Christmas Wishes Page 10

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she breathed, wishing she could take away his distress. But even as she thought it she was more aware than ever of his height, his cheekbones and jawline, the small lines at the corners of his eyes. She wanted to comfort him, draw his head down to hers so she could kiss him softly, fitting her body to his.

  Her heart kicked up a gear.

  She had to lick suddenly dry lips.

  Nico had stopped speaking and was staring into her eyes as if he were feeling it too. The air vibrated. His mouth hovered closer to hers and she half-closed her eyes, waiting, expecting …

  Then Rob’s voice broke over them, loud and jokey. ‘What are you doing with my stupid sister, Pettersson?’

  Hannah’s eyes pinged open as she realised Rob and Leesa had paused beside them, beaming in each other’s arms as they swayed to the music. She laughed shakily, knowing from Rob’s red face and glittering eyes that a lot of the free-flowing fizz had flowed in his direction. ‘Don’t take any notice of my bonkers brother.’

  ‘Such English terms of endearment,’ Nico said drily. They all laughed and paused the dancing to chat, Leesa smiling as she listened, her arm hooked around her new husband.

  Hannah soon took a back seat in the conversation too, half her attention on the way Leesa looked at Rob and Rob stroked Leesa’s bare arm. The other half was on Nico and how he was making her feel: heated, fizzy, breathless and excited. He’d asked to see her again. She wished things were already at an end with Albin. She’d have been free to …

  She realised Nico was speaking, asking her, ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Fine.’ She smiled but her blood roared as she took in the fact that she’d just made the assumption that soon she’d be single. And, so far as she knew, Nico was too.

  ‘Have you had too much to drink?’ demanded Rob. ‘You look weird.’

  ‘Of course not.’ But her voice seemed to come from far away as she acknowledged that if Nico had kissed her she would have responded. It opened a door and blinded her with a look at reality. Albin wasn’t acting towards her as he used to, as if he cared. And she’d … what? Asked to talk about it as if their relationship were another business transaction between them? Been secretly relieved when he put off the confrontation? Shame settled over her. The jolt of electricity between her and Nico proved she was capable of so much more. She’d wanted him to kiss her. A kiss was intimate. A connection. You didn’t want anyone to put his mouth on yours unless you knew it was going to feel like heaven.

  Rob and Nico made a few jokey remarks and she smiled as if she were listening whereas actually practical problems about ending things with Albin were flying at her. The shop lease – Albin would be her landlord. Somewhere to live – Stockholm was cripplingly expensive. The room grew uncomfortably hot as she realised that she had a rocky road to travel … but that it had to be done.

  Vaguely, she was aware of Nico taking a phone call. Saying, ‘Babysitter. Josie’s woken up. I’ll check she’s OK.’ She watched his shoulders as he strode across the dance floor.

  ‘Hannah, are you sure you’re all right?’ Rob asked insistently.

  ‘Just tired, suddenly,’ she said. It wasn’t a lie because the confusion of feelings on top of the long day had hit her. ‘I’ll sit with Mum and Dad.’ Her legs felt like noodles as she made her way to where Mo and Jeremy had set up camp in a corner. Nan was chatting to Nettie, a foster sister Mo had kept in touch with. Jeremy’s sister, Hannah’s Aunt Sally, was squealing with laughter. Jeremy was telling someone which European countries he and Mo wanted to visit in the camper van. Hannah smiled at her mum’s cousins and Nan’s village friends and took a seat on the edge of the group.

  Although she assumed a listening expression, her mind scurried around like a mouse looking for a way out of a maze. Last night she’d seen her lovely grandmother upset that Brett had wanted to make legal provisions ahead of their marriage. But, putting herself on the other side of the fence, she wouldn’t have minded the comfort of she and Albin having agreed up front what happened at the end of their relationship.

  She might have thought herself ready to second-guess her decision … if she wasn’t watching for Nico to come back.

  Upstairs, Nico let himself into the hotel room, the TV flickering quietly in the corner, the babysitter seated comfortably in the bedroom armchair while she watched a cop drama. Her name was Jean and she had a round, motherly face it was easy to trust. ‘She’s just about gone off again,’ she whispered.

