Maybe Baby (20 page)

We were late leaving, mostly because I was procrast
inating. Mads had started losing his patience, so I stopped changing outfits and hairstyles and settled on bullying my hair back into a curly ponytail and slipping into the dress I'd bought to wear for him. I topped it with an angora sweater and hoped I would be warm enough. Summer had moved on, and the air in Copenhagen was beginning to bear the chill promise of the coming winter.

We picked up a bottle of wine on the way, and then walked the rest of the way to their apartment. My shoes pinched my toes. I wished I'd worn ballerina flats instead
of these platform pumps. I'd thought the heels would fill me with more confidence, but now my toes were screaming and I was irritable. I didn't think this was going to be a good omen for the evening.

They lived in a turn of the century building not far from the Round Tower and the University of Copenh
agen campus. I was glad we didn't have to climb any stairs. My toes and heels were sore but I pretended I was fine. Mads pressed in the security code and then we went inside. The building reminded me of my old apartment building in Stockholm, with its birdcage elevator and stone stairs.

I'd thought it would be a small party, but from the noise level before we even opened the door to the apar
tment, I could tell it had spiraled into something more. We entered a house party in full swing. There were at least twenty people in their living room, and a song I remembered from the first summer I lived in Stockholm—"Summer Sun" by Texas—was blasting from the speakers as a trio of clearly drunk ballerinas screeched along. Mads laced his fingers with mine. I smiled in relief. I'd thought for a moment that he would wander off in search of his friends. It was what I was used to from Niklas. We'd arrive at parties and, as soon as our coats had been taken care of, he'd vanish, reappearing only when it was time to sit down at the table for dinner, or when I'd finally given up looking for him and was on the verge of leaving.

But Mads took me around and introduced me to Trine's ballerina friends. He called them the Bunheads, and they giggled. They were all tiny and delicate-looking, with doe eyes accentuated with wings of thick false lashes and liquid eyeliner.

"We came directly from an afternoon performance," one of them—Sara, I think—explained.

One of the others, a brunette with honey skin and coppery eyes, added,
"We're doing
Romeo & Juliet
this season. It's so demanding."

Standing next to them made me feel old and fat. I was in good shape from running every morning, even though I hated exercising, but these women with their lithe bo
dies and their deceptive fragility made me feel... bulky. I knew they were appraising me. It's what women do at parties. They suss each other up, comparing notes as they wonder how you managed to bag the gorgeous guy at your side. One or two of them gave me looks that confirmed I was right.

"
Did you date any of them?" I asked Mads as we moved further into the crowd.

"
Nope, none of them," he said and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "They never eat. I like a woman with curves."

We threaded our way through the apartment, with Mads introducing me to countless people whose names I quickly forgot. Some of them greeted me with cheek kisses, others nodded and simply said hello in Danish. By the time I met Trine and Adam, my nervousness had
subsided. Adam was easy to like. He was effusive and a little goofy, like a boy who'd suddenly realized he was supposed to be a grownup. He didn't ask any uncomfortable questions, or make any comments that alluded to knowing the how's and why's of how Mads and I had met. Instead, he babbled about how Mads was probably driving me crazy with wood chips and sawdust. Trine, on the other hand, was aloof. She gave me a tight smile that was neither friendly nor welcoming. She wasn't exactly rude, but she gave off an air of disapproval. And when Mads and Adam went out to the building's courtyard to smoke, Trine seemed ill at ease with me. She made idle conversation with me, but didn't ask anything about me or how things were with Mads.

It was only when she offered me a glass of wine that she finally said,
"I don't understand how you could meet Mads at that clinic and then decide to leave your husband."

"
Did Mads tell you how we met?"

"
He told Adam, and Adam told me." She took a sip of her wine and shrugged. "We tell each other everything."

"
I'm not married," I corrected.

"
I don't really get it, though." Trine swept a loose strand of hair away from her high forehead. She folded her slender arms across her chest and stared me down. "I know Mads is a great guy, but it's hard to believe you dropped everything and left someone for a man you met at a sperm bank."

"
Maybe you should discuss this with Mads, since he's your friend." I didn't want to let Trine's words affect me, but she was already getting to me. It reminded me too much of that first dinner party I'd attended as the new woman in Niklas's life. The only thing missing was Karolina, a little drunk from too much Chablis, and telling everyone how I'd lured her husband away with whatever black magic I was working with my pussy—when they'd been divorced for four or five years by the time Niklas and I met.

"
So how does this work now? Are you still going to have a baby with him? Except now you don't have to pay for his load?"

"
You've got to be kidding me." I set my glass of wine on the counter. Some of the ballerinas wandered in, searching for wine. One of them winked at me as she grabbed a bottle. She said something in Danish that I couldn't understand. "Sorry? I don't really get Danish yet."

The Bunhead giggled and touched my arm.
"I just said how envious we are, you get the delectable Mads."

"
And you get all of him," one of the other ballerinas added. "Not just the part he leaves at the sperm bank."

I shook my head and walked out of the kitchen. In the living room, someone was passing around a joint but I waved it away. My ankle wobbled but I kept walking. Mads was still outside, smoking and laughing with A
dam. Two of the Bunheads had joined them. I couldn't stay here. I picked up my shawl from the sofa and walked out. I would rather be alone than spend another minute in this apartment. I didn't get very far though before I bumped into someone else I didn't want to see. Ida from Copenhagen Cryo was just emerging from under the stone arch that marked separated the main house from the courtyard. She stopped suddenly. "Ms. Halliwell... what are you doing here?"

