Maybe Forever (Maybe... Book 3) Read online

  That night, we hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on our door and we made love until our bodies were sore and too sensitive... and still we wanted more. I remember how we tried to be quiet whenever someone passed our room. I'd bite my lip and try to hold in the brazen longing, Mads buried his face in my neck as his fingers dug into my hips and held me still. The brass bed squeaked and groaned with each thrust... and all I knew was that my body screamed out to be touched and stroked and penetrated. His hair was longer then, and I remember how I raked my fingers through those red-gold strands and gripped him and we kept our eyes locked on one another... I came so hard, and a few minutes later so did he...and when afterwards I twined my arms around him and he was murmuring to me in Danish that being inside of me was like coming home, I had this sensation that something monumental had just happened... I wasn't sure what, but I remembered how my body felt so attuned to Mads's and how I almost felt like I could read his thoughts. My body was singing, I love you, I love every inch of you, I love you...and his body responded in kind.

  Two months later, I found out I was pregnant.

  * * *

  Later, when we were home again, I paid Peyton and thanked her for taking such good care of Liv, who was at the kitchen table drawing a picture of what looked like sunflowers. Freya had fallen asleep on the way home. Apparently baby yoga had proved tiring for her, so I let her nap. I took her into my bedroom and laid her down on the bed. I sat down beside her and rubbed her back as she slept. My sleeping angel. Aunt Cecily was right...we needed that yoga class. And tomorrow...we'd go again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Mads

  Wisdom in a Glass

  After work, Jonas and Morten convinced me to grab a beer or two with them and they pried it out of me—the situation with Laney and me. We'd started the evening at Kalaset, a café near the workshop. We'd said we'd only duck in and have a beer and a sandwich but once we started talking, one beer became two and two led to three.

  "You think she's going to divorce you?" Jonas wondered as we each nursed our third beer. He scratched the top of his shaved head. "That would fucking suck, Mads. You've got this perfect life and you're about to lose it because of our collective?"

  "I hope we're not anywhere near a divorce," I retorted, but what did I know? The few times I'd actually managed to talk to Laney, she made sure our conversations were brief and focused mostly on the girls. We'd been apart now for close to three weeks, and I didn't know what to think anymore. "But I need to figure it out. I don't want a divorce. I want us to work out the problems."

  "Does Benny have anything to do with this?" Morten drained his glass.

  "A little, yeah..."

  "You're not fucking around with her, are you? Why would you even want to when you've already got such a sexy wife?" Morten demanded.

  "I'm not fucking Benny," I clarified. "I think she wants it, but I am not going there. I love Laney. She's the only one I want."

  "Good," Jonas said. "Otherwise I would have beaten the shit out of you. I like Laney a hell of a lot. Hell, I remember the first time she came by the workshop, I was all set to charm her and then I saw she only had eyes for you."

  "So wait—if nothing's on with you and Benny, why does Laney think there is?"

  "Benny kissed me on the night we signed the contracts for the hotel renovation. And then she kissed me again a couple of weeks ago. I turned her down. It's been pretty awkward, to say the least."

  "This calls for another round," Jonas decided. He took care of ordering another round of pints.

  "Dude, she knows you're married. She needs to step back." Morten looked more disturbed than anything else. "She was asking me all these questions about you a couple of weeks ago, but I thought it was just curiosity since we all work so closely. I didn't think she was going to start making a play for you."

  "I don't think we can keep her on," I said. "It doesn't matter how good a designer or woodworker she is, she can't work with us and think it's okay to make a pass at me, or any of us for that matter."

  Jonas returned with our beers. Morten drank his too quickly and then lurched outside for a cigarette. I remember following him and then the tight expression on his face and his hunched shoulders told me there was more going on. And then it came out—he was sleeping with Benny and had been for several weeks.

  "She came to my place on Saturday night—so that must have been a couple hours after she asked you to go out for that beer..."

  I lit a cigarette and listened as he let it out.

  "She showed up at my place, she was already a little drunk and she was saying how some married guy was hot for her and she knew it and that it turned her on... fuck... all that time she was talking about you. I thought was talking about Anton, but I kept thinking he didn't even act like he liked having her around."

  "I'm not hot for her. She's attractive—it's not like I haven't noticed that. And yeah, I looked, but it's difficult to ignore her but...I'm not interested in her."

  "You think she's going to cause problems at the shop?"

  "I don't know. I hope not, but Laney..."

  "You tell her Benny kissed you a second time?"

  I shook my head. "I think I should, though. I don't like keeping secrets from her."

  "It might make things worse."

  "How much worse can it get? My wife left me. She took my daughters with her. I miss them like crazy..."

  "You might lose her for good." Morten took one last drag from his cigarette and then squashed it out. "But you know Laney better than I do."

