Page 66 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
“Not sure yet. A book or a guide. A green guide to Copenhagen, or a book of simple things people in cities can do to help the planet and offset tourism. I was thinking about the things my work has already started here in the city and how we can tell more people about them and promote their use in other cities if there’s some kind of published guide to show. Ebook, app, paperback, whatever.”
“You want to work together?”
“Aye.” He turns his face to look at her for the first time in ages, and her heartbeat increases in welcoming it. She loses herself in his eyes, but hauls herself back. His eyes drop to her lips, but he doesn’t move any closer. “I have ideas and established initiatives, you have the words and are, of course, the ‘research mastermind’.” He does the finger quotes and she lightly slaps them down for his lack of due respect.
“And you’d want it to be based on Copenhagen?”
“Initially. It’s an ideal place to start, given everything that’s already going on. I know you’ve been away for a while, and obviously it’s winter so everyone is hibernating, but come spring there are lots more projects to see. Tourist things. The green kayaks with the litter bins on the back the tourists fill in exchange for free rental? Like that. Meanwhile, we could work on the proposal, maybe talk to your editor to see what she thinks.”
There are lots of things about this that have happy bells pealing in her head, but even so, there’s a death-knell which overrides them.
“I won’t be here, though. I mean we could work on it online, but it’s not the same as being on the ground. And I won’t be coming back.”
She’s been feeling the need to say it. For clarity. Her hiatus in calling the airlineswillcome to an end and shewillget a ticket, and shewillresume her life in London.
Jamie turns his eyes back to the jigsaw, and it feels like shade on her face. “You wouldn’t want to give this a go?” he asks lightly.
“The guide?” she checks.
“Us,” he clarifies, and takes a swig of his whisky.
“Move back?” The thought is alien to her. She’s finished with the city. In all the years she lived with her mother, they never moved back to anywhere. “Always forward,” Ida would say. Holidays back to Copenhagen were always just that, holidays. Now that it got elongated, Anna is sort of seeing this trip as that.
“Maybe.” He places another jigsaw piece, now working within the frame.
Her face is not hiding her feelings very well.
“There’s the long-distance thing,” he suggests, turning back and giving her an easy look. She feels his hand gently stroke her calf. It is non-pressuring and calming, but at the same time heart rate increasing, which confuses her body.
It feels cruel to give him a flat no, though her instincts tell her it’s what’s needed. Ida would tell her so. Ida would already be packed and halfway out of the door, she corrects herself. But Jamie values talking things out, so Anna tilts her head at him and says, “That wouldn’t be very good for the environment, would it? Flying back and forth regularly. Not sure it would look good on your profile.”
“There’s the train.” He’s back to the jigsaw, keeping things chill.
“Ha! You’d be returning as soon as you arrived. Weekends aren’t long enough for that.”
“You’ve thought about it?” he asks, eyebrow raised. It looks like hope.
“No, not really, Jamie,” she says, trying to be gentle. “This was just supposed to be…” She closes her eyes, trying to find the words that won’t be too brutal, but sees there’s no way around this. “It was just Once-and-Done. Like I said. And it was mind-blowing, unforgettable, but it’s done.”
His hand stills and she sees the hurt in his eyes, immediately wanting to soothe it.
“I don’t mean that in a bad way. This, with you, has been a wonderful thing in what was a bit of a nightmare for me. But look at it from my point of view; I live in London, and I don’t want to move back. And you live here, have a great job here and a daughter who you want to be around for. Long-distance wouldn’t be great in the long run. It’s too hard; never having the hard discussions in case you spoil the short moments you’ve got, the missing each other in between, not being near when times are tough. I’ve seen it.” Well, she’s seen it on TV. Her lived experience never got to that, as Ida always left when things got tricky.
His gaze softens, and his hand resumes stroking her leg. She isn’t sure he’s aware he’s doing it. “You really can’t see yourself coming back here?”
“Really not,” she says softly. “I’ve moved on.” She pushes away the thought of her apartment and how, now he’s brought her attention to it, Danish it is. The furniture, the style, the trinkets, the single duvets on the double bed.
“The city really holds such bad memories for you?”
“They were awful times, Jamie.” She rests her head on the back of the sofa. “Some scars don’t heal, but that’s OK. They can give you the courage to change your life and move.”
The look he gives her, his wry smile, tells her he still doesn’t agree with her framing. But she doesn’t need him to.
“What is it you’re so scared of, Anna?” he asks. He’s being gentle with her now, his hand stilling, cupping her calf, and the turning of the tables makes her skin prickle.
“Scared? I’m not scared,” she says, raising her head back up. “I’m just facing the future.”
“But there could be a future here. With me.” His face is open and guileless and oh-so-handsome, but that prickling has become a bristle. Anna slides her calf out of his hand, noticing the cooling that immediately settles there. She pulls the throw over her legs, for warmth as well as defence.