I shrugged quickly and tried sound blasé as I a
nswered, "Some acquaintances are having a get-together..."

"
You know Adam and Trine?" Ida narrowed her eyes.

"
Not very well, no."

She nodded.
"You know, I've been wondering if you and your partner have decided..."

"
We're no longer together," I said abruptly. "I've got to go. It was so nice seeing you again."

I walked away as quickly as I could, even with my feet killing me, and I didn't stop until I was back in the lobby of the hotel-apartment complex. The doorman said something to me, but I shook my head and boarded the elevator without seeing anything than the idea of r
etreating to my apartment and erasing the evening from my mind.

In my apartment, the air had the stale stillness of a place left neglected. I had barely spent any time here since Mads and I had stopped sneaking around and could be out in the open. I opened the balcony door and stared out at the harbor. Below me, drunken tourists stumbled towards Nyhavn in search of microbrewery pubs. I was
almost tempted to join them, just link arms with them and throw back pints until I was so drunk I wouldn't remember my name. It would have been a nice feeling, to obliterate the night and even my name from memory, but the only thing that would happen was that I'd wake up ill and nauseous with shame.

I sat on the stiff, uncomfortable sofa and listened to the night settling around me.

I didn't care what those ridiculous ballerinas said. I didn't even really care what Trine thought. All that mattered was that Mads knew it wasn't like that.

Who was I kidding? I'd wanted them to like me, to approve of me as the woman in
Mads's life. I'd forgotten how maddening this part of being a couple could be. I wanted to go back to the little bubble where there was only the two of us, caught up in the euphoria of simply being together. Most of all, I wanted to feel like his friends could embrace me in his life and look past how we'd met.

I picked up my phone.

No missed calls. No texts.

For the first time since I'd arrived in Denmark, I felt incredibly alone.

*      *      *

"
Where are you?" I'd fallen asleep on my sofa, and my vibrating phone startled me awake. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the grainy darkness.

"
At my place." I hated how I sounded, like a spoiled, petulant child.

"
Elskede
, I'm coming over."

"
No, Mads. I think I need to be alone tonight." I tried to smooth away my embarrassment and anger. None of this was his fault. He hadn't known his friends would be so judgmental.

"
I don't think so," he said. "We said we'd never do this, just walk away from one another when we're upset. So I think we should meet. And if you won't let me come to you, then you can at least meet me somewhere."

"
It's late, Mads."

"
Laney, I could meet you outside your building. We could go to my workshop together. I've got something I want to show you and I want to make sure you're okay. Is that so wrong?"

"
No... it's sweet, actually." I bit my lower lip to suppress the silly smile threatening to spread across my face. "You don't have to come here. I'll come to you."

"
I'm only a few minutes away. I could be there in five minutes."

"
No, it's fine. I'll ride my bike over."

"
So, I'll see you in ten minutes. At my workshop?"

I nodded, and then remembered he couldn't see me.
"Yes, I'm on my way now."

I propped my bike against the wall just inside the entrance to his workshop. Further in, I could hear Mads'ss humming along with the radio. Above my head, the pendant lights buzzed and popped on. I shivered a little. Since no one had been in the workshop all weekend, the heat was off and a chill had permeated the thick stone walls. Mads called out to me from the back of the workshop, "Come on back. I'm just moving some things out of the way."

I followed his voice into the darkened workshop, keeping one hand out to avoid bumping into his
shopmates' equipment and leftover bits of wood. I was still wearing the dress, though now it was crumpled from sleeping on the sofa. But even if it was no longer pristine, I didn't want to snag it on anything sharp.

Mads emerged from behind a metal shelving unit piled high with binders and smudged boxes. He flashed an uncertain smile at me.
"I made something for you," he said as I came closer. "I wanted something you could use, you could touch... and it would always remind you of me."

"
You make it sound like we've come to the end."

"Have we?" I heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"I hope not," I said softly. The words came so easily. I didn't want this to be the end of us. But how could we keep it together if even his closest friends were against us? Every time I thought about Trine and the disgusted expression on her face, the venom she'd trickled in my ear. My chest tightened.

"
I don't want this getting between us. It's going to be like this sometimes, Laney." Mads reached for me and pulled me into his arms. His calm acceptance lulled me. He stroked my hair slowly. "There's always going to be someone new who finds out how we met and who's going to judge us. But they don't matter."

"
They're your friends."

"
Trine can go to hell," Mads murmured. "Adam is my friend. He's the one who's been with me through thick and thin. He doesn't care how we met. All he cares about is that we make each other happy. And you make me happy, Laney. Just you."

He held me a little tighter, and the clean scent of his skin soothed me. I nestled into him, wishing we could always have moments like this when there was no one else around.

"Come," he murmured. "Let's go see what I made for you."

He guided me to the small anteroom where he stored all of his finished work. He turned on the ceiling light and then I saw it, amidst the custom cabinets waiting to be delivered was the desk. My dream desk.

I approached it slowly, not letting go of Mads's hand as I took in the sight of it: so simple and beautiful with its cross base in ebonized oak and the desktop in the same wood, though whitewashed. I ran my fingers over the surface, imagining how many hours he'd spent making this for me. I thought of my old desk, the one languishing in a storage unit in Stockholm. The one Niklas bought without asking me what I liked or what I needed. I bit my lower lip.