  At some point we left Kalaset and wandered across Fredensbro into Nørrebro. We'd tried to get a table outside at Nørrebro Brygghus but it was too crowded. We moved on then towards Fredriksberg and convinced Henrik and Eddy to meet us at Von Fressen, a German-inspired bar and restaurant not far from their apartment. Jonas and Morten were a good buffer, since Eddy was giving me the cold shoulder. I hadn't seen her in a couple of days and I could tell she'd talked to Laney in that time. At one point, she quipped at me, "Have you figured out where your wife is yet?"

  I shook my head. "I'm going to call her tomorrow. We can't keep on like this."

  "Have you tried asking her?"

  "Of course I have! She won't tell me."

  "Don't be so fucking clueless, Mads—where the hell do you think she is if she's in the US?"

  "I don't know! OK? She could be anywhere—"

  "She's with my mother! Okay? I can't believe you didn't figure that out...my mom's the only person she would go to there. How many times has she told you my mother is like her mother for Laney?"

  Then she snatched my phone from me and tapped in her mother's number. "Use it tomorrow," she said. "And stop being so goddamn thick. My god! What is wrong with you Scandinavian men?"

  I woke feeling as though someone had sucked all the moisture out of my brain. For a minute the whole room spun. I closed my eyes again and breathed in and out slowly. Fuck...I was too old for this. When I opened my eyes again the world had decided to cooperate and stop spinning so much. But my mouth tasted sour and sticky. I pushed myself into a sitting position and blinked against the blinding sunlight streaming into the room.

  This wasn't my bed. I still had all my clothes on... Shit...where was I? I tried to retrace my steps...

  Drinks with Morten and Jonas...meeting Henrik and Eddy...

  Right...I was at their place. I didn't remember much else. I think we had plenty more to drink. I was drowning my sorrows, Henrik took pity on me and let me sleep in their guest room. I didn't remember coming here. I probably became maudlin at some point in the evening. I managed to get out of bed and take a shower. Henrik left a clean T-shirt and boxer shorts on the bed. Which was good. Yesterday's shirt reeked of sweat and cigarette smoke. I would be glad when this heat wave ended. Even if the heat reminded me of that first time I met Laney...it always did... the heat, the humidity...the tiny beads of perspiration slowly sliding down her back...and that night in the hotel. Everything that was good in my life...it all star
ted that night. And Laney...she was the one who gave it to me. And that's when it all clicked for me. Going to Milan? I couldn't do it. And I couldn't wait for Laney to tell me when she was ready for me to come to her. The longer I waited, the more time we left it, the further apart we'd grow. I couldn't leave this to chance.

  I arrived early, unable to deal with the silence at home, but now at the workshop something felt off-kilter. Jonas and Morten weren't there yet—maybe they were still the worse for wear. They usually arrived first with takeaway coffee and read the newspaper at their conference table before starting the day. Benny was usually there too, but I was glad not to see her. After everything Morten had told me, I knew we were going to have to have an uncomfortable conversation, and I was hoping Anton would help me with it. The only person in the workspace besides me was Willem, who didn't look up from the prototype he was working on. His shoulders were hunched as he planed the wood. Further in the workshop, Anton was bending strips of wood. He'd designed a basket weave back for a chair and was testing which types of wood would best suit it. I nodded hello at him as I headed to the office. I sat down at the desk Anton and I shared and then checked my email. None of it was very interesting until I came upon one from a place called Namaste with the subject line "Compliments of Cecily.”

  Cecily...? Then it clicked for me—Laney's aunt. I opened the message and there was a picture attached of Laney and the girls sitting on a striped beach blanket. In the background a terracotta lighthouse stood out against the blue sky. Laney was sitting cross-legged with Liv and Freya on her lap. Freya was peering up at Laney while Liv pointed at whomever had taken the photo and was laughing. My girls... I touched the screen, wishing I could reach through it and trail my fingers along the fine slope of Laney's cheek.

  "I thought you should know they're safe and sound, here in Juno Beach, Florida, with me. They miss you, Mads. And they are here for you—but you need to show them you deserve them." The rest of the message was just as direct—Cecily gave me her address and telephone number and then signed off with "I know you love my niece. I'm counting on you to do good by her."

  I swallowed hard then looked down at my hands. My wedding band was askew, revealing a pale strip of skin. On Saturday it would be four years...and I was supposed to be in Milan. Christ, what was I thinking?

  When I looked up, Anton was in the doorway, shaking sawdust out of his dark, curly hair.

  "I'm not going to Milan," I said. "I think you should go instead."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I know where Laney is now...so I'm going there."

  "I was wondering when you'd finally come to your senses." Anton strode into the room and then sat on the edge of the desk. "Did she ask you to come?"

  "No...I'm not waiting for that. I don't want to be without her. And it's our anniversary on Saturday...I can’t fucking believe I was going to go to Milan instead of celebrating it with her. What the fuck is wrong with me?" I cradled my face in my hands. "I'm an idiot..."

  Anton didn't contradict me. "You want me to go instead?"

  "Yeah, as long as Ingrid's okay with it."

  "You should book your ticket, then...if you're going to America."

  "We can tell everyone after the meeting."

