Page 74 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
She needs to leave. She scopes what is left on the plate. She can live without the cucumber sandwich, but the eclair is a shoo-in. In the spiky silence, she horses the little-finger-sized eclair in one, then drains her tea and folds the cream-and-jammed scone into a napkin.
“I’d say it’s been great to see you, but it hasn’t.”
Maiken, having watched her pack up, gives her a thin smile as Anna stands.
“I’ll see you around.”
“Unlikely. I’m leaving soon.” She doesn’t say to where, but it doesn’t matter. It’s piqued Maiken’s interest.
“Oh, Jamie leaving with you?”
This makes Anna stumble. She knows Maiken, she’ll check if the notion takes her.
“We’re doing the long-distance thing.” She doesn’t sound as assured as she’d like, and Maiken senses it.
“Doesn’t sound like you.”
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“You think? Everything I’ve seen today has been typical Anna. And I don’t believe you’d do long-distance. You’re too like Ida. No ties.”
Anna can feel her face heating up and giving her away.
Maiken taps her finger to her chin. “Perhaps I could do a story on the Snowmance couple. Show people who you really are, and where you are now, that kind of thing.” This is her revenge for Anna delighting in her insecurity. Anna knew it was bad to think like that and here’s karma biting her in the bum, within ten minutes. She will definitely be doing some self-reflection. But more important is the threat this would bring to Jamie. Things are too fragile still with Lajla for their ruse to be overlooked. But she won’t be blackmailed by Maiken.
“Leave it alone, Maiken. You already messed with one relationship of mine.”
Finally, Maiken shows her teeth. “Give me back my locket and we’ll call it quits.” There. That’s what she stayed for, nothing more. Anna could have told Jamie that.
Anna digs into her pocket and drops the locket on the table. “You saved me a trip.”
“I knew you had it,” Maiken snarks. “Thief.”
“Pot, kettle. And I didn’t have it. I found it in the garden ten days ago.” The tarnish of the metal gives this more credence. “Perhaps you lost it when you were undressing in my house, with my partner.” So, yes, she does up the volume of her voice for that bit, enough for the ladies two tables over to be in no doubt regarding what’s gone down.
Maiken’s hand covers the locket and Anna slams hers on top.
“A deal’s a deal. You’ll leave Jamie and I alone.”
And then Anna leaves, her head held high, sort of, with her scone clenched in her hand. She’ll need the calories, as she has a sound kicking to administer.
ChapterThirty-One
Amazingly, her key hits the lock with sniper precision and she flings herself inside the house with a livid shout of “Jamie!” It’s an angry summons, which is her intent. For once, this is not a conflict she wants to avoid. This one she wants to face square on and shout at, nose to nose with barely an inch between, red-faced and probably with some spit flying, but she doesn’t care, because she plans to be a loudhailer of ire, a hurricane of fury.
She is met with silence. She tries again, but the result is the same. Looking around, she can’t see his boots, his big coat or his work bag. Bugger! Here she is, wound up and ready, and he isn’t bloody here to receive it.
Even so, she stomps into the kitchen to check. Who knows, he could be hiding. Anyone with an ounce of sense would know there was at least a percentage chance this could go shitwards, that she might not welcome being ambushed. She had been very clear about not wanting to talk to either Maiken or Carl. More than once. Jamie’s an intelligent guy, he couldn’t have mistaken her meaning, yet still he went ahead and set her up.
But he isn’t hiding. He really isn’t there.
There’s no message on her phone either. No “Did I do the right thing?” (absolutely not), “Am I safe to come home?” (ditto), “Surprise!” (fuck right off).
Which leaves Anna in the infuriating stance of her anger still being pending, but the adrenaline ebbing, and it’s all washed along with a wave of embarrassment and shame she’s all too familiar with already.
Her phone pings in her hand. Is it him? Her fingers grip the device more tightly than necessary but it’s an instinct thing, given the lack of his throat to grip instead.
A text message from easyJet, flagging their January promotions.
