Page 30 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
Anna makes herself busy, trying not to listen in, but it’s hard when she’s hearing the mix of frustration and guilt in Jamie’s voice.
She sits at the table when the call comes to an uncomfortable end.
“Still wants you back on Skye?” she asks. There’s no point acting oblivious.
He gives a long exhale. “Aye. Same conversation over and over. He doesn’t get it, or he doesn’t want to hear it.”
“He doesn’t want you to be happy?”
Jamie looks her in the eyes. “He can’t see how I wouldn’t be happy on Skye. An island he loves and has never left, and a farm he was born to and wants to pass on to his only son. In his eyes, it’s a gift I’m passing up, for something he has no experience of.” He gives her a flat smile, then changes the subject with a more upbeat, “What’s the plan?”
“Well, I’ve already had my daily chat with my friends at the airline. We all know each other by name now,” she says, holding out the plate to him. He takes akanelsnegl, some of the pastry flaking onto his work. “Copenhagen is clear and flights are going again, provided you live east of here and didn’t have the snowstorm. British airports are still stuffed and all UK flights still cancelled. So, no news, to be honest.” She’s almost resigned to it now. Maybe getting the fear of seeing Carl out of the way, has doused some of the urgency? Anna lifts up the laptop she’s brought down.
“Can I work here? It’s all research, not calls, so I won’t disturb you.”
“Of course,” he says. “Unless my calls will disturb you?”
“Nope. It’s nice to have other voices around.” She’s used to working alone in her apartment. Often, she’ll move to a café just to hear other human beings.
And so, they sit together, each hammering away at their respective keyboards. It’s a comfortable silence, even as Jamie refills their coffee cups, or Anna brings a plate ofsmåkagerto the table to go with it. Now and again, Jamie takes a call, and Anna tries to ignore it, but it’s intriguing to see and hear him being his professional self. Carl always had his work persona– more bolshy and demanding– because that’s how he got his way. Jamie’s persona isn’t too different, from what she’s seen of him, from his home self, listening rather than demanding, considering, standing firm in some cases, compromising when he’s shown a better way. It makes for a far more relaxed environment and Anna imagines his office must be the same. When she isn’t actively travelling or devising and discussing her tour ideas, she doesn’t have much face-to-face interaction. It’s mostly the subsequent online research, emailing vendors or cruise lines, or her staple of writing articles for Katrine’s website.
It’s during a pause in the hammering that Anna hears Jamie’s breath hitch. He’s been checking something on his phone.
“What?” she asks, naturally intrigued.
Jamie’s eyes meet hers across the screen.
“Nothing.”
Something feels off. Anna might work in travel, but she’s still a journalist by training and she can sense there’s something here.
“You gasped.”
“I don’t gasp,” states Jamie. “Maiden aunts and Regency heroines gasp.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your breath distinctly hitched. It suggested shock or disgust.”
His brow furrows at that. “I grew up on a farm. Takes a lot to disgust me.”
“Shock then,” she says, taking it as an admission. She makes a “gimme” gesture at his phone. He places it screen down on the table instead.
“Trade secrets?” she asks. Fair enough if it is, but he hasn’t suggested there’s anything clandestine or competitive in his work.
“It’s nothing,” he says again, smoother this time, but it’s too late. Something is going on.
“Jamie? If it isn’t a business thing, then just show me? Is it Carl, did he put something on the street Facebook group? I bet he’s still on there.” She isn’t. That was a tie she had to cut early on.
Something is battling on his face. Anna crosses her arms.
“I’ve been a teenage girl, Jamie. I can out-stare you, out-mood you and out-stubborn you. Give it up.” She repeats the hand gesture.
He scratches his cheek, then finally sighs, before opening his phone and sliding it across, with a “You asked for it. Remember that.”
The sound that comes from Anna is somewhere between a scream and a yowl. Jamie sits back and rides it out. He’s crossed his own arms, mirroring her, but it appears more like a “told you, but you wouldn’t listen” gesture.
“Oh my God!” she manages once the sound has abated. She cannot believe what she’s seeing. “What is the matter with people?!”
There on the screen is a new photo of her and Jamie, gazing at each other like smitten kittens. The sky is dark behind them, there’s steam rising around them from the tubs, their skin is glistening from the water. Jamie is holding the towel, seconds from swaddling her in it. Some other hot-tubber has snapped this of Jamie and Anna. Or rather Jamie and Anna in the teeny-weeny bikini.
