She grinned up at him. ‘I can’t wait.’
Perhaps he was driving himself mad for no reason? A slip of the tongue wasn’t a declaration of intent, a subconscious way of Lotta moving away from thinking of the cabin as theirs. But that, coupled with the fact he’d felt the distance between them over the past couple of weeks, was unnerving. He was so used to living his life without having to consider someone else, he wondered if that was why he took these things to heart. Read more into everything than was there.
‘I can’t wait to show you. I think you’ll love it.’ He’d built a bed frame in the extension and bought a deep memory foam mattress that would make the cosiest bed in the world. A smallpart of the wall next to the stove had been chopped out so that its warmth would spread more easily to the bedroom next door. In the lounge, he had built a vestibule around the front door with space for boots and coats, so that the cabin didn’t instantly freeze the moment the door was opened. He was so happy with it. It felt like a proper little home. All that was missing was Lotta.
It took half an hour or so to get back to Lotta’s flat. It was on the first floor of a Victorian terraced house in a long residential street, and different to what he’d imagined. So different from Oslo.
‘This is lovely,’ he said, stepping into the lounge which was also the kitchen, and also Lotta’s home office, by the looks of things.
‘It’s small,’ she said, apologetically.
‘No, it’s perfect. Exactly the kind of place I imagined. It’s cosy and there are so many things that make it yours.’
‘Your place is so sleek and tidy.’
‘Soulless.’
‘Luxurious.’
He laughed. ‘We’ll have luxurious again at some point once Becca gets her hands on the farmhouse.’
‘Shall we go out for food?’
‘Sure, I’m happy to do anything you like.’ He hadn’t thought the first thing they would do would be get food and tried not to add it to theour cabin/the cabinsituation and come up with something worse.
‘There’s a place near Covent Garden that has street food, a bit like the place in Oslo.’
‘Sounds good.’
They walked back to the Tube station, holding hands, although Mats couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. But once they were in the Seven Dials Market sipping on beers while they waited for their food, he relaxed. He’d beenimagining it, looking for signs that something was wrong and latching onto things that meant nothing.
‘Have you thought what you’ll do about marketing?’ Lotta asked him.
‘Not really.’ It was the truth because he hadn’t thought about it beyond hoping she might offer to do it. She’d be perfect. Just like Becca, who had instinctively known what his vision for the island was before he had to explain, Lotta understood the place. Understood what he wanted to do with it and he knew she would do an amazing job if he asked her to take him on as a client.
The problem was, even aside from the money, if he asked her to work for him, would she see it as him doing her a favour or worse, as an attempt to get her to commit to a move to Norway? He didn’t feel they were on solid enough ground right now to risk him getting it wrong and driving her away. With her career taking off, she might see it as him trying to pull her back, away from the bright lights her future held and towards a quieter existence with him.
They’d agreed to take things a step at a time. The next step he wanted to suggest was that she visit Loddefjord in a couple of weeks at the same time as Anders and Becca and maybe that would be the time to broach the subject of her taking the island on as a proper project. Their situation wasn’t that different from the one Anders and Becca were negotiating, and it might give them both a new perspective on how they could make things work.
‘You should probably look into getting something going. It’d be a great way to establish a following to show the progress of the build. Maybe think about getting some professional photos done?’
‘That’s a good idea.’ She hadn’t offered her services. He had to take it as a clear sign she wanted to keep her business and their relationship separate, and who could blame her after whathad happened when the two had become mixed up before? He’d look for someone else to help.
He got up to collect their food when the buzzer went off. It felt good to be in the city, although London had a different vibe to Oslo. It was much busier, more hurried, the people less patient, but the choice of everything from places to eat, shows to see, museums and monuments to visit, was incredible.
‘This samosa is insane,’ Lotta said.
He nodded, his mouth too full of deliciousness to speak straight away. He tapped his fist against his chest.
‘You need to slow down,’ Lotta said, grinning at him.
‘It’s so good. This is the only place I’m interested in eating at every time I come to London now.’
‘You’ll come again?’ The way she asked told him she’d thought perhaps this was a one-off.
‘Of course. It doesn’t have to be you doing all the running around for us. I know I said it would be difficult to get away, but I also know, after spending more time on the island, that it’s important to leave it sometimes.’
‘Are you worried about becoming a hermit?’ Her eyes glinted.