  ‘Thanks.’ He crouched by Josie, whose eyes fluttered open and then closed again. Her hair stuck out, crinkly from her earlier plait. He watched her even breathing, her hand curled on her pillow. Maria slept with her nose squashed and her bum in the air and didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘I’m fine for another hour or two if you want to go back,’ Jean whispered, starting a new row of knitting.

  ‘Thanks. Just ring again any time.’ He jogged back down the red-carpeted main staircase, relishing the dizzy feeling of responsibility floating off his shoulders. He had a warm buzz on, too, after a typical wedding combination of sherry, wine and fizz … and dancing with a beautiful woman. It beat the hell out of feeling stressed and rushed. Maybe he ought to think about regular weekends in the country. Earlier, he’d been talking to one of Rob’s mates he remembered from the old days – Ratty. He had some longer, very English-sounding name but everyone called him Ratty. Ratty owned several village cottages and Nico wished he could afford to rent one as a bolthole.

  At the foot of the stairs he hesitated, seeing Amanda Louise lurking in apparent casualness at the door to the function room, tossing her head about as if inviting everyone to admire her blonde locks.

  When she’d invited herself to talk to him earlier she hadn’t made him laugh once – not like Hannah had with that outrageous comment about orgasms. He still had a few specks of red wine down his shirt as a result of overhearing that.

  Hannah. That’s who he wanted to search out again. When he and Loren had married, the bridesmaids had been togged out in ruffled blue dresses that reminded him of Disney shepherdesses. He preferred the sleeker, shorter style Hannah wore. Particularly when the zip stuck. He’d enjoyed helping with that, though his fingers had fumbled as Hannah held her long hair aside, showing him her smooth back bisected by a lacy peach bra strap.

  Nan Heather had told him Hannah’s straight, glossy sheet of hair was ‘tortoiseshell’. It wasn’t an English word he was acquainted with so he’d looked on his phone and seen cats in a mixture of colours from dark to gingery brown. He could see what Nan Heather meant. The streaky hair went startlingly well with Hannah’s knowing, intelligent eyes. ‘Aquamarine’ Nan Heather had said. He hadn’t needed to look that up.

  The blue-green eyes had been fixed on his face as he’d told her about poor Jan Frick and he’d read only horrified sympathy until … suddenly her gaze had contained something quite other. Something heated and intent, as if she were a cat herself and had spied something to hunt. Desire had rocketed through him. His life hadn’t allowed him much freedom for sexual adventures since Loren. He’d hooked up a couple of times, of course, because what self-respecting man wouldn’t when going through a divorce, but they’d been mechanical encounters.

  This felt … different. Rich. Pulsing. Hot.

  A voice in his ear disturbed his thoughts. ‘Having a good time?’ Rob demanded, lifting his voice over the music booming through the open doors.

  Nico hadn’t noticed that his and Rob’s paths had converged as they crossed the hotel’s grand lobby from different directions.

  ‘Great,’ he said truthfully.

  They reached the doors to the reception room together, which gave Nico hope he’d be able to get past Amanda Louise through being deep in conversation and pretending to be blinded by the strobing lights. Rob checked his progress. ‘Remember when we were in the Peterborough Plunderers together? That rule we had against going out with each other’s sisters or exes?’

  Caught unawares, Nico
stiffened. ‘I’d forgotten till this moment.’ A weight formed in his guts.

  Rob went on, ‘Well, aside from Hannah living with Albin—’

  All the saliva in Nico’s mouth dried as the words sank in. ‘Hannah has a sambo?’ The Swedish word for live-in partner came out in his shock. ‘I mean, she lives with her boyfriend?’

  Rob pulled a face. ‘Yeah. A posh prick with a snooty apartment in Östermalm. Hannah’s been trying to pretend work kept him away from the wedding but we know he thinks we’re beneath him.’

  Rob paused as an older woman bustled up and threw her arms around him, flushed and giggly. ‘I haven’t had a dance with my new nephew-in-law! Our Leesa’s a lucky girl to have snagged you.’

  Rob allowed himself to be pulled towards the dance floor with a good-natured grin, tossing back over his shoulder, ‘We need to finish this conversation later.’

