“True,” I said. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to move to France, either.”
“Because there are no hot hockey players in France?”
“Exactly.”
I could hear my friend’s sigh over the phone line. “Look, Caroline, I think I told you this when you were here, but living away from my family and everything I grew up with is freeing, too. Lonely sometimes, but in a good way. I never would be painting the way I am with my family around, with people stopping by every day to tell me the gossip about which unaccompanied woman stopped over at which neighbor’s house. My life is in my hands, no one else’s. Moving to a new country can be a great chance to shape your life the way you want it to be. Which is what you want, I think.”
“I’d be starting over from scratch. Trying to ignore just how much of a distraction Niklas can be.”
Veronica cackled into my ear. “Glad to hear the pro-athlete reputation for extraordinary endurance isn’t just a myth.”
I felt my face heat up. How long would I be embarrassed by the way my mind wandered to sex with Niklas?
“Still there,Carolita?” Veronica asked, softer now.
I took a deep breath.
“Yep, just thinking,” I said. “It’s not only the sex that’s distracting. I think about him all the time. All the things I used to think about or want—it’s like they’ve all faded, and instead I’m thinking about a hot guy. I’m losing IQ points by the day.”
Veronica chuckled. “Welcome to being in love.”
“You mean, ‘welcome to being awomanin love,’” I corrected. “I doubt Niklas finds himself daydreaming about the way I smiled at him as he skates across the rink.”
“Have you talked to your parents about it?”
I snorted. “About all the sex?”
Veronica’s laugh rang through the phone. “About moving,Carolita.”
“A little,” I said. “My mother is still holding out for Brad.”
“Your mother should be the first person to understand,” said Veronica. “Didn’t she leave her family and move to Michigan for love?”
“Yes, she did.”
*
I tossed my shoes to the side and sat down on the little stretch of beach behind the house. Niklas sat down next to me, not touching me. I rolled up my jeans and dipped my toes in the water, staring out at the lake.
Neither of us spoke for a long time. I didn’t want to bring up any of the things that were weighing me down right now, and maybe he felt the same. Niklas had been quiet all day.
I closed my eyes in the afternoon sun. Were some things better left unsaid? Or should I voice one of the thoughts in my long list of worries? Time was running out for them. I took a deep breath and turned to Niklas.
“You know, your housekeeper is very attractive,” I said, keeping my voice light.
“You think?” he asked absently, his gaze far out onto the lake. “I usually have her come when—”
His words stopped abruptly, mid-sentence. I looked over at him, and his expression was tight. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Did you hire her?”
Niklas raised an eyebrow. “It would appear so.”
“How did you meet her?”
Niklas sat up and crossed his arms.
“Is that the question you want to ask?” he said, his voice quiet. “Or are you really asking if we have a different kind of professional relationship.”
