“Is it your wife?”
“Yes. I told her I’m in Paris and it’s not a convenient time, but she’s insisting that I call her. She needs to talk about whatever it is over the phone.”
“What do you think it might be?”
“I have no idea.”
“Has she said anything about the breakup, why she wants a divorce?”
“She’s met someone else.”
“Oh dear.”
“Indeed. Oh dear.” He took two big gulps of his wine.
“But are you thinking of forgiving her and taking her back? If that’s what she wants?”
“I thought that was what I wanted, but like I said, now I’m not so sure.” He looked at her. “Don’t judge me—a person never knows what they’d do in a situation until they find themselves in it. I assume you weren’t cool and unmoved when that guy Frederic was messing with your heart?”
Bente gave a little start—she hadn’t expected that question. “Why are you so sure he was messing with my heart?”
“It’s what he does—that’s his vibe.”
Bente nodded, then smiled. “You’re right.”
Elnaz reappeared. She picked up her black coat from the back of the chair and put it on. “I’m so sorry, but I haven’t managed to sort out tomorrow. I need to get back to the hotel and see if I can fix things.”
Didrik shook his head. “Don’t do Ted’s job.”
Elnaz shrugged. “I don’t have any choice. I’m not doing it for Ted, I’m doing it for the company. You two stay and have more drinks, and give me the receipt. We’ll cover it.” Bente looked warily at Didrik—did he want to stay, now that Elnaz was leaving? They didn’t know each other very well—maybe he’d rather go back to the hotel and rest?
But he smiled at Elnaz.
“See you tomorrow, don’t stay out too late.” Elnaz winked at them both.
“We promise.” Didrik looked at Bente and held her gaze for a fraction too long. She felt a tingle run right through her body. Was it her imagination, or was he telling her something with that look?Pull yourself together, Bente. This is Didrik Holgersson—who has just opened up and told you he’s heartbroken. Plus he must have plenty of other women standing in line waiting to date him. Don’t get carried away!
The electricity between them disappeared when Didrik’s phone buzzed once more.
“Your wife again?” Should she have said ex-wife?
“Yep.” He put the phone aside and turned his attention to Bente. “How about you? You’re not in a relationship?”
She shook her head. “I’ve stayed single since I split with my ex.”
“Of course ... Henrik Eklund? FromLet’s Get Baking?”
“Exactly. Henrik.” She took another sip of her wine and gazed out across the room. “Relationships are ... tricky.”
The place had gotten even noisier, and Didrik edged his chair nearer so that he could hear her. He leaned across the small section of the table that separated them; he was right next to her now. She could smell him. An incredibly manly scent—bergamot, like a newly opened box of loose-leaf tea, leather, and citrus. She found it comparable to the most beautiful, most sensual aromas of a vintage wine.
She cleared her throat. “Especially when a person has lived alone for some time.” It was as if the words took on a fresh charge of electricity now that he was so close. “How long were you married?”
“Eight years. And we’ve been a couple for ...” He thought for a moment. “Thirteen years.”
“That’s quite a while. So how do you feel now? Are you done with women?” She rolled her eyes and gave an artificial little laugh. God, what was wrong with her? Why had she said that?
“I don’t know. I thought my wife ...” He broke off. “My ex-wife. Her name is Lovisa, by the way. I thought Lovisa was the love of my life, but that wasn’t the case. I haven’t had time to think it all through yet, but I assume I have yet to find that person.”