  Nico watched him go, sobering up fast. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Rob had warned him off Hannah. He could have negotiated past that juvenile old ‘no sisters, no exes’ teammates rule but not that Hannah was living with someone, whether or not it was in the elegant district of Östermalm. Of course Rob was concerned if he thought Nico was poaching. Nico had been on the other end of that treatment and he remembered the misery of knowing he’d been cheated on. Anger rose up to throttle him. Hannah hadn’t mentioned Albin! Being tipsy at a wedding didn’t excuse the signals she’d been sending him or the fact he hadn’t checked she was single. He had to stop it now.

  His mood plunged.

  Then a cooing voice called, ‘Niiii-co! Let’s dance!’ and Amanda Louise swept towards him, tossing her hair. He didn’t resist. At least dancing with her would keep him away from Hannah. And he was going to stop drinking right now.

  Hannah’s heart somersaulted as, beyond the shifting bodies on the dance floor, she saw Nico reappear in the doorway. But now his face had become a set, strained mask, completely at odds with the loose, smiling Nico who’d gone upstairs to his daughter ten minutes ago. Her stomach sank. Maybe he hadn’t been able to settle Josie and was just popping down to tell Hannah goodnight?

  But then a blonde head moved closer to his. Nico turned towards it with a perfunctory smile and he nodded. Hannah watched in dismay as the dance floor cleared sufficiently to give her a grandstand view of Amanda Louise leading him onto the polished floor, the swirling lights playing over her sinuous satin and his white shirt.

  And Nico twirled her into a slow dance without looking Hannah’s way.

  She recoiled, shocked how much she minded. Stonily, she watched Amanda Louise entwine her arms about his neck and gaze into his face, her lips moving, her head tilting coquettishly, words swallowed up by the band and the hubbub of voices shouting over the thrumming music.

  Hoping Nico was simply being polite because Amanda Louise had asked him to dance Hannah waited, hardly able to breathe. One dance became two, then three and four. Nico didn’t look up from Amanda Louise once.

  The rest of the evening felt like a five-mile slog through mud.

  She talked to her family and danced with old friends but her insides seemed caked in ice. When she looked for Nico again both he and Amanda Louise had gone.

  Hannah went to bed at two, carrying her shoes. In her room, her zip stuck again and she yanked at the fabric until, uncaring, she heard it rip. She was pretty certain she’d never wear the jumpsuit again.

  Though exhausted, she tossed and turned. It felt unbelievable that a warm, smiling Nico had quit the room and a granite-faced Nico had returned, specifically to ignore Hannah, it seemed.

  Eventually she slept fitfully, plagued by dreams of a stern-faced Albin helping her fit a bed in the shop and telling her she lived there now while Nico danced with Amanda Louise outside in the street. She was glad to rise at eight, having promised to meet Nan, who didn’t want to broach the hotel dining room alone and said late breakfasts got on her nerves.

  Other wedding guests were in the dining room, looking different without their glad rags, but no one from the family. Mo and Jeremy were probably still recovering and Rob and Leesa should already have been whisked off by limo for their honeymoon in Goa. Hannah sent a lightning glance around the dining room but there was no sign of Nico.

  A waiter showed them to a table with cane-backed chairs and a white cloth then fetched hot tea while Nan slathered a thick slice of toast with double strawberry jam and Hannah helped herself to eggs and bacon. ‘That boy Nico,’ said Nan, licking jam from her thumb. ‘He’s looking after his ex-wife’s little girl.’

  Hannah cut into her egg and watched yolk pooling on the plate with a waning appetite. ‘I know.’

  Nan sipped tea from the hotel’s elegant white porcelain cup. ‘Private fostering or kinship, it’s called, when kids end up being looked after by uncles and aunts or family friends. Shame for the kiddie but she’s fallen on her feet with that Nico. Compassionate man.’

  Hannah nodded.

  Amanda Louise arrived with a group of friends, smiling and nodding politely to Hannah and Nan.

  ‘So,’ challenged one of the friends as they settled at a nearby table. ‘What happened? I saw you smooching with him. Snagged and shagged?’

  Hannah’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want to know the answer but she could neither blame Amanda Louise for fixing her sights on Nico or Nico for taking advantage. Last night she’d dared to hope that a single life might lend itself to seeing Nico on his visits to Stockholm but if tall, striking Amanda Louise had given him the green light it would explain his suddenly turned cold shoulder.

