Page 50 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
Her face flushes. The skin at her ear rises with goosebumps, because the thought of throwing all rules and restraint aside and rolling with this has all sorts of heat pooling in her lower belly. It also has her tongue-tied.
Jamie lets go of the chain link and Anna instantly feels colder for it. Then he takes hold of her collars and pulls them to, only skimming her with his fingertips, but it’s enough to have an effect and she suspects this is exactly his intention. He takes a breath to speak. Anna, with a sudden knot of anticipation and trepidation, looks up at him with wide eyes, waiting, desperate to know what he’ll say next, what words might come out of his mouth to blow her off the edge of her sensible thinking. Because it will, and it will only need to be the lightest of breezes.
“Time to go, Lundholm. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” he says at last.
Oh.
* * *
They walk back up Købmagergade, past the closed shops, window-shopping at Arnold Busck the bookstore, and still talking about the magic of the stars above the city. They walk close, hands in pockets, arms almost rubbing, but not quite. Almost as if it’s the safest option. Anna’s hand twitches to slide between his arm and body, for her to lean in and be close. She keeps shooting him sideways glances, thinking about her confusion of feelings for him. There is this pull– that’s the only way she can describe it– but also the push of everything around them; her situation, the city, her break-up with Carl. And now that her head is getting in there, there’s still the worry about him having lied to her. She understands why he did it, and he seems genuinely contrite, but it’s still a reminder that people lie, about all sorts of things, and Anna doesn’t know how to work with that.
That said, she can’t deny she’s slightly hoping Smilla will appear again, so she’ll have the excuse.
“Anna!” She hears her name from behind her and looks over her shoulder. A man is staring at her, at them. It takes a moment to place him, because it’s been a while, the context is off and most of his head is swaddled in scarf and hat.
“Morten.Hej,” she says. He’s Carl’s cousin. Having known him for many years, he is also, in Anna’s estimation, an arse.
Morten does a very good job of being totally unsubtle in sizing Jamie up. Or perhaps he’s checking him out. Either is possible if Anna recalls correctly.
“Are you back?” he asks, not taking his eyes off Jamie. Neither he nor Anna move in for a hug.
“Clearly,” Anna says. She feels Jamie’s hand slide up her back to rest on her shoulder. It’s protective rather than possessive. He must recognise she isn’t thrilled to see him. But it reminds her of her manners.
“Morten, this is Jamie; Jamie, Morten, Carl’s cousin.” She deliberately doesn’t explain who Jamie is, because she doesn’t want to. Nor is it any of Morten’s business, now shethinks of it.
“Carl know you’re here?” It’s a bit of a sneer. He certainly hasn’t said, “Nice to see you.”
“He does,” she says with a tight smile. “No need to ring him.” Morten’s smile is equally tight at the insinuation. She doesn’t know why. He’s generally known as a gossip. He rather fancies himself as the fountain of salacious knowledge among his friends, like a walking Popbitch.
“You pulled quite the stunt on him there,” he says. She tilts her head at this, not wanting to be drawn. “Throwing his belongings onto the street,” he clarifies.
She takes the bait. “I knew what you meant. I was questioning who was pulling the stunts. Cheating doesn’t rank highly in your book, then?”
“Maiken? We thought you were OK with it,” he says with a shrug. “The two of you had been together so long, opening the relationship sounded like you wanted some variety again.” Anna feels like she’s been punched. There are various things to address there, although she knows she should walk away. She doesn’t want to be arguing in the street, making a scene. And particularly not with Morten. But she has to ask, “We?”
There’s delight in his eyes and she knows she’s feeding his snidery. Why didn’t she just walk away?
“The family. We’d been talking about it for a while. Was it an official throuple? No one quite knew, though Annette didn’t think you’d be up for full-time polyamory.”
Annette? Carl’s mother!
The blood is slowly draining from Anna’s face. His family had welcomed her, and she’d embraced them and now she hears they were discussing the affair before she even knew about it. This is worse than her nightmares had painted. It also shows Carl had been less than discreet.
Again, she can’t stop herself from asking, because she’s never really found out and it’s gnawed at her for a long time.
“When was this?”
Morten immediately sees she’s fishing for a timeline.
“Ah, probably some party you didn’t attend. You missed lots with your travels. You’ll have to ask Carl.”
He looks at his watch, as if she’s been detaining him. Why hadn’t he just walked on and ignored her? She wishes he had.
Her entire night will now be spent running through all of the last family events, working out which she’d missed and how far it could have gone back. She thinks of the get-togethers just before she found out, where his family must have known, but chose not to give her even a hint. That the women had sided with Carl over any kind of sisterly tip-off. Perhaps they thought they were minding their own business and shouldn’t intrude. Either sucks.
She’ll drive herself mad with it, thinking about his family discussing it behind her back. Even his mother! Lovely Annette whom she thought liked her. Not enough to warn her or give her son a swift boot to the backside, obviously. And then them all dissecting it later after Anna had kicked him to the kerb. She’d always found it strange that Annette hadn’t reached out to her in any way. But then again, Anna hadn’t reached out to her, either. Oh, and she’d fled the country. Dammit. Not fled. She’dremovedherself. Anna mentally admonishes herself to stick to her guns. Jamie’s not right on this.
As if he’s heard her thinking of him, Anna suddenly feels Jamie’s lips on her hair as he presses an obvious kiss on her and says, “We’ve got to go,skat.” The sound of him calling her “treasure” is like a balm, and it’s the easiest thing to lean into his kiss and into his steady frame. The widening of Morten’s eyes is a joy to behold. Which is what makes her turn to look up into Jamie’s face, with what she hopes is a private smile, as she flicks her eyes from his to his lips, and then letting the smile spread wider, in joy of beholding his gorgeous face. She feels like her own face is shining on his, and she’s thrilled to see it reflected back at her. They are so good at this! Morten’s getting the full treatment. Perfectly in tune, they lean their faces together and give each other a small soft kiss; subtle and delicate, the kiss of two people at ease with each other, not that of two rampant teens, although Anna wouldn’t be averse to trying one of those, too. She restrains herself, though, keen for Morten to have a clear report to share of her moving on and in a sophisticated fashion, not in a hot mess, snogging in the street kind of way. The art is in the execution.
