“We’re not letting Felix Poulsen escape like this. He’s one of our best coders. Esther, make him an offer he can’t refuse. There’s no way in hell I’m allowing Howard Kincaid to steal another one of our top talents,” he says.
“Rough start to the day,” I say, softly enough not to disturb him.
“This is un-freaking-believable. How can anyone be this much of a manipulative asshole?” Ouch. “What you do you mean Felix has already left our Copenhagen office? Why am I learning about this now? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
Yikes. This doesn’t sound too good.
I tiptoe away from Nikolaj’s office to let him deal with his crisis and I decide to whip up a breakfast that will make us forget this unpleasant morning. I’ll prepare a batch of French pancakes. “They might not make up for Howard’s sins, but it will be close.”
I’ve barely taken two steps when the apartment phone rings. I run to the living room and freeze when I see the number flashing on the screen. Shit. Should I pick up or do I let it go to voicemail? I dance from one foot to the other, biting the inside of my left cheek, trying to figure out which way to go. If I don’t answer my soon-to-be mother-in-law she’ll only end up bombarding my cell phone with text messages and leaving an obscene number of voicemails. And then when she still doesn’t hear back from me she’ll barrage my fiancé with questions on my whereabouts.
I pick up. “Good morning, Nicoline. How are you doing?”
“My lovely Ciara, it’s good to hear your voice. I was worried I was calling too early. I’m always concerned I’ll dial at the wrong time.”
“Not at all. It’s the same time in Paris as it is in Copenhagen. Nikolaj has been up for a while and he’s currently on a conference call. I was just heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for both of us.”
“How was your trip to Germany?”
“It was a very productive week, but I’m very happy to be back in Paris.”
“Of course. The French capital is such a beautiful city.”
“That it is, but I’m mostly happy to be with Nikolaj again. I hate being away from him.”
“The two of you have wonderful love story. I can’t wait for you to become an integral part of our family.”
“You’ve been so supportive, Nicoline.”
“Thank you, dear. I just wish all my children could be this happy…” Oh, no. Here we go again. She lets the words hang, but we both know she still longs to have Jakob and her grandson as part of her family. Unfortunately for her, Nikolaj’s eldest brother is a criminal and a lost cause. “Don’t mind me. I’m just being emotional, like always. I’d hate to put a damper on the preparations towards your big day. Can you believe it’s only a few months away?”
“I know. Nikolaj and I are both looking forward to tying the knot.”
Talking of which, I should really get back to Tanner after this call.
“Well, that’s exactly why I’m calling so early in the morning. I’ve got some incredible news about the Copenhagen wedding.”
Please, not before coffee.
“You do?” I hope she can’t detect my fake enthusiasm.
When Nikolaj first suggested a Copenhagen and a New York wedding, I thought it was a great idea since we both have large extended families. Unfortunately, it’s been a nightmare. Planning one wedding is stressful enough, but two has me going mental.
Nikolaj immediately enlisted the help of his mother, hoping our big day would help her focus on something other than the fact she might never see her eldest son again. Jakob cowardly fled to Sweden with his new wife. He might not have been incarcerated for what he’s done, but Nikolaj’s dad has been pretty clear—he strictly forbids any member of his family from contacting the son he disowned.
In theory, recruiting Nikolaj’s mother was a brilliant plan. The execution has been messy at best. Don’t get me wrong, Nikolaj’s mom is a lovely woman and I have a far better relationship with her than I ever had with my ex-monster-in-law, the mother of my ex-fiancé, Luke. I’m sure Nicoline is coming from the heart, but she’s hijacked my wedding and I’m not certain how to ask her to back off without ruffling her feathers or hurting her feelings.
Things were horrible with Luke’s mom and it’s been playing at the back of my mind. It’s caused me to bottle up all of my emotions about Nicoline’s level of involvement and the fact that I can’t stand Anton Schmidt, the bitchy wedding planner she hired to help plan two weddings on two different continents.
I’ve kept quiet because I don’t want to say anything to jeopardize things between my soon-to-be mother-in-law and I. When it comes to all this wedding stuff, I’ve been pretending I’m not completely overwhelmed by it all and Nikolaj has been avoiding the subject at any cost. He’s always quick to remind me he wants me to have the fairytale day of my dreams and that all of these details are far more important to a woman than they are to a man.
“Anton and I have found the perfect location. It took a while to find this gem of a place, but I know we struck gold this time.”
“What was wrong with the last location we picked out a month ago?” I phrase the question very carefully.
“Anton didn’t get along with the management there.”
For God’s sake. This is the third venue in three months.
“They weren’t willing to bend over to accommodate every one of our needs.”
“But the list we gave them was straightforward. I didn’t have any outlandish requests.”
“My son is a very prominent figure in Copenhagen and his incredible success has had everyone waiting for this day, Ciara. You can imagine that after so many years of dodging the bullet, everyone who’s anyone in the city wants to see the lucky girl who stole his heart with their own two eyes. He’s finally willing to commit and that’s very big news here. I want your wedding to reflect that and the other location just wasn’t on par. They just didn’t get it.”
“Oh, but the other location was perfect,” I lament.
