. She adjusted the safety rail and then tucked Freya in. Our daily visits to the playground and the beach seemed to tire her out enough that she drifted off pretty quickly every night. As we both left the room, my aunt paused to turn on the night lamp.