“What was your maiden name? You said your given name was French. What about your maiden name?”
Marnie paused. “I don’t see why that matters.”
“Humour me.”
She stared at him. “It was Millet,” she admitted reluctantly.
Sebastian’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He took another draw on his cigarette, exhaling into the cold night air. “You know, I’m starting to wonder if Luis bringing Reine here is such a good idea.”
“Why?” asked Marnie sharply.
There was a long pause. Sebastian was now as unwilling to give anything away as she was, Marnie realised.
“Oh, you know,” he finally replied. “Children and weddings and all that. They can get in the way.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Marnie said lightly. “I’ll have her room made up, ready for her in the morning.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Sebastian said, his face thoughtful. “You don’t need to, but I think you want to. And now I’m sitting here trying to work out why that might be.”
Marnie licked her lips. “Thanks for the cigarettes.”
He threw the rest of the pack at her. “Finish them. Luis hates smoking. He says they’re bad for me, and bad for Reine to be around.”
Marnie let the packet drop to the floor. “No, thanks. Your husband is right. They’re bad for Reine.”
* * *
When she wakes in the morning, Tom’s arms are still tight around her waist. She peels his hands from her body, and he mumbles in his sleep. She takes a shower before pulling on her now dry clothes, and when she returns to the room, he’s sitting up in bed, looking at her with soft eyes.
“Why Norway?” he asks. “Why are you headed there?”
She blushes. “Oh, I want to go to the National Gallery. That’s what I’m doing with this year... visiting all the great art museums of the world.”
“London didn’t have enough for you?” he asks wryly, and she grins.
“London doesn’t haveThe Scream.” She sits on the edge of the bed, suddenly nervous around him. “Um, it’s in Oslo. That’s where I’m going.”
A soft hand rests on her shoulder and she turns, meeting his eyes.
“Ari,” he says gently. “Don’t be frightened of me, okay?”
She blushes again, looking away from the chocolate depths of his eyes. “It’s just that, uh, I’ve never, um, done this kind of thing before.”
“The sex?” Tom asks, clearly confused.
“Well, no, I mean, I have done that, but not... not like this...” she stammers.
“Like what?”
“You know. A one-night stand.”
She hears a sigh issue from his lips, just as she feels his thumb trace her cheek. He tilts her chin up, so she’s forced to look him in the eye once more.
“You think this is a one-night stand?” he asks her, and she nods.
“Well, what else could it be?” she queries him. “I’m going to Oslo, and you’re going to...” She pauses. “Where are you going?”
“New York. That’s where I’m from. Well, this house upstate, it’s—” He stops, and clears his throat. “New York. That’s where I’m going.”
