Reluctantly, I put the phone back on my desk and run to catch my flight.
As the tiny thirty-nine passenger flight approaches Bodø, turbulence shakes it so that I’m forced to push my head back into the headrest. I cling to my seat, and a man behind me shrieks as we drop. Outside my window, the landing strip is too far to the left, and although I’m no pilot, the wind seems to be pulling us further from it.
We’re going to crash.
The man behind me has apparently had the same realization because he’s screaming that last scream I can only imagine a skydiver unable to open the parachute would.
I’m supposed to die at home. Not here. Not like this.
I turn to the man behind me. “Breathe, you’ll be all right. They wouldn’t fly if the risk was high.”
I hope.
He nods and closes his eyes, repeating, “We’re fine, we’re fine.”
The pilot makes a steep turn fast, and we’re knocked to the side. The wheels screech on impact with the asphalt, the man starts to laugh, and I release my grip on the armrest, my fingers stiff.
Henrik better be waiting for me at the airport.
Exiting the plane, it’s dark and the staircase sways in the strong winds. My hair wraps itself around my face making it impossible to see where I’m going. I drag it back, support myself on the railing, and head into the tiny terminal.
Henrik’s not here. If he were a gentleman, he’d meet me with flowers. After that ordeal, I hoped he would be.
Half an hour later, I park my rental car in front of the hotel that Henrik has booked for us in Bodø. The city has an odd fish oil scent. I cover my nose heading into reception to get my keycard.
He’s not even waiting for me here? Did Katelyn come? Is he with her instead?
While the two women at the front desk, one tall with braided hair, the other short with glasses, root around in their papers to find my room, I check my phone. There’s no message from Henrik either.
I’m not getting on another flight in this weather. No matter how tempted I am to leave.
Well. I’m not here for pleasantries. I have a job to do. If Henrik isn’t here to meet me, I might as well prepare the room for him for when he does show up. I brought sexy underwear, but champagne will improve the surprise even more.
“Can I please buy a bottle of champagne?”
If Henrik is making his decision tonight between Katelyn and me, this is my last chance to win him over.
They look at me as if what I’ve asked is unheard of. Then, simultaneously, they both respond. “We’ll bring a bottle right up to your room.”
No. I want a glass before Henrik arrives, and you can give it to me now.
In a refrigerator behind them are several bottles. “I’ll bring it myself.” In my experience, it will take at least ten minutes before that bottle arrives, and I’m ready to pop it in the elevator.
The receptionists look at each other, then grin at me. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it for you in a jiffy.”
Jiffy?
“Are you two all right?” Perhaps they’re drinking the champagne themselves.
The tall woman giggles. “Um, yes, we’re great. But we can’t give you any champagne.”
I point to the refrigerator. “But…”
“Your room is on the third floor,” the woman in glasses interrupts, pointing to the elevator next to me as if I can’t see it.
The doors open and I step inside. “Please be quick ab…” The doors close.
Great start.
When I get to the room, the door is ajar and music is playing from inside. I double-check the number on my keycard. 301. It’s the correct room, so I push the door open and step inside.
“Hello?”
The volume of the music increases when I round the corner into a suite overlooking the black sea outside. Post-it notes cover the windows and burning candles are everywhere.
What the hell?
Henrik isn’t here. I pluck the first Post-it from the wall next to me and read it out loud to myself. ‘What color are your socks?’ Underneath, he’s drawn a heart. The second note reads, ‘I need to get to know you better before meeting you,’ then, ‘I don’t think you know what love is’ with the following response, ‘I do now.’ The room is carpeted in quotes from our conversations.
On the nightstand is an ice bucket with two bottles of that same champagne from the fridge in the reception.
No wonder they couldn’t keep a straight face when I asked to bring a bottle to the room when two were already waiting for me.
This is romantic. Henrik’s put a lot of thought into it. I’ve never seen him do or plan anything like this for anyone else.
You’re sincere, and actually kind of nice…oh, shut up.
He killed Isac. It doesn’t matter what he does for me, he’s an asshole. This only means that I’m one step closer to my goal, and I won’t let him distract me.
On the bed is a handwritten letter ripped out from a ring binder, the same kind I used in high school with holes in the left margin.
Dear Daniella,
For your Christmas gift, I tried to come up with something you don’t already have but gave up. Or pretended to. Because you don’t have a handwritten letter from me.
Meeting you on Tinder was a coincidence, trying to pick you up was a highly conscious decision, but falling in love with you, I had no control over. (Although I’ve tried to control it ;) You fascinate, please, scare, challenge, enthuse, astound, inspire, stun, move, and satisfy me in ways no one has done before. If I were to bake this package into a pill, it would probably be illegal or extremely expensive to buy.
Since you like it when I show my vulnerable side, I’ve included this drawing of Santa Claus to prove that I’m willing to expose my biggest weakness in life.
I find so much beauty in you, my darling. Your shyness, your charming smile, your stolen looks, your poorly disguised consideration, and attention, the beautiful sounds you make when we make love, how you stiffen when you feel vulnerable, and how you relax next to me. Your sexy self-confidence, and your sweet insecurity makes you so beautiful. I can’t wait to discover even more as we continue our journey together.
