Fury, anger, and despair eat away at me.
“You dickhead!” I say, slapping shut the laptop.
I’ve closed it so forcefully that Eric cringes in pain when it hits his leg. He curses.
“Don’t insult me again or—”
“Or what, you stubborn idiot?” Incensed, I throw my phone at his chest. “Or you’ll kick me out of your life? Look, handsome, go fuck yourself!”
Björn stares at me. He tries to signal for me to calm down, but I’m like a hydra, and, grabbing my bag, I storm out of the room. I march to the elevator, and then Björn stops me.
“Where are you going?”
“Far from here. Far from him and far from . . . from . . .”
“Jude . . .”
I stop. What am I doing? Where am I going?
I hug Björn.
“We both know what happened and that there was nothing to it. Now we just have to explain it to your stubborn, deluded husband and my friend and make him understand Laila’s dirty game.”
I let myself be convinced, and, when I return to the room, Eric is more upset than before.
“Laila records us and makes a montage of the recordings, and you believe it? That’s the confidence you have in me, in your wife?”
I place my bag on the bed, and I bump Eric without meaning to.
“You fuck,” I say.
He huffs, and Björn, seeing we’re about to fall into an argument, intervenes.
“The photos are from the day Jude came to the office to sign the papers you wanted her to sign. I invited her to lunch afterward, as I have done with you, with Frida, and with many of my friends. What makes you think it’s anything else?”
Eric doesn’t answer, and Björn gets annoyed.
“We’ve been friends for many years, and I’ve always trusted you one hundred percent. It hurts me that you think I, your friend, am going to play dirty with your wife. Do you think I’m going to spoil our friendship over a fuck with Judith?” His voice is angry. “I’ll remind you, my friend, that it’s you who offers me your wife and who enjoys what we three do. The three of us! And yes, I love it. I like Judith. I told you the first time you introduced her to me and every time you’ve ever brought it up. But I also told you that you’re made for each other and shouldn’t let anything or anyone get in your way. You’re both very important to me. You, because you’re like my brother, and her, because she’s your love and a good person. I love you both, and it hurts me to know you doubt me.”
Eric doesn’t respond. But he listens.
“Our friendship is special. I’ve only touched your wife when you’ve allowed it. When have I failed you in something like that? When have you ever had to reproach me, or I you, for playing dirty? If before, when you weren’t married, I always respected you, why would I not respect you now? Does what a stupid girl like Laila says matter more than what Jude or I say?”
Eric looks at him. His words hurt, but Björn keeps going.
“You’re smart enough to know who loves you and who doesn’t. If you decide Jude and I are lying, you’re going to come out losing, my friend, because if anyone loves you and respects you in this world, it’s her and me. And to clear up this mess, I want you to know Norbert is bringing Laila here, to the hospital. She’ll be in a tizzy, but I want her to tell the truth in front of Jude, you, and me once and for all.”
Then Björn turns to me.
“I’ll be right outside.”
He leaves us alone. The words came straight from his heart, and I know Eric knows. Sullen, he closes his eyes, and I see him shake his head.
“That’s the truth. Laila played us all,” I say.
Eric looks at me.
“You know Björn and I would never fail you. Why are you questioning it? Have you not realized I love you more than my life, and he does too?” Again, he keeps his silence. “I’ll tell you something you don’t know and that Laila surely hasn’t told you. And then I’ll leave and let you think about it. You trust her because she was Hannah’s friend, right?”
He nods.
“Well, I want you to know that, while you suffered for what happened to your sister, that woman had a great time with Leonard.”
“What?”
“Did you know Leonard lived in the same building as Björn?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Björn caught them in the garage, entertaining themselves in the backseat of a Mercedes you had loaned her, just a week after Hannah died.”
Eric is floored.
“When he caught them, he had strong words with her and told her she either disappeared from your life or he told you about it. Laila decided to disappear, but trying to get ahead of him, she told Simona and Norbert that Björn had tried to make a forceful pass at her and ripped her dress. Simona went to Björn to ask for an explanation, and, luckily for him, there are cameras in his garage. The whole scene was on tape so he could show Simona who was really with Laila and who’d ripped her dress.”
“I . . . I didn’t know that . . .”
“You didn’t know because Norbert, Simona, and Björn decided to keep the secret. They didn’t want you to suffer more than you were already suffering from Hannah’s death. But now Laila wants to take revenge on Björn by recording him with me. He took her away from you, and so she tries to take us away from you.”
He’s speechless. At that moment, the door opens, and Björn, Norbert, and Laila come in.
When I see her, I walk right up to her and smack her across the face. She tries to smack me back, but Björn restrains her.
“Let’s see whose beautiful life is falling apart now,” I hiss.
Eric watches us from the bed. His expression is indecipherable. When Björn tries to put his good lawyerly skills to work to make her talk, she attempts to slip away, but, pressed and cornered, in the end she confesses to everything. Amazed, Eric listens, and, when Laila finally leaves with Björn and Norbert, he curses. He’s bewildered, furious, and hurt.