  The meeting with Ole and his minions went as well as could be expected. We presented the revised sketches; they said they were perfect and then requested further changes. I maintained a poker face—it was the only way to get through these meetings, but Jonas and Morten were quick to let their frustration show. At one point, Jonas demanded to know what kind of game Ole was playing. "Why the hell did you accept our bid and our designs if you want to water them down until they're nothing but copies of something everyone else has already done?"

  And Ole, pragmatic as always, answered, "We wanted the best...and now we want you to be even better."

  When our clients were gone and it was just the team left in the workshop, I told them the news about Milan. "I can't go, not when I need to take care of things with my family. And they come first. They always come first."

  "I can't believe you would throw away such an honor," Benny said. She was the only person at the table who disagreed with my decision.

  "Hold kæft, Benedikte!" Willem muttered. "It's Mads's decision—not yours."

  "It's a stupid decision—this whole collective is on its way to being the new wave of Danish furniture design and he's going to soothe some woman's ego?" The longer she spoke, the more I wished she'd stop. I could already feel my fingers tightening into fists. "I don't see why it can't wait another wee—"

  "Enough, Benedikte!" I couldn't stand to listen to her any longer. I slammed my palm on the rough tabletop. "I don't give a shit if you don’t agree with my decision! You don't like it? There are other places to work!"

  No one said anything for a long time. I was still bristling with rage at Benny's presumption. I stared her down—surely she wouldn't continue to spout off. But she didn't seem to have any common sense. Instead, she continued, "What about the exposure the forum will bring to you?"

  "Fanden, Benny!" Now Willem lost his patience. "Give it up—you already tried to fuck Mads, everyone knows it! He doesn't want you! You've already fucked nearly everyone here, and now you're acting like the only thing you care about is the collective?"

  She let out an exasperated groan and folded her arms across her chest. "Asshole..."

  "Benny, I think you should go home," I said finally. I'd had enough of this. "Just...go."

  "Are you firing me?"

  "Yeah, I am. We'll pay your notice period. But...just go."

  She looked around wildly—I think she thought someone would stand up for her, but no one came to her defense. She pushed back her chair. It scraped the floor and when she stood up, her chair tipped backwards.

  "Fuck you—fuck all of you!" She stormed away from the table and then gathered her sketchpads from her drafting table. None of us moved from the table. Not until she finally stalked out of the workshop did we leave the table. The tension coiling inside me finally unfurled. In a way, it felt as though the workshop had been holding its breath, and now it had dared to exhale.

  "So when do you leave?" Anton was the first to speak. He fell into step beside me as we headed toward our office at the back of the shop. "Did you even get a chance to book your ticket?"

  I shook my head. "I'm going to do it now. I don't want to wait. I feel like I lost enough time already."

  "Ingrid and I were starting to wonder if you were giving up."

  "I love Laney too much to give up."

  "Good. Because if you'd given up...and if you'd fallen for Benny's tricks...I swear, I would have kicked your ass."

  * * *

  By the time we closed up for the day, I felt more like the old me. I wasn't obsessing over the designs or if Ole was going to come up with new demands for changes. I wasn't even worrying about if there would be any repercussions from firing Benny. I could almost hear Anton saying, "I knew she was going to be trouble..."

  I could even remember the uncertain expression on Laney's face as she asked me if I was attracted to Benny. Why hadn't I answered her? Why hadn't I just said no?

  I knew the answer.

  I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said. Benny was never who I wanted. She knew how to get under my skin—under everyone's skin. She’d intrigued me—she was so free, she did what she wanted, said what she wanted. She reminded me of the way I used to be. But…she wasn’t Laney. She was never the person whose very being I craved. Everything would have been easier if I’d just said no when Laney asked me. I was just too blind to see it.

  I was still thinking about it as I walked home. For the first time in weeks the sky was clotted with heavy grey clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the air was so heavy it nearly hurt to breathe. I managed to make it to the entrance to my building before it finally started raining. I climbed the flights of stairs to the apartment and then opened every window to let some f
resh air in.

  If Laney were here, she would have opened all the windows too. She would say the rain was washing away all the stale air and was making everything fresh again. But it could never wash away Laney and how she made me feel.

  While the rain pelted the city, I turned on Laney's iMac and booked my airline ticket. The best one I could find on such short notice was with Norwegian. I thought I'd have to fly via Oslo, but it was a direct flight to Miami International Airport. I also arranged for a rental car. I knew Florida would not be as easy to get around in without a car as New York. It was one of the things Cecily had told me about the last time she'd visited us.

  Once everything was booked, I called Laney. It was around lunchtime on the East Coast of America. I tried to imagine what she was doing as I waited for her to pick up. Was she at the beach with our daughters? Were she and Cecily having one of their heart-to-heart conversations? Was it raining in Florida as well? Mostly though, I wondered how she would react when I was finally there. I hoped she would not be indifferent. I hoped she would not look at me with the same disappointment shining in her eyes. I wanted her to see me and still feel that same pull, the longing, the intimacy, I wanted her to remember that we were good together, and that we could still be good together. Most of all, I wanted her to remember that she loved me.