You make me happy.
Your Henrik.
PS: I hope you’re not unhappy with this gift. If so, the champagne is also for you ;)
I fold the letter and place it on the bed beside me. This is new to him. I would have known if he had written letters like this to other women. Outside the window, whitecaps churn on the ocean below. I should have brought him a gift.
Behind me, footsteps sound on the carpet.
Henrik is leaning on the doorframe with a smile I would describe as shy at best. “You wanted me vulnerable,” he says.
And you delivered.
To get my mind off his letter, Katelyn, and the mess I’m in, I saunter towards him and kiss him as passionately as I can. “Come here.” I throw him on the bed. His look of insecurity morphs into a playful smirk.
Staring at the white ceiling covered in dark spotlights and exhausted after two orgasms, I turn to Henrik. “When does this New Year’s Eve party begin?”
He gets his phone from the nightstand. When he unlocks the screen, messages from Katelyn appear. Links for one love song after another cover the chat window. I gaze at the ceiling again, pretending I haven’t seen anything.
Did she receive the same letter?
I’m glad I left the phone back home. I’d be hiding in the bathroom to read their messages by now, and that wouldn’t help me win him over. I have to concentrate. It doesn’t matter what Katelyn is doing. I can only control my own actions.
“Shit.” Henrik jumps out of bed.
Scared to ask the wrong question, I lay still, my eyes fixed on one spotlight.
Henrik laughs. “I love how relaxed you are.” He kisses me. “Anyone else would be nagging me to hurry since the party started half an hour ago.”
Had I cared about him, like normal women do in thes
e circumstances, I’d have a stress headache by now, dreading his friends’ approval. But I’m in no mood to meet any of them.
I stretch, wrap the duvet around me, and say in my most seductive voice, “Let’s stay here, have sex all night, and ring in the new year with orgasms and champagne.” I gesture to the two bottles. “We have everything we need right here.”
“I’d love that, but I also want my friends to meet you, so get your cute butt in the shower,” he says, as determined as me when I convince myself a diet is a great choice and that I’ll stick with it for at least a year.
Since Katelyn met them in Bodø when they were here for her surprise, I can’t help but worry she’ll show up at the party.
He opens a bottle and pours me a glass, which I accept only after whipping off the duvet to flash my naked body at him. “I’ll go clean you off me then.”
He’s about to join me as his phone pings again. “Oh, and my friend Simen is dying to meet you.”
The Katelyn supporter?
“Can’t wait.” I strut into the shower. Henrik follows behind.
The party itself is more like a quiet couples dinner with a long table in the middle of the hosts’ living room. I scan the room for Katelyn, but she isn’t there. I can’t shake the unnerving feeling that she’s lurking around. Maybe I’m just paranoid.
The balcony looks out on a panoramic view of the sea and eventually, the fireworks. The sky has cleared and northern lights dance among the stars. Henrik puts his arm around my waist. “The weather gods approve.” He nudges me.
If so, they’re drunk.
Mesmerized by the green light, we watch it together until we’re the last ones standing and join the others at the table.
White strings of light scatter across the ceiling in different patterns, and the table is decorated in silver. I greet his friends and their wives or girlfriends but don’t bother remembering any names. I won’t see them again anyway.
Simen should win a prize for manipulating the images he posts of himself. In real life, he’s chubby, taller than me, loud, and reeks of insecurity from the way he huffs and puffs his words out. He’s also drunk, and because Henrik hasn’t shared details about our sex life, Simen is convinced I’ll talk about it. “I hope your sex drive is as intense as Henrik’s. If not, this will never work.” He spits in my face as he talks.
“I’m not worried.” I turn my back to him, which he does not approve of. He takes my arm and pulls me back around.
“A tip?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “Don’t ask to meet his family. He never introduces any of his girls to them.”
Any of his girls. Trying to scare me off?
“I’m not here for his family.” I grab his hand and rip it off my arm. “I’m here for sex.”
“That won’t be a problem. He’s a sex fiend, that one.” His laughter follows me as I search out Henrik in the crowd. Before I get to him, Frida, Simen’s date, who has been watching my every move, stops me. “You’re Henrik’s new girl.”
New girl. Are any of his friends loyal?
I smile and try to nudge my way past her, but she blocks me, grinning. “I’ve heard he’s good in bed.” Her face turns red as she says this, and I linger on my response.
Ignoring the insanity of this question, is she really asking? Or speaking from experience and she wants me to confirm that he’s good?
“Nah.” I shrug. “Henrik’s okay, but I guess it depends what you’re used to. I’ve had better.”
Her jaw drops. “Oh, really?”
That verifies it. You’ve slept with your boyfriend’s best friend. Great group of people, Henrik. We both pick bad friends.
When the clock approaches twelve, Henrik hands me a glass of champagne, and we join everyone else on the balcony for the countdown. Green light still slithers on the horizon.
