Ben shook his head despairingly. “Sometimes?”
Nikolas tapped Ben’s hand then withdrew his own. “Admit it, you didn’t miss me as much as I missed you.” Ben’s eyes widened, but before he could refute this, Nikolas continued, “I’d hoped to come back and find you sick with pining for me, but I come back to find you more annoying than when I left. My absence clearly suited you.” He wanted to run his fingers through Ben’s hair, there in the restaurant, but only gave it a longing glance and returned his gaze to the menu.
Ben laughed. “You enjoy this, don’t you? You argue for the sake of it. What about you?” He put his hand to one shorn side of Nikolas’s hair—far less inhibited in public about admitting their relationship than Nikolas ever was—and rubbed it vigorously. “What the fuck do you call this? Because it surely isn’t a haircut.”
Nikolas pursed his lips again. “Don’t play drinking games with Russians. I lost a bet.” He ran his fingers through the long, blond hair at the top. “I had to kill him before he shaved it all off.”
Ben lowered his hand and let it drop over Nikolas’s, not exactly holding it, but close enough. “Even if you were dead, Nik, I wouldn’t be bored of you.”
Nikolas looked up sharply, both amused and revolted. Ben frowned. “That didn’t come out quite as it sounded in my head.”
“No, I should hope not. My corpse rotting and you still going down on―”
“Shut up! Fuck.”
“Bits falling off in your …”
The waiter came to take their order. Nikolas knew Ben had intended to order steak, his favourite, because he was starving, but he ordered fish instead. Nikolas was therefore finding it hard to order for laughing, and he’d been trying to remain mature and serious. He’d been enjoying his argument, winding Ben up, outmanoeuvring him, keeping him off balance. Sometimes, he went too far, he knew, but Ben always bounced back—usually on him. That was what made it fun.
It wasn’t long before they’d drunk a couple of bottles of wine and several beers between them. Nikolas still didn’t eat much, but he usually managed to outdrink Ben. But then, as he’d once pointed out, he was half-Danish, half-Russian; it was inevitable.
When the waiter left after bringing them another couple of beers, Nikolas said with a resigned sigh, “So, Christmas in a log cabin in the woods surrounded by snow, just you and a hot tub. How ever am I going to cope?” Ben leant back and thoughtlessly ran his fingers through his hair, lifting it and letting it drop. Nikolas watched with fascination. “Don’t worry. I’ve just thought of what we can do to keep busy.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’ve told you many times that I’m never drunk. Well, all right, I admit once you’ve seen me drunk, but that was an extreme case, and I believe the vodka was…how do you say―?”
“Flowing too freely?”
“No. Hmm. Spiked.”
The food arrived, and Ben tackled it like it was going to reanimate and escape. Nikolas ate more slowly, but it was still challenging for him to eat anything in public. He was very glad Ben didn’t comment on this, though. Commenting on anything to him, he acknowledged, tended to make him perverse and do the opposite.
When they were finished, Nikolas began to fiddle with his cutlery, a habit that’d only developed since he’d stopped smoking. He started drumming his fingers.
“Stop it.”
He narrowed his eyes at Ben. “You’ve never given up. You don’t know what it’s like.”
Ben glanced at his watch. “Order some coffee. I’m going…” He waved vaguely toward the bathroom and got up. Nikolas then had the dubious pleasure of watching everyone ogling Ben again as he crossed the room. Focused on just how good Ben looked in the clothes he’d bought him, thinking about the removal of them later, he was jolted back to the present when a woman slid into the chair Ben had just vacated. She smiled and held out her hand. “I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to say hello. I’m Anna.”
Nikolas held out his hand then hesitated as he tried to remember which identity he’d travelled to Denmark under. “Christian Beck.”
“Christian! Oh, sorry, I thought you must be Nikolas. You look just as he says Nik does. How strange.”
Nikolas hesitated for a moment then conceded, “Nikolas is my middle name.”
She nodded, pleased. “I knew it. He can’t have too many friends that match your description, can he? He mentioned you’d come from Russia unexpectedly.”
Nikolas drew his eyes away from her bosom, which was difficult because it appeared to be trying to climb out and join him at the table. He focused on her face. She was heavily made up and appeared to think given enough application of artifice she could still be as attractive as she must have been twenty years ago. He’d place her in her late forties but reckoned she could be younger. He conceded privately he was probably not the best person to be judging these things.
She was studying him as well. When he appeared disinclined to elucidate why he was not still in Russia, she continued, “I was surprised, you see, to see him here tonight because he cancelled our date at the last minute.” She simpered a little and waved at her bosom. “I don’t always dress like this, you know. But he moaned about something coming up unexpectedly—something awkward. That he had to go out. But I suppose he’ll tell me later.” She blushed. “He’s quite chatty after…well…”
Nikolas sat back, assessing, thinking. Finally, at rather a loss for words, he asked, “Sorry, but who are you?”
“Oh, has he not told you about me?” She frowned then nodded and gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes, perhaps because of the divorce. He said it’d hit you rather hard. He wouldn’t want to upset you while you’re still recovering. You know Ben.”
“I thought I did. Told me what?”
“Oh, we’re going to be married!” She patted her stomach and glanced around shyly. “We were hoping in the next few months—before I start to show. We weren’t expecting you to come to Aeroe, of course. He was so sure you were going to be away until December and then go straight to London. So perhaps he wasn’t going to tell you until after the ceremony?” Nikolas was now studying her even more closely. He took a swallow of wine.