  But Amanda Louise said, ‘He couldn’t leave his kids,’ and changed the subject. Relief surged through Hannah, even if Amanda Louise’s tone implied the kids were the only reason Nico hadn’t spent a wild night in her bed.

  ‘I miss you living in England,’ Nan said suddenly, her voice creaking.

  It jerked Hannah out of her self-absorption. With horror, she saw a tear balanced on Nan’s sparse eyelashes. ‘I miss you too.’ She gulped down the lump in her throat and slid a gentle arm around Nan’s frail old shoulders. It dawned on her that with her parents on their travels and Brett off the scene, Nan’s Christmas might depend on Rob and Leesa. She hoped they’d welcome Nan with open arms because Hannah had no idea where she’d be living and, anyway, Nan could never make the trip to Sweden alone at ninety.

  In fact … chances were Hannah’s Christmas would be a lonely affair, with the shop shut on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and not even Albin for company. Unable to think of words with which to comfort Nan, she just hugged her harder.

  Chapter Eight

  On the flight, Hannah tried to occupy her mind with Hannah Anna Butik’s Christmas decorations. She’d already put up an illuminated star in the window and white lights around window and door. Perhaps she’d add icicle-shaped lights on boughs of spruce with baubles of gold and black.

  No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept darting off. When would it be best to make Albin discuss their relationship? After the tetchiness as she’d left, her only contact had been a text to tell him she’d arrived and a WhatsApped picture of the bride and groom. She wouldn’t land until ten-fifty p.m. She’d take the train from Arlanda airport and then an Uber to Östermalm, reaching Albin’s apartment about one a.m. He’d probably be asleep. Tomorrow morning? Ridiculous to think of sliding it into the conversation before they left for work.

  The butterflies that journeyed home with her fluttered wings of ice but when she finally let herself into the apartment she was surprised to discover Albin awake.

  She greeted him warily, wheeling her baggage onto the tiled hall floor. He smiled and put aside his book, rising slowly.

  They faced each other.

  Hannah searched his smooth face, her heartbeat jigging as she took a breath to speak.

  Albin got in first, his voice soft. ‘I waited up for you because it’s time to talk.’

  Relief broke over her. ‘You’re right.’ The words ‘This isn’t working’
rose to her tongue but suddenly it was Albin’s mouth they were coming out of.

  He added, ‘We had great times together but they’re in the past.’ He smiled courteously, his voice dropping. ‘Sorry I put off this conversation but I had things to arrange. I’m afraid I have to ask you to move out, Hannah.’

  Thrown that he was speaking her lines she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘What about Hannah Anna Butik?’

  Sardonic amusement filled his eyes. ‘Interesting that it’s the shop that’s your first concern. Not me. Not us.’

  Blood raced to her face. ‘Sorry – I …’ She swallowed. ‘I was going to raise the same subject but you took me by surprise. And,’ she added, her eyes prickling, ‘it’s sad, after almost two years.’

  ‘Let’s sit down.’ He didn’t look sad as he took his customary armchair and she dropped down onto the sofa. Whatever she’d thought would happen when she faced Albin, it wasn’t that he’d get in first. He leaned forward, holding her gaze. ‘We moved from “fling” to “relationship” and, like letting you hang your red towels in my bathroom, by the time I acknowledged that it wasn’t for me, I’d let it happen.’

  Hannah was stung. ‘I didn’t know I was ever a “fling”,’ she said stiffly. ‘But this is your family’s apartment so, of course, I’ll move out. I’ll just need time. I don’t think I can live at the shop so I’ll try and find someone who’s looking to share.’

  Albin’s dark eyes narrowed. He sighed. ‘Hannah,’ he said politely. ‘Your shop isn’t working either.’

  Instantly, she fired up. ‘My takings are on a great trajectory!’

  ‘A Christmas shopping spike, nothing else. Your shop was never in the right place. Köpmangatan is neither Stortorget nor Österlånggatan, but the road between the two.’

  ‘I couldn’t afford Stortorget or Österlånggatan, as you know, and Köpmangatan’s fine. My upscale shop fits well with the antique shops and art galleries. It gets tourist footfall. It fits my economic landscape. If it’s so crap, why did you sign the lease?’