I won’t ask him about his relationship with Frida, but I’m keen to see if he tells me about it later. He’s got skeletons in every city, it seems.
“Eight, seven…”
Henrik pulls me close so fast I spill my drink. “Be my girlfriend.” He’s determined this time, no ifs or buts about it.
I can’t say yes, even though it’s a lie, not until you’ve dropped Katelyn.
In a flirty tone, I say, “Ready for a girlfriend?”
He grins. “I’ve been ready for years. Finally I’ve found you.”
“Ask me tomorrow when you’re sober.” I refuse to agree until Katelyn’s out of the picture.
The crowd roars. “…two, one, Happy New Year!” Glittering fireworks color the sky golden.
“Happy New Year.” I lock my lips on Henrik’s.
He pulls back. “I love you.” He searches my face, expecting the words in return.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“I love you too.” I force the words out.
“Really?”
“You think I throw that around for fun?”
“Clearly not. It’s settled then. Tomorrow, you meet my family.”
What?
Although it’s been one of the goals Cecilia and I planned on, I’m not thrilled with the idea of bringing them into this mess. I am, however, excited about finding out if your brother knows that your mother is alive.
But how do I respond?
Seeming too excited about this is out of character for me, as well as a bit intense, and so far he’s responded well to my challenges. “You wouldn’t dare.”
And Simen’s comment to me means I’m even more thrilled. Up yours.
“Ask me again tomorrow, when you’re sober.” He’s unable to hide his laugh.
I chuckle and clink my glass to his. “Happy New Year.”
“What a year this will be.”
You have no idea.
The following day, we check out of the hotel late and drive through Bodø. The city itself is much prettier in daylight than when I arrived in pitch darkness. We cross a small bridge from one island to another for lunch.
Henrik buys two bowls of granola and yogurt, and we sit in the corner of a restaurant, tucked away behind a collection of tall plants. I sit with my back against the wall, and a view of the café and people walking by outside, while Henrik faces me with his back to it all.
“When does the ferry leave?” I never bothered checking.
“Four o’clock.” He stirs his food.
Perfect. If we’d chosen an earlier ferry, I’d be stuck with your family longer. A quick visit gives me less time to lie to them.
My phone rings, but seeing that it’s Victoria again, I hang up. If she’s ready to talk things through, this is not the time.
“We never talk about our lives,” Henrik says, surprising me.
“Sorry?”
“I like it. It’s like our secret bubble, where the normal world doesn’t exist. We don’t discuss work or people we know or problems. We focus on the positive and the present.”
I haven’t thought about it that way before. I’ve chosen to keep real-life issues distant with Henrik because I’ve been terrified of revealing the truth about my hacking skills or Isac’s death. “A vacation from daily life.” I raise my lukewarm latte and stop it midair. Outside the café peering in through the window is Katelyn.
22
Henrik lifts his espresso and clinks it to my mug. “Cheers to our bubble.” When I drink from mine, he sets his down, waits for me to do the same.
Outside, Katelyn recognizes him, then me. Her mouth drops open, and she leans in to get a closer view as if to make sure that it’s us.
She’s asked about me before, so she must have googled me because there’s no doubt in her expression as to who I am. Our eyes meet, and she scowls.
Henrik, oblivious to Katelyn, takes my hand. “I promised more vulnerability, so here goes nothing.” As though gearing up to jump into the freezing water outside, he catapults his words out. “Simen’s girlfriend, Frida. I’ve slept with her.”
Of course you have. Well. Here’s my chance. Accept you with all
your flaws and terrible secrets. Not so easy with your girlfriend now seeming to debate whether to march in and confront us or not.
Katelyn walks toward the door, grabs the door handle.
Shit, she’s coming in.
But she let’s go of the door and steps back instead as if changing her mind. She moves out of my sight.
I lean back, letting go of Henrik’s hand, and scratch the side of my head to lean far enough to get eyes on Katelyn again while answering Henrik’s honest sharing of his sexual encounter. “That’s why Frida hardly spoke a word to me.” I leave out her remarks comparing sex with Henrik.
Especially after me lying about you not being amazing at sex.
Katelyn peers through the window again, and her sad expression, frustration, and disappointment rip like claws at my core. “Thanks for telling me, though. It’s easier to build trust without secrets.”
He studies my face for what feels like an eternity before he kisses me. “No more secrets.”
Katelyn nods to herself, straightens up, and heads back towards the door. Determination is in her walk, expression, and the way she flings the door open.
I stand. “I need the toilet.”
Katelyn stops, and for a second, we stand still, staring at each other.
My pulse is beating so hard I’m scared Henrik will see my body jerk with each beat. I take a step forward, and Katelyn darts out the door. I follow after her.
What the hell am I doing?
I don’t agree with myself, chasing after her, but a big part of me wants to explain, tell her that she’s better off without him. I throw a quick glance back to see if Henrik has noticed Katelyn or is watching me, but he’s got his elbows on the table, focusing on his phone.
Outside, I look in both directions but don’t see her. I check the road bending around the corner of the café but she’s not there either.
He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge Page 16