“You’re talking about Benjamin Rider? The Englishman who’s staying―”
“With Ingrid. Yes, of course. He was here a moment ago, wasn’t he?”
“How did you meet, did you say?”
“Oh, we met here in Aeroeskoebing when he first arrived. He came to the market, and we just sort of clicked. I know what you’re thinking―”
“I doubt that very much.”
She smiled again. “Well, look, don’t worry. Ben won’t drop you as a friend—I’ll see to that, even if he did say he was getting fed up—anyway…London isn’t that far away. I must go now, but I’ll ask Ben to send you an invite to the wedding. Do say you’ll come. Are you staying on Aeroe long?”
“I’m not sure now. I’m uncharacteristically confused.”
“Oh. Well. Nice to meet you at last. Ben has told me so much about you.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
She slid out of her seat and returned to a table in the corner. After a word or two with some women there, she left.
After another few minutes, Ben returned. He sat back in the seat Anna had recently occupied. “Where’s the coffee?”
Nikolas gave him a winning smile. “So, you haven’t told me how you’ve reached such perfection in your Danish. You didn’t learn it all from Ingrid, surely?”
Ben poured them both some wine and seemed surprised when Nikolas drank his straight down and poured another glass.
“Well, I made some friends, and they’ve all helped. We ate at Alan Lund’s restaurant a lot, and he always chatted to me. But no one else particularly, why?”
Nikolas suddenly stood. “We’re going—now.”
He ignored Ben’s despairing glance at the dessert trolley and strode away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The snow was quite deep now along the sides of the main road. It had been ploughed recently, but a fresh fall had already covered the black. After a few minutes, Nikolas said casually, “Give me your phone. Mine’s dead. I want to text Kate.”
Ben handed it over. Nikolas checked Ben’s outgoing calls, three or four a day to a number on Aeroe. He debated for a moment then rang it, watching Ben. A man answered in Danish, “Hello?” He clicked it off, tapping it against his lips. He sent the number to Kate and told her to identify it for him. Within a few minutes, she texted back saying she was on holiday with her parents for Christmas and would do it when she returned to London. He deleted the message trail.
He tossed the phone onto the dashboard. Ben glanced across again. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Watch the road.”
“Give me your phone.”
“What? No. Why?”
Ben pulled the car over. They were on a stretch of road running along the coast. He held out his hand. “You’ve never let your phone die in the five years I’ve known you. Give it.”
Nikolas climbed out, and the cold hit him, making his breath steam. He walked over the dunes and down to the sand, clear under a bright moon showing through a gap in the cloud. It had stopped snowing, but the wind was making small eddies out of the light covering on the sand.
When Ben got to Nikolas, he was bent over, trying to get a cigarette to light in the wind. Ben plucked it out of his hand, holding it up accusingly. “You promised!”
Nikolas rounded on him. “So did you! Who the fuck is Anna?” He prepared himself to watch Ben lie.
Ben was crushing the cigarette. It was lit, and it burnt his palm. He looked up, clearly annoyed. “Who? I don’t know any Anna.” He gave a rueful shrug. “I don’t know many women, really.”
Nikolas frowned. He studied Ben’s face. “I’ll ask you again, Benjamin. Who’s Anna? And be very careful what you say now, because I’m upset by this.”
Ben finally clued in something important was going on. He ignored his hand and tipped his head to one side. “What’s wrong, Nik? I don’t know anyone called Anna. Who’s she?”
“She’s apparently your pregnant fiancée.”
Ben’s eyes widened. He began to laugh. “Good one…” Then he saw Nikolas’s expression. He took both Nikolas’s arms and held them. He stressed, as slowly and distinctly as he could, “I don’t know anyone called Anna. I don’t sleep with anyone but you, and if I ever marry anyone it would be―And that’s way gayer than I’m ever going to be, so just forget I said that, maybe?”
Nikolas listened to all this with great attention. Finally, he let out a breath of relief. “I think we have a problem then.” He told Ben about the woman who’d come to his table.
The only helpful comment Ben could make was, “They were how big? Wow…” He appeared to read something in Nikolas’s expression so he added weakly, “Anna, huh?”
Nikolas nodded toward the car, and they walked shivering back to the warmth of the interior.
Just before he pulled back onto the road, Ben twisted in his seat. “What did you think, Nik?” He gave him a wounded look. “Bloody hell. How many times do I have to tell you? Five years,
Nikolas
. Five years you’ve known how I feel about you, and you think I’d ever cheat on you? And on our first date, too.” He studied the tiny blister on his hand. Nikolas had the very distinct impression that the small burn wasn’t to blame for the glistening he could see in Ben’s eyes.
He fiddled unnecessarily with the heating controls. Ben rarely called him Nikolas. He reckoned he was in trouble.
Ben suddenly pulled back out onto the road, and they proceeded on their way. Nikolas tentatively handed him back his phone. Ben said, “Thank you,” exceedingly politely.
Nikolas mirrored his tone. “You’re welcome.” After a few more moments, he added, “I suppose an apology isn’t going to impress you much at the moment.”
“Why don’t you try one and see?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nope, not doing it for me.”
Nikolas blew out a long breath, his fringe rising and falling softly over his eyes. He heard a low chuckle from the driver’s seat and turned. “You were actually jealous of a
woman
. Oh—my—God,
you
want to have my babies.”
“You’re going to make me pay for this, aren’t you?”