His words faded out. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and rested his forehead on one, large scarred hand. “Tom says there might be a spot for me on the Red Wings. If I play it right.”
Whoa. I froze in my chair. “What happened? Why the change?”
“That’s a long conversation,” he said tightly. “Let’s focus on the part about us right now.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Why the hell did you keep that from me?”
“Because I want you to come to Sweden with me,” he said flatly. “I thought if you knew that option first, you would be less likely to say yes.”
“Want to know what really makes me less likely to go?”
“Finding out I kept that part from you?”
“Yep.”
The waitress chose the lull in the conversation to approach the table. I watched Niklas order. He managed to fully compose himself in a matter of seconds, while I could feel my cheeks burn with anger and hurt. I looked down at the menu, trying to concentrate on the words in front of me.
I ordered, and the waitress left us in silence.
Niklas’s gaze was fixed on the table, his eyes dark and brooding. How had the conversation spiraled out of control so quickly? I had avoided the topic of our future, but now everything had come spilling out, all at once, too suddenly for us to gently find our way to each other. The topic had jumped so easily to an impasse, as if we’d instinctually known it was there.
The lines on his forehead, his surprisingly long lashes, and the tension in the thick muscles of his arms all called to something deep inside me. I reached across the table and rested my hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at me, either.
“Niklas, my life wasn’t terrible back in Detroit. I had a relationship that was okay and a job that was okay and some friends, but I wasn’t happy. It took all of me to do something about it.”
Niklas nodded, but he still didn’t meet my eyes. “When you left Detroit, were you planning to go back to that lawyer when your trip ended?”
“Brad? I don’t know.” I sighed. “Maybe. But that’s not going to happen now.”
Niklas lifted his gaze, frowning. “What we have isn’t enough?”
The hurt in his voice brought back the twist in my gut I had tried to ignore all day.
I swallowed. “Right now my heart is telling me to do whatever it takes for us to be together. Run away to Sweden, whatever. But I think that would be a bad start for a life together.”
“Why, Caroline? Why is this a bad start?” he growled, no longer holding back. “You’re what I want. That’s why I followed you to the Stockholm airport, and that’s why I’m sitting right here.”
I looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. “But falling in love doesn’t make people happy for the rest of our lives.”
He threw up his arms. “Why the hell can’t it?”
“There are other things that people need, too. Career, stability…” I closed my eyes, trying to bite back the tide of frustration that grew, threatening to drown out our connection. “This has nothing to do with what you’re offering,” I continued, my voice breaking. “You already have a path, a direction. But I’m just figuring that part out for myself.”
I took a couple breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart. The lines on his forehead grew deeper, and I gentled my voice. “I can’t just follow you, Niklas. The idea strikes at all my feelings of self-worth.”
The corners of his mouth tugged down.
“I followed you,” he said, so simply and quietly.
“It’s not the same,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything. I swallowed and laid down my last card.
“Niklas, what would have happened if you had fallen in love with someone back in Sweden right when you signed with the Red Wings, right as your career was taking off?”
Niklas froze. “Is that how you feel?”
I bit my lip.
