My father turned his attention back to me. He walked up and caressed my face, then pull me into a hug.
“Mi amor,” he repeated before he let me go.
“Miguel, can you show Niklas around?” my mother said, leading them down the hallway. “Caroline, can you help me in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” I said, but I could hear the uncertainty in my own voice. I wasn’t much help in the kitchen, and my mother knew that better than anyone.
My father, never much for small talk, cut straight to the point with Niklas just as my mother and I turned into the kitchen.
“So, Niklas, what kind of work do you do?”
Already?I had hoped we would avoid this subject at least until dinner was served. But as much as I wanted to stick around for the conversation, my mother guided me into the kitchen as my father led Niklas outside.
When our voices disappeared, my mother turned to me and caressed my cheek, just like my father had. And my mother didn’t waste any time, either.
“Who is this?” my mother continued. “He’s quite a surprise.”
I nodded my head slowly. “Surprise is one way to describe him.”
“But you should have told me,” said my mother.
“I told you I was bringing someone.”
My mother frowned. “Not this kind of someone. I was imagining you’d bring the person you’re staying with.”
I wasn’t going to answer that. I searched for a way to steer the conversation in another direction.
“Up until yesterday, I thought he was continuing on to Sweden right away,” I said carefully.
“And now?”
I looked out the kitchen window for a glimpse of Niklas.
“I don’t know. He’s a hockey player, and he played for the Red Wings until recently. But he’s skating with them tomorrow to see how it goes.”
My mother bit her lip. “Okay. But we have a more immediate issue.”
I searched for what this problem could be. What could explain my mother’s and my father’s expressions when Niklas stood in our hallway? A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth as the answer came to me.
“You invited Brad,” I said. My own voice sounded dull and flat.
My mother closed her eyes.
“We were hoping…” my mother’s voice faded out for a moment. “He just wanted to stop by. He’s called a few times to find out when you were coming back.”
My mother sighed. “He’ll be here any minute,” she added. “I think you should answer the door.”
I felt a familiar sensation in my stomach. I couldn’t blame my mother. This was a problem more of my own making—I should have been clear with my parents.
I had ignored Brad’s messages during our trip. Even seeing his name on my phone had pulled me out of the cocoon Niklas and I had formed. But when Niklas saw Brad’s message on my screen in the Kauai hotel room, I opened it in front of him.
It was closer to a love note than I had thought Brad was capable of, but I felt nothing except a slight aversion to the idea of seeing him again. Niklas’s feelings had been a little stronger.
My mother was watching me carefully. “I’m sorry, Caroline,” she whispered.
The doorbell rang. I walked out of the kitchen and back down the hall to the front door. I took a deep breath and turned the knob. I was going to see Brad, whether I was ready or not.
I opened the door and swallowed hard.