Eager to hug him, I take a step forward, but he slows me down with a gesture. That baffles me. He doesn’t want me near him. For a few minutes, I look at him in silence, waiting for a sign, a signal, anything! But he doesn’t look at me.
Damned dickhead!
I wait and despair. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“A few weeks ago, when I found out you were coming to London and I got jealous about Amanda, you made me see I shouldn’t worry, because you loved and wanted only me. I believed you and trusted you. Now we just need you to believe us and, above all, trust me.”
Silence . . .
Nothing . . .
He doesn’t look at me. I’m nervous and sad, and I decide to risk everything.
“I have a tattoo that says ‘Tell me what you want.’ I did it for you. I have a ring on my finger that you gave me that says ‘Tell me what you want, now and forever.’” But he still avoids my gaze. “I love you; I adore you. You know I’d turn the world upside down for you, but now I’m confused. You don’t want to be hugged, and I feel terrible because you won’t even look at me. I’m going to put everything on the line and say this just once: tell me what you want or leave me.” My voice breaks when he says nothing. “I’m leaving. I’ll let you think. If you want me back because you love and need me, you know my number.”
I grab my bag, turn, and leave the room, not looking back.
Björn is outside, sitting in one of the chairs. Seeing the state I’m in, he gets up and hugs me.
I need air . . .
Tears flow again.
“Easy, Judith,” Björn whispers.
“I can’t. I can’t . . .”
He nods. He tries to comfort me.
“And his eyes? Have you seen his eyes?”
“Yes,” he responds, and I know he’s worried too. He tries to distract me. “The leg, that’s just a simple fracture. One of the nurses just explained it to me.”
I cry and hiccup.
“No . . . no . . . He didn’t let me hold him.
He won’t look at me. He hasn’t said a word.”
Björn curses.
“Eric isn’t stupid, and he loves you.”
I shake my head. What if he really doesn’t love me?
Björn seems to read my thoughts. He holds my face with his hands.
“He loves you. I know that’s the way it is. You just have to see how he looks at you to know my foolish friend can’t live without you.”
“He’s a dickhead.”
We both grin.
“A crazy dickhead who loves you madly. I hope someday I find a woman as crazy, loving, and fun as you to make me feel what you make him feel.”
“You’ll find her, Björn. You’ll find her, and then you’ll complain about her like Eric does about me.” We both grin again. “Thank you for forcing Laila to clear everything up.”
My good friend nods.
“Where’s Norbert?”
“He went with his niece. He wanted to talk with her.”
Poor man. This is all so awful for him.
“C’mon, let’s get something to eat,” Björn says. “You need it.”
But I don’t want to eat. My heart is broken.
“I want to go home.”
“What?”
“I want to go back to Germany,” I say. “I told him to decide what he wants to do with our relationship and to call me with whatever he decides.”
“What are you saying?” says Björn. “Now you’ve gone crazy too? How are you going to leave?”
I swallow the knot of emotions in my throat.
“I laid everything out for him, Björn. I told him to tell me what he wants or let me go. Now I just need to wait. I don’t want to overwhelm him. I want him to decide what he wants to do.”
My good friend tries to convince me not to leave, but I refuse. I’m tired, very tired, and I’m not feeling well. The coldness of my husband and his rejection have touched my heart deeply.
In the end, Björn gives up, and we take the elevator. When we reach the lobby and are about to leave the hospital, we hear shouting and a fuss. When I turn to look, I’m speechless. I see Eric struggling with two nurses.
“Jude . . . wait. Jude!” he shouts.
My heart races.
The Iceman is in total pissed-off mode, dressed in that ridiculous hospital gown, letting loose with myriad expletives while trying to break free from two nurses who look like professional wrestlers.
I can’t move.
“From what I can tell, Eric has decided what he wants,” Björn says.
My crazy love suddenly sees me looking at him and, raising a hand, shouts at me not to move from where I am. Then he shakes off the nurses and drags himself, including the leg in the cast, over to us.
“I called you, darling,” he says, showing me my cell. “I called you, but you’d left your phone in my room.”
My heart is beating out of my chest.
Again my love, my Iceman, shows me he loves me.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart . . . I’m sorry.”
I don’t move . . . I can’t speak . . .
Eric tenses up. He’s nervous. He wants me to say something.
“I’m a dickhead,” he says.
“You are, my friend. You are,” says Björn.
My guy extends his hand to his good friend, and, moments later, they embrace.
“I’m sorry, Björn. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re forgiven, dickhead,” says Björn.
They both smile.
They let go, and the nurses come to get Eric. They ask him to get back to his room. He shouldn’t be there in the hallway in his condition.
Everyone in the hospital lobby is watching us. This is surreal. There’s this guy wearing a hospital gown that reveals more than it covers struggling with the nurses and staring at me.
“I love you. Say something, sweetheart,” he says, those fiery eyes on me.
But I can’t and he insists.
“I’m not going to leave you, sweetheart. You’re my life, the woman I want, and I need you to forgive me for having been—”
“Such a dickhead,” I say, finishing his sentence.
