Page 18 of Exit Lane
I laugh, then blush—that we would both recall these details from the one time we had coffee together, procured from a motel lobby in suburban Illinois and consumed along I-294.
He slides into the chair across from mine, eyes bright and eager. Seeing Teddy in daylight, not across a screen, I can catalog how he’s changed and how he hasn’t. He’s grown into his features. He still carries himself with confidence, but it’s more relaxed, less straight-backed.
I wish he’d stop staring at me with those eyes. And I wish I could focus on something other than the way his shoulders are pressing against his cotton sweatshirt. I never feel nervous on dates—not that this qualifies as one—and I’m not big on morning-after hangs. This is novel. I’m glad Teddy’s the first person I’m making breakfast for. In a weird way that I’m not sure how to interrogate yet, it feels right.
I tried to make a pros and cons list in my journal this morning, before calling Sloane, but the competing thoughtswere so disorienting that I shoved the notebook away like it was to blame. I’m determined to try my best not to analyze my feelings to death, not to let my rational mind hijack the day.
And now I have Teddy here in the flesh to help with that. The scene of him sleeping, shirtless with an erection. His chiseled body fresh from the shower, in accidental repose on my floor. Now, watching him watch me, my rational mind is no longer a factor. All I can think about is enacting every scene from our phone call here on the kitchen counter. That has to mean something. But does it matter? I straighten my spine and push my hair out of my face, the way I always do when I’m nervous. No one else makes me feel this way. What if I let myself think of that as a good thing?
Stop belaboring it, I tell myself.You’ve already decided you’re letting him stay.
“Does your surprise trip come with a surprise agenda?” I ask.
Teddy smiles. “The only game plan was to not get thrown out of your apartment. I saw you took the day off.”
I smooth the linen tablecloth mindlessly, moved by the eagerness in his voice. That he wanted to ask more but didn’t. This time, we’re not stuck on the interstate with a broken radio. We have the entire city of Copenhagen at our disposal.
“Here’s the plan. Sloane’s visiting in two weeks with Violet for her spring break. I’m going to test run a trial itinerary on you.”
Teddy leans back in his chair, and I feel something warm in the middle of my hips.
“You’re telling me Marin Voss is looking for some constructive feedback? I’m in.”
“We leave in thirty,” I instruct, tossing back my cortado. Trying to swallow a feeling stronger than a crush, sweeter than desire.
XIV
Teddy
I stifle a massive yawn while mimicking Marin’s stance, arms crossed behind her back, as we stand in front of a burgundy hall stuffed with statues at the Thorvaldsens Museum. “Teddy, are you with me?”
I nod, but I also can’t keep from laughing. My body doesn’t know what time it is, but it knows that watching Marin moonlight as a tour guide is sexy, even if I could probably be a bit more engaged with what she’s showing me.
“Oh my god, you hate this. Of course you hate this.” She moves her hand to the sleeve of my coat, her concern genuine. I’m here, but in my head, there’s nothing between her skin and mine. We’re back at the apartment, making up for lost time.
I interrupt, eager for her to know that wherever she is, is exactly where I want to be. “No, not at all, I’m just a little...”
Her tone shifts, and I recognize this tenor from meetings where she plays moderator for dozens of finicky investors. “You’re a modern art guy. Naturally. I’m noting theJapanese denim and APC wool trench you’re wearing. Ok, come on. We’re pivoting.”
Does she know I’d follow her anywhere, and should I be embarrassed by that?I wonder. To see her act the way she does on the phone and in work calls in real life is almost intimidatingly thrilling. Twelve hours into this grand romantic gesture, and I’m captivated by how much more spectacular she is up close—even more than I remember. And I’m floored by how full-body smitten I am in her proximity.
Marin checks her phone and scrunches her nose. “We have twenty minutes to make a train. You ready to book it?”
As I trail her through the streets of Copenhagen, past unaccompanied babies napping in strollers and quaintly tidy trash cans, I can see the city’s appeal. Maybe I could live here. Maybe it’s as good a place to raise kids as Iowa is. Isn’t that what people say about Denmark? Good for families? The thoughts flash through my mind without warning, and I shake my head as if that will set them free.
We arrive at the station out of breath, and Marin punches instructions into a touchscreen machine, buys our tickets, and whisks us onto the metro. Not a subway car jammed full of deodorant-averse teenagers and the occasional hot-boxing weed-smoker like I’m used to. A silent train bulleting through the countryside with passengers whispering respectfully and sipping tea from thermoses.
“It gets dark here at, like, four, so time is of the essence,” Marin explains once we settle into seats facing each other. Our knees knock accidentally, but then they stay there,resting against each other. Marin raises a hand, a motion I’ve seen her make before in meetings. She’s about to ask an uncomfortable question.
“Just so we’re aligned,” she starts, then sighs. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m in work mode right now.” She pauses, and I see the genuine concern in her movements. She fumbles in her bag for her mints, pops one, and offers the tin to me.
It hits me: What I came here seeking is as much of a risk for her as it is for me. She’s so poised and frank that I sometimes forget that her underbelly is as soft as mine. Even if glimpses of her more tender parts are what drew me to her in the first place. I press my shoulders against the seat, rest my hands in my lap, and wait for her to continue.
“You’re not dating Caroline anymore, right? That wasn’t a dramatic embellishment in your monologue last night?”
The square inch where our knees touch feels like a conduit. I want to reach for her hands, but I tug my ear instead. “No, we really broke up. After you and I...” I feel my cheeks heat. “I couldn’t think straight, and I knew it at least had a little bit to do with being in a relationship with someone I couldn’t actually see myself with.”
Marin nods. The train keeps rolling. It’s almost as if I can see her stuffing her emotions down while her eyes trace the tree line out the window.
