“I know you think that’s what I do.”
“You’re doing it now,” Bente pointed out.
“I heard you did everything for theLet’s Get BakingChristmas special. You were the one who made it a success,” Didrik added.
“I don’t know about that. I mean, I did work hard, but ...”
“Elnaz, take the credit. Your situation is common knowledge in the industry. Youdon’tneed to carry on doing Ted’s job—you’re a producer, and everyone knows you’re better than him.”
“I agree with Didrik,” Bente said. It was depressing to see Elnaz still working so hard, covering up for male colleagues and doing their jobs, even now that she’d been promoted. Bente loved the fact that Didrik had noticed what was going on, and she gave him a look of mutual understanding.
“Thank you—that means a lot,” Elnaz said quietly.
Didrik’s phone buzzed. He read the message and immediately lost himself in whatever was on the screen. He sat back, gazed blankly into space. Something had upset him.
“Since we’re saying exactly what we think ...” Elnaz placed a hand on Didrik’s shoulder. “How are things with you, Didrik?” She looked genuinely concerned, but he responded only with a deep sigh.
“It was a message from Lovisa.” He cleared his throat, looked away. Then turned back to face them, took a sip of wine, and blinked several times. “Erm ...” He gave an embarrassed smile, as if he wasn’t surehis voice would hold. Once again he glanced away from them, blinking fiercely.
Bente knew exactly what he needed. She rose to her feet. “I’ll go and order more drinks.”
She came back hoping that whatever was going on, the moment had passed. But Didrik and Elnaz were sitting very close together, speaking in low voices. Elnaz had her arm around his shoulders. Had he actually been on the verge of tears?
They both looked up at Bente as she placed three glasses of wine on the table and sat down.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she ventured hesitantly. It seemed stupid not to ask, although maybe she didn’t really want to know.
Didrik shook his head. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it during our meetings today. And for being hard to get ahold of, and for almost missing the train. Things are a little difficult at home.” He rubbed his chin; Bente thought she could almost hear the rasping sound of his fingers against the stubble. “My wife and I are getting a divorce.”
Bente searched for the right words. “I’m so sorry.”
This explained a great deal. His strange behavior suddenly seemed entirely logical.
“She’s the one who wants the divorce. So that’s why I wasn’t sure about the show, and why I haven’t really been myself.” He shrugged. “You might say everything’s been upside down. And before I left home for the station the day before yesterday, she contacted me and said she wanted to meet. Out of the blue. She needed to ... talk about something. That’s why I was so late.”
Elnaz’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and apologized. “I’m sorry, I really have to take this.”
Didrik nodded as Elnaz put the phone to her ear and hurried outside.
Please don’t leave me alone with Didrik.
What the hell was she supposed to say now?
“So have you spoken to each other? Do you know what she wanted to say?” she managed eventually.
Didrik shook his head. “I wanted to catch the train. I thought whatever it was, it could wait.” He sighed. “I’ve kept hoping she’d change her mind, that’s what I was waiting for, but now ...” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want to hear what she has to say. If she wants to try again, maybe I don’t, and if it’s something else ... well ...” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“I really am sorry.”
He leaned back in his chair. “What can you say?” He rolled up his shirtsleeves, and the movement drew Bente’s attention to his forearms. He was wearing a blue dress shirt that went beautifully with his olive skin, which had acquired a slight tan after a day’s walking around Paris. She tried to imagine what would make someone decide to dump Didrik. He seemed like such a great catch. The unreliability that had bothered her had now been explained away. Now all she could think about was the fact that he was at least as nice as he appeared to be on TV.
Only a hundred times sexier.
He finished off hiscrémant, and Bente pushed the glass of red toward him as she sipped hers. A light, soft, and fruity Pinot Noir. Perfect to drink when there wasn’t anything to eat. A good snack wine.
“Thanks. Good choice—delicious.”
His phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, then turned it over.