I really would’ve loved to see this new location before Anton made a final decision on it. It’s my wedding, not his.
“Don’t worry. Anton has a great working relationship with this new venue.” Yeah, until his temper flares up like it does every time he gets his knickers in a bunch. “Trust me, your wedding day will become the standard for all European brides to live up to.” She’s full of pride, but she always is when she talks about my wedding.
I just want to marry Nik. I don’t want to make history.
“What if I don’t like it?”
“You’re going to love it.” I’ve heard that before. “Anton has already been working on the cake, the music and the menu for the evening. You’ll barely have to lift a finger.” I can almost see her beaming on the other end of the phone.
“Oh, really?”
“He’s very quick on his feet. He’s truly the consummate professional.”
Sure.
“He even found the perfect dress for you.”
Oh, no, he didn’t.
“Wh-what?” I bring my fingers to my temple, massaging the onset of a burgeoning headache. “I was working on finding my own dress. After all, I’ll be the one wearing it.”
She’s got to stop taking over like this.
Nicoline’s pushiness comes from a very different place than Patty Mae Rutherford’s. Luke’s mom was plain mean, whereas Nikolaj’s mom is trying to save face in the light of the loss of her eldest son and the fact she may never be able to have a relationship with her grandson. I’m sure it must be a struggle to hold her head up high in public, even if Nikolaj’s dad has done his best to keep this whole saga as quiet as possible. Nevertheless, I find myself tiptoeing once more around a woman who will have a big influence in my married life.
“Anton has such a great eye for fashion and I believe he has a very good sense of your impeccable style. He took me to see the dress yesterday morning and when I first caught a glimpse of it—” She gasps dramatically. “Let’s just say it has your
name written all over it.” Please, God, make it stop. “And did I tell you about the incredible wedding favors Anton found in this adorable little shop downtown?”
That’s it. I’ve had enough.
“Mrs. von Henningsen—” For some reason, when she inundates me with so many details all at once, I always revert to calling her by her formal name. I guess it’s my way of taking a step back and giving myself the room I need to breathe.
“Ciara, it’s Nicoline,” she cuts in. “We’re family.”
“Nicoline, but—”
“But nothing. I know you’re a busy go-getter. Since you and my son are building your impressive business empires, it’s only fitting for your soon-to-be mother-in-law to jump in to help.”
“I appreciate it. I really do.” I wimp out of telling her exactly how I feel. I much prefer to remain in her good graces. “It was a pleasure talking to you, as always, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to run or else I’ll end up being late for an important meeting I have in the city. And you know how traffic can be in Paris during rush hour,” I lie.
“Of course. I totally understand. I’m sure I’ve already taken up way too much of your time. Will I see you in a couple of weeks when my son comes to visit?”
“I won’t be able to make it. My fiancé is running away from home because my sister and my best friend will be in town. He doesn’t want to be outnumbered.” I fake a smile even though I know she can’t see it. I omit telling her that Sofia and Harley are coming to help me shop for my wedding dress.
“You’re so funny. Good one. Thank God for technology because Anton can email you links and he can scan whichever photos he finds in wedding magazines for your approval.”
“Indeed. Thank God for technology,” I say between gritted teeth.
I hang up the phone and collapse on the couch. Jesus, that conversation was draining. I plop my legs on the coffee table, tilt my head back and close my eyes. How do I make this stop? I’m not shy by any means and I’m never afraid to stand my ground, but I’m at a loss here. I breathe in and out to make my anxiety subside, but my stomach is a ball of nerves. It would be amazing if shutting out the world for a few minutes was all it took to make all of this go away, but when I reopen my eyes I’ll still have to deal with Tanner, Anton and Nicoline.
“Harl’s right. I should elope to Vegas.”
I’m going to lose my mind if I have to do this for another ten weeks.
This isn’t going to be an easy conversation, but I need to speak to Nikolaj.
* * *
After hanging up with Nicoline I decide crêpes won’t do. As delicious as those thin French pancakes are, they don’t cut it when it comes to delivering bad news. I need heavier ammunition. I prepare a breakfast that will leave Nikolaj so utterly satisfied he’ll be too full and too contented to protest when I tell him we need to discuss this wedding.
Pastries aren’t my forte. As much as I can cook a chicken a thousand ways, I tend to shy away from the intricacies of baking. That said, I make some pretty amazing Belgian waffles. I whip up a batch and as I let the batter rest, I turn my attention to the pièce de résistance—berries flambéed in cognac. For good measure, I prepare a bowl of whipped cream infused with lavender. I need all the help I can get.
Since you’ve got to give a man a little meat to keep him happy, I pull out from the fridge the closest I can find to bacon when I’m living on this side of the Atlantic. The French haven’t yet embraced the goodness of bacon so I have to use their lardons as a substitute. I turn up the heat on the stove and drop in a few strips of smoked pork. While the bacon is cooking, I fire up the waffle maker. I pour one heaping spoonful into the waffle maker and close the lid. The different aromas commingle and I’m sure it won’t be long before they tempt my fiancé’s tummy.
