Page 58 of Ignited in Iceland
‘Deal.’ Although at this point, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to speak to Siggi again. It felt unimaginable that they’d ever be able to go back to the easy relationship they’d had before.
Iris spent another half an hour browsing the Snug shop, stunned to find out that there were branches in the UK and in a few other European cities. It had completely passed her by until now.
‘Okay, I’m done,’ she said, placing a beautiful blanket on the counter with the rest of her goodies. It was woven in the softest shades of grey and heathery purples, with a dash of bright pink and green that lifted it.
Gudrun sent the guy who had been manning the till off to tidy some cushions and rang up Iris’s sale herself. She packed everything carefully into a huge brown paper carrier bag. ‘I think this bag will be okay today,’ she said. ‘We have plastic ones for when the weather is terrible.’
‘Thank you for this. For everything.’
‘I hope we see you again soon. And you can always find me here if you need to talk about anything.’
Iris walked back to the hotel reflecting on how remarkable it was that she had found two women here who she’d confided in about things she wouldn’t dream of talking about to her friends at home. Whether it was because they had busier lives than her, with husbands and families that made Iris feel as if her issues were insignificant and superficial in comparison, or whether it was because Bjarkey and Gudrun had an openness about them that invited those sorts of conversations. Either way, it was going down on the pro side of the mental pro-con list she was making about the possible job at the IMO.
When she got back to the hotel, Embla was still on the front desk, but wasn’t shooting daggers at her for once. She gave Iris a small smile. It was unsettling but probably a sign that Siggihad been here looking for her. No doubt Embla had softened knowing that something had gone wrong between them.
‘Iris? I have a note for you.’
Iris backtracked to the reception desk and took the folded sheet of paper that Embla held out to her. She flicked it open for long enough to see that it was from Siggi, then shoved it into her Snug shopping bag.
‘Thank you.’ She was surprised that Embla would do anything for Siggi given how much she seemed to loathe him.
‘No problem.’ She gave Iris what seemed to be a genuine smile. ‘I am sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ Iris said again, not sure what Embla was sorry about. Presumably either the rift between her and Siggi, or being a less than welcoming receptionist.
Iris went up to her room, closed the door behind her and, after she’d put her shopping carefully down on the side, took off her coat and boots and lay on the bed. She felt exhausted, and it was only eleven in the morning. Then she remembered the note that she’d stuffed in the bag.
Iris,
I need you to know that what I said is not because I feel nothing for you. I feel everything for you. But I am not a man, someone like Jonas or Olafur, who can share their life with someone. I do not know what my future looks like beyond next week and I cannot imagine how it would look with or without you. Please let me try to explain, Iris. I cannot live with knowing I have hurt you.
S
x
It made Iris feel better that he sounded sorry, but it didn’t sound as though he thought any differently about the situation. Perhaps just that he wanted to explain himself properly. Eitherway, it was too soon and too raw to risk hearing Siggi explain again that he didn’t want her. The one word she would have liked to see in the note was “mistake”. Whether he made a mistake in saying he wanted no part of a future with her or whether it was simply that he’d made a mistake in the way he’d handled the situation, either way she wished that was how he saw things. All Iris could read into the note was that he couldn’t share his life with her, and while he couldn’t imagine her not in his life, that probably wasn’t enough of a reason to go all-in together.
She folded the note in half again and again until it was tiny. Then she tucked it in her case and tried to forget about it. The fissure in Hraunvik wasn’t going to wait for anything and she had more data to analyse from the new seismometers they’d sited yesterday. It was over with Siggi. She had to accept that. Perhaps before she left Iceland, she’d talk to him, try to get some closure, but she had to forget about any future with Siggi in it.
19
IF ONLY HE hadn’t had to pay the bill, he might have caught her up. In the time it had taken for the waitress to fetch the card machine and for him to tap on it, Iris had disappeared.
Siggi pulled his coat on as he strode along Laugavegur towards Iris’s hotel. He was angry with himself. Why had he reacted like that? So quick to establish a distance between him and Iris, as if that was really what he wanted. The problem was, he’d spent the past fourteen years making sure that no one got close enough to him that he could ever be held responsible for bringing their world crashing down around them, like he had done to Hekla all those years ago. Since then, he had kept any relationships he’d had superficial. If anyone had got close, that wastheirproblem. He’d always been straight with women about what they could expect from him, and they still expected too much.
But Iris had expected nothing. She’d sat there and told him it wasn’t aboutthisjob, it was that she knew now she had options. It might be here, it might not. And he had trampled all over that and made it about him. All he had heard was Iris locking him into her future, just like when Hekla had told him she was pregnant, and in that instant, he’d felt exactly the same as he had back then.
He got to the hotel, having scanned the streets around him as he walked for any glimpse of Iris. And it was just his luck. Embla was on the desk.
‘Have you seen Iris in the last few minutes?’ he asked her.
‘No. I am guessing you have had an argument?’ There was an air of satisfaction in the way she said it, making Siggi want to stalk out. But he didn’t. He had to find Iris and explain.
‘Can I leave a message for her?’
Embla slammed a pad and pen down in front of him. But it wasn’t that easy. He took a seat on one of the inviting leather sofas, resting his ankle over his knee and the pad of paper on his thigh. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes, hoping inspiration would strike. It was important not to make excuses. He knew that much. And saying sorry wasn’t enough.
‘What are you trying to say?’ Embla came out from behind the desk and sat on the sofa next to him.
