All In (29 page)

Åsa served them each a slice, dripping with cheese. “I have a nice red wine in the kitchen. Do you want a glass?”

Natalia had just taken a big bite of pizza. She set down her slice and wiped her mouth. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I forgot to tell you my other news.” Her eyes danced with glee. “Not only am I a bastard, it turns out I'm pregnant, too.”

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and her shoulders shook from hysterical laughter.

Åsa set down her utensils. For all these years Natalia had just sailed calmly through life. Apparently those days were over now. “I think I'm going to skip the wine, then,” Åsa said. “I need a real drink, and then you're going to tell me everything.”

When they finished the pizza and Åsa was comfortably drunk after a couple of vodka tonics, Natalia leaned back on the sofa. She had her legs pulled up Indian-style and looked surprisingly with it considering she'd just been duped, dumped, accidentally knocked up, and then informed that she was a bastard, all in a little over a week.

Åsa downed the last of her drink. “What are you going to do now?” she asked, fishing out an ice cube and crushing it between her teeth.

“I don't know. Everything is such a mess, to put it mildly. But I don't even have the strength to fall apart. Is this hard for you, by the way? Talking about all this? I mean, you're close to my mom and, uh, Gustaf.”

“I'm fine. And I meant what I said before. I'm on your side, Nat.”

“Thanks,” Natalia said. Her phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID. “I have to take this,” she said with a crooked smile. “It's not like things can get any worse—at least there's that!”

She put her phone to her ear and listened. Åsa went out to the kitchen to mix herself another drink. When she came back Natalia was already done with the call.

“That was fast,” Åsa said. “Who was it?”

“That was J-O.” Natalia was staring straight ahead, as if she were thinking hard.

Åsa looked at the time. “What did he want?”

“J-O?”

Åsa nodded, sipping at her drink.

“Oh, he was just calling to tell me I was fired.”

41

 

T
he next morning, which was actually a totally normal Thursday morning, Natalia strolled downtown. It was nice to get out and walk, and something had loosened after yesterday's bizarre turn of events.

Yes, she was pregnant by a man whom she suspected was an unscrupulous psychopath.

Yes, she was unemployed.

And yes, she'd just learned she was an illegitimate child, the result of her mother's infidelity. And she had probably been disowned by her family.

But—and this was an important but—she was healthy, had food to eat and a roof over her head. It could actually be much worse.

She blinked behind her sunglasses and turned her face to the sun for a little while before she steered her steps toward the glass kiosk on the wharf below Berzelii Park. There were only tourists in line, and she waited patiently until it was her turn. She bought a waffle cone with strawberry ice cream and then sat down on the same bench she and David had sat on to eat hot dogs more than three weeks earlier.

She had known David Hammar for less than one month. It hadn't even been two weeks since they'd made love in BÃ¥stad. It shouldn't be possible for a person you'd known for such a short time to be so significant, to take up so much room. A man who had so coldly exploited her, used her like a game piece . . . Natalia pushed aside her pointless thoughts, which threatened her delicate and extremely fleeting sense of well-being.

Her mood changed on a dime these days. Total despair, profound grief, and choking rage were only seconds apart, and it was exhausting. On some level she understood that she was in crisis, but she didn't have
time
for a crisis. She didn't want to give up. She had to focus on what gave her strength and made her feel like she was in control, which was why she'd spent the last week—between bouts of morning sickness, attacks of vomiting, and bits of bad news—calling around to every person she'd met in her professional life from whom she could call in a favor. She'd talked to old clients, major brokers, and managers, and she had argued with every single one of them, listing the reasons why they should listen to her.

Because she was going to do everything in her power to make sure David didn't win at the general meeting. Everything would be decided there, and she would do her utmost down to the very last minute to foil his plan. The problem was that this was a well-planned hostile takeover, and he had such a big head start.

She ate her ice cream pensively, lost in her thoughts. She had never been unemployed before and had actually barely had any leisure time in her whole life. She hardly knew what to do with herself if she didn't have a job to go to. She looked up, studying the passersby. They were mostly tourists, but some seemed to be hurrying to or from work or meetings. She hadn't thought about it before, the difference in pace. A boat tooted its horn and took off from the wharf. She saw a child wave and was on the verge of waving back.