I’m nearly done. I look around and I’m very pleased with myself. This should get him to listen. Everything is coming along nicely. I place the bacon and the first four golden waffles on a serving plate before pouring another spoonful of batter into the waffle maker. Nikolaj must be famished if my own stomach is growling this much. I’m just about to get the coffee started when Nik pokes his nose in the kitchen.
“I haven’t got a clue what you’re cooking, but whatever it is, I’m for sure getting a second serving.”
“I thought the smell would eventually force you out of that office.” I grin.
“Good call. I didn’t even have time for coffee before the shit hit the fan.”
“Rough start to your day? I overheard while I was walking by your office.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll ruin my time with you.”
“I’m sure I have the perfect breakfast to take your troubles away.”
“It’s a commendable effort, but let’s just say that looking at you now, food is the least of my concerns.” He takes a few steps towards me. “I love your hair wild and curly, but when you sleek it like this, it drives me crazy,” he says, caressing my mane with the back of his hand. “How on earth did I ever get this lucky?” He leans in and claims my lips and I get on my toes to kiss him deeper.
I can never get enough of these intimate moments we share.
“You’re full of compliments this morning.”
“I never tire of praising your beauty, love.”
“Stop it.” I blush, gently pushing him away. “The food is ready.” I change subject before this turns into something raunchy and I totally forget to bring up everything that’s been bothering me about the weddings.
“Seriously, I can’t believe you have the energy to do all this,” he says, surveying the room. “Didn’t I wear you out last night by fucking the hell out of you and giving you three orgasms?”
“You’re too funny.” I grin, walking to the oven to check on the food I’m warming up. “Trust me, you did work me hard and I could barely get out of bed this morning, but we do have to eat.” I beam.
“Yeah, but we could’ve had a few quick croissants and coffee and called it a day, but you’re preparing brunch.” He takes a few steps towards me and slams his muscular body against my back before sliding his hands around my waist. Instinctively I exhale, tilt my head back and rest it against his strong chest.
“You’re exaggerating,” I say, turning my head to the side. I roll my eyes and force a smile. There’s no going back now. I have to talk to him. “Take a seat and I’ll serve you some waffles.”
“Waffles in the middle of the week?” His eyes widen. “Ciara, what’s going on?”
“You say that as if it’s a crime to indulge on a weekday.” I shrug.
He takes a few steps back, grabs a hold of my shoulders and forces me to turn around and face him. Nikolaj eyes me, blinking as he contemplates my semi-lie. I try my best to keep my face impassive so that he can’t see how troubled I am and how I’m desperately trying to soften the blow I’m about to deliver about his mom.
“How long have we been living together, Ciara?”
His question catches me by surprise. “Since you proposed on Christmas Eve.”
“And how many months would that be, love?”
“Six months,” I answer, puzzled as to where he’s going with this.
He tilts his head to the side and raises his left eyebrow. “Don’t you think in that length of time I’d come to know my fiancée pretty well?”
“Nik,” I start, still too uncertain to continue.
“What’s up, love? What aren’t you telling me?”
Damn him for knowing me so well.
“Nothing,” I answer, averting my gaze by focusing on the ceiling.
“It must a big deal if you’re avoiding making eye contact with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I was hoping to wait until I had fed him before laying my burden at his feet.
“We don’t keep things from each other, remember?”
I hold his gaze for a few beats before lowering my eyes to the floor. “Do you really want to hear this?”<
br />
“Of course, or else I wouldn’t ask. Anything related to you, to us,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine, “I want to hear about.”
I hesitate, bouncing my eyes from his chin to my fidgeting fingers. “I can’t deal with the wedding preparations,” I blurt out in one breath.
Once I’ve mustered up the courage to meet his stare, I’m tormented by what I see. His electric-blue eyes have turned dark and they’re searing me in place. He takes a few steps back and shoots an icy stare my way. “What the fuck are you talking about, Ciara?” His jaw is granite and his eyes are steel. “You want to call off the wedding? What changed since last night?” He looks so hurt right now I hate myself for bringing this up, but I’m drowning here. A myriad of emotions flit across Nikolaj’s face as he struggles to regain his footing.
I shake my head vehemently. “That’s not what I said. The United States Army charging through the Afghan desert in search of the bad guys couldn’t hold me back, Nik. I want to be your wife more than anything else. I just can’t do all the stuff related to us getting there anymore.” I sigh and drop my shoulders.
“Does any of this have to do with my mother?”
I nod.
“Was she the one who called this morning?”
I nod again and I fold my lower lip inside my mouth, feeling somewhat guilty for opening this can of worms.
He rubs the back of his neck. He’s obviously taken aback by what was weighing on me so heavily. A long silence stretches between us. “I’m already having a very stressful morning thanks to Howard Kincaid, our arch-nemesis and bona fide asshole, and I’m not certain I’m prepared to hear any of this, to be perfectly frank with you, but what I read in your eyes troubles me.”
“I didn’t realize getting married would be this much work.”
“I thought enlisting my mom would alleviate some of the stress, but I see I was wrong. Why don’t you tell me what’s causing this veil of worry covering your beautiful deep brown eyes.”
Always & Forever Page 7
