The Christmas music from Magnús’s phone filled the silence as Alex pressed the toe of her boot into the floor. This morning’s awkwardness was threatening to creep back in now they were alone again, and she refused to let it.
‘We should eat something. I’m starving,’ she told him.
Cooking together in their newly decorated café was as pleasant as Magnús knew it would be when she suggested they both try her toasties and milkshakes.
Alex was smiling and moving deftly around the room, while Magnús tried his best not to get in the way, but two tall and broad-shouldered people working in close proximity behind a café counter brought its own difficulties.
‘Oh, sorry,’ Alex said, having nudged Magnús hard in the stomach with her elbow while working the bread knife.
‘Ups!’ he murmured, having dropped a ball of ice cream onto the floor instead of into the milkshake glass in his efforts to prevent their bodies touching when Alex squeezed past him to get to the fridge.
In the end they’d been forced to laugh about it, and on her last sweep past to rescue the toasted sandwiches from the grill before they burned, she placed her hands fast against Magnús’s arms from behind him, making sure he didn’t suddenly step backwards into her as he plated up the chocolate squares for dessert.
He’d instinctively flexed, hardening the muscles beneath her fingers, before apologising goofily. ‘No idea why I did that,’ and they’d had to laugh to get through the weird excitement neither of them could contain.
Just being near her set off all of Magnús’s enthusiasm and brightness, and Alex responded by letting herself relax.
She loaded their food onto a tray as Magnús found cutlery and wine glasses.
‘You seem happier today. Have you heard from… anyone?’ Magnús had no idea how to end the sentence.
‘I’ve contacted them,’ Alex said, turning off the grill. ‘Everything’s sorted, for now.’
‘Hah!’ Magnús was pleased for her. ‘So you can enjoy yourself now? Call this a kind of holiday, even?’
‘I think so.’
What Magnús wanted was for her to unburden herself, to tell him all her secrets, but he wasn’t going to push her. She was happy, as though the invisible thing that had been chasing her had lost her scent and she was free to just be herself. It was heartening to see her smiling like this.
Following her through to the bookshop as she carried the tray, Magnús collected the wine bottle from beneath the branches of the Christmas tree and uncorked it to let it breathe a little. He took the opportunity to remind himself to breathe too. Why were his nerves jumping and his blood racing so much? All they were doing was sharing a meal.
‘Wine after the strawberry milkshakes, right?’ he said, watching from across the room as she settled onto the floor in front of the fire.
‘You take the armchair,’ she told him.
‘No way.’ He carried himself to her and sat cross-legged on the hearth rug, pushing the armchair a little farther away. ‘Nowthisis Christmas,’ he told her.
‘It’s a shame there’s no TV, we could’ve watched a Christmas movie,’ she said, handing him his plate.
‘There’s the shop’s laptop?’
‘No, it’s OK, let’s just sit. I can’t remember the last time I sat in front of a log fire and just did nothing.’
‘Jæja,já,já,’ he said on an inhale, nodding in agreement, wishing she’d say more.
‘What is that?’ she said, biting her sandwich and tipping her head.
‘What is what?’ Magnús froze.
‘You sort of breathe in while you’re listening to me; you sayya ya ya.’
‘You think it’s funny?’
‘No, not funny, just interesting.’
‘It’s theinnsog. Icelanders take a big breath while saying yes to encourage you to keep talking, or maybe to show you we really, really agree. Or maybe to show we justcan’t waitto agree with you so much we don’t even take time to breathe.’ He was laughing and bringing a knee up to sit more comfortably, shifting a little closer to her and not even realising he was doing it.
‘It’s nice,’ Alex said with a lift of her shoulders. ‘If I could, I would do it back. I like you talking.’