Eric nods. I see in his eyes he needs me to embrace him. But I don’t. I’m so paralyzed I can’t even blink. Then he presses a button on my cell, and we hear a ringtone. “Si Nos Dejan.”
“I promised you I’d take care of you all my life, and I intend to do that,” he says.
It’s almost like we’re daring each other . . .
But eager to hug him because of what he’s just done and said, I take a step forward.
“First, let it be clear to you that, for me to leave you and want to live without you, something very . . . very . . . very bad has to happen. Second, I still want you to take care of me, but never again doubt me or Björn. And third, what are you doing showing your ass to the whole hospital, my love?”
We all laugh.
When I throw myself in his arms and feel him hugging me, I close my eyes, and I’m happy. People clap, and Björn walks behind his friend and whispers.
“Let’s go back to your room so you can stop showing off your ass.”
My tears wet Eric’s chest, and he squeezes me against him. “C’mon . . . Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.”
But I’m so excited . . .
So happy . . .
And so worried about him . . .
I cry and laugh uncontrollably.
Five minutes later, accompanied by Björn and the nurses, we’re back in his room. Eric had ripped off his IV, and they have to reconnect it. The nurses scold him. He won’t stop looking at me and smiling.
I’m the only thing he cares about!
Seeing everything is in order, Björn goes down to the cafeteria for some food. He insists I have to eat something, and, quickly, Eric supports him. Those two!
When we’re alone in the room, Eric asks me to lie beside him on the bed. I do. He hugs me.
“Are you OK?” I ask.
“I’ve been better, but I’ll recover.”
His eyes scare me. I can’t stop looking at them.
“Don’t worry. They’ll heal.”
“Does your head hurt?”
He nods.
“But everything is under control.” He smiles and runs his hand down my chin.
“As you say, I love you more than life itself.”
I go to kiss his mouth, and he winces in pain. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m more sorry, sweetheart. Not being able to kiss you is torture.”
He hugs me again.
“Despite how sinister those vampire eyes make you look, you’re still the most handsome, sexy dickhead in the world. And now that half the hospital and beyond has seen your ass, I know I’m the most envied woman ever.”
He smiles, and his smile fills my soul.
“God, sweetheart . . . Forgive me for not trusting you. I love you so much that when I saw those damned images, I lost my mind.”
“You are forgiven. I hope it doesn’t happen again.”
“It won’t. I promise.”
“Ah, and by the way, it was Amanda who called me. You were right; she respects me.”
Finally ready to tell him what I’ve been hiding from the rest of the world for several days, I try to sit up.
“I have something to tell you, but you have to let go first.”
Eric looks at me and makes a fuss.
“Tell me later. Now I want to keep holding you.”
I laugh and squirm.
“OK, but when I tell you, you’ll regret not having known before.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
He’s curious now and kisses my head.
“It’s a good thing, right?”
“I think so, although given what we just went through, I don’t know how you’re going to take it!”
“Don’t scare me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
“Jude
. . .”
I shrug. I love the warmth of his body. And his voice in my ear even more. He runs his fingers through my hair. Oh God, that feels so good! Two minutes later, he can’t take it anymore and lets go.
“C’mon. I want to know.”
I’m gentle with him, but I get up from the bed and go get my bag. My news is going to drive him crazy. I open my purse, take out a bulging envelope, and show it to him. Eric looks at it and raises an eyebrow. I tell him to wait and take off the handkerchief around my neck.
“Look.”
Seeing my neck red and almost raw, he sits up in alarm.
“Sweetheart, what’s happened to you?”
“My rash. My nerves have done me in.”
Open-mouthed, he looks at me again and frowns.
“It’s my fault.”
“In part, yes.” I nod. “You know what happens to me when I get nervous.” I hand him the bulky envelope. “Open it.”
When he does, the four pregnancy tests fall on the bed.
Surprised, and not knowing what to say, he looks at me. I show him the photo the gynecologist gave me.
“Congratulations, Mr. Zimmerman. You’re going to be a dad.”
He’s stunned. He doesn’t react.
“Yes, get ready because since I found out about Medusa—”
“Medusa?”
“That’s what I call her,” I reply, pointing to the image in the photo.
He doesn’t quite follow and tries to get up. Where does he think he’s going?
I stop him. He can’t mess with the IV again, or the nurses will kill us.
“Since I’ve known about Medusa, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I’m in such a terrible mood—you don’t want to know. I’m scared. Very scared! I’m going to be a mom, and I’m not ready.”
We look at each other. I smile and grab his arms again. He hugs me so tight.
“Baby . . . honey, you’re suffocating me.”
He lets go of me, kisses me, and cringes in pain. He hugs me again. He looks at me, then at the tests.
“We’re going to have a baby?” he asks, his voice trembling.
“It seems so.”
“A little dark-haired girl?”
“Or a blonde?”
He just stares at me again.
For a while, Eric doesn’t let me go, and together we look at the ultrasound and rejoice.
“Sweetheart, are you OK?”
His joy is my joy.
Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me Page 23