If everything went well and if she kept the baby, then she would be a mother next summer. That was completely unreal. And what would she do about the fact that she hated the child's father? Was the doctor right? Did she have to inform David? Or could she be selfish enough not to say anything? He didn't want to have kids; he'd said that himself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shadow and a quiet, “Hi.”

She'd been off in her own world.

She looked up automatically.

It was as if her thoughts had summoned him, made him materialize right in front of her. Because it was David, serious and just as handsome as ever, standing in front of her. And despite the fact that she'd just been thinking about him—or maybe that was
why
—the shock was paralyzing.

“Hi,” she said, not actually even wanting to say that, but the imprinted habits of politeness trumped all her other feelings, although she couldn't think of a single other word to say.

“Early lunch?” he said, with a questioning look at her ice cream. He was still standing, and Natalia had to tilt her head back to be able to see him properly. His sudden appearance shook her more than she'd thought was possible, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her off balance. She had been so content with her exit last Friday, but that was almost a week ago, and her reserves of strength were severely stretched.

She squinted at him, contemplating as objectively as she could the man who had hurt her more than any person had ever hurt her. Did she see something in his eyes, or was that her imagination? What was he feeling, standing there looking at her with that expression in his eyes? Pity?

“Do you want me to throw that away for you?” he asked while Natalia remained silent.

Natalia looked at what was left of her melting ice cream cone, which she'd forgotten she was still holding in her hand. She wanted to tell David Hammar that she could throw her own ice cream away and he could go to hell, but she didn't want to seem weak or vulnerable. She wanted to be strong and levelheaded, so she handed him the ice cream without a word and then watched him walk over and toss it in a trash can before he came back and sat down on the bench next to her.

Without touching her, he looked out at the water. She sat with her back upright, stiff and with her heart pounding, and just stared straight ahead without seeing anything. Why had he come here? Of all the thousands of benches in Stockholm, why did he have to sit right here?

As unobtrusively as she could, she snuck a peek sideways, at him. He had turned toward her at exactly the same time, and it was like being exposed, revealed. That penetrating look and then all the energy that was him.

She was the first to look away. The tension between them was so strong that she could hardly breathe. Or maybe she was the only one who felt it.

Maybe he didn't feel shit. Maybe he slept with people, crushed their self-esteem, and then casually sat down next to them without caring. Maybe he'd been with scores of other women while he'd been with her. Maybe she was just one among many, maybe . . . Furious tears started to well up inside her. She bit the bullet. She wasn't going to sit here and fall apart. She wanted to be cool, casual. She should go, anywhere.

“Natalia,” he began.

“What, David?” she interrupted him. Her voice was angry and sputtering, but better angry than sad was all she could think. Anything was better than sobbing. “
What
can you have to say to me?”

“I understand that you're mad,” he said, soothingly, as if she were a hysterical child, and she almost suffocated as her rage completely exploded. So, he
understood
—well, how goddamned fucking understanding of him! Natalia clenched her fists and then stretched her fingers out again, inhaled, gathered the strength she had always been able to rely on, which had carried her through her childhood and her adult life, summoned up every last bit of reserve she possessed. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. And then she did something she'd never done before. Something she used to be proud that she'd never stooped to: she laid into him. She struck and wounded him where it would hurt the most, on purpose.

“No, I'm not that mad,” she began, hearing through the roaring in her ears that she sounded downright calm even though she wasn't calm, even though she wanted to wound him and injure him. “Why should I be? You know where I come from. People like me might slum around with the dregs for a while, but I can honestly say that it didn't mean any more to me than it did to you.”

She brushed a crumb off her arm and gave him a chilly, patrician look directly copied from every single aristocrat she'd ever met. “Sleeping with you was a nice change, I agree. But honestly, David, after a bit it got to be a little, well, how can I put this, a little wearing for me. I couldn't have put up with all that for much longer anyway.”

Even before the last words had left her mouth, she knew she'd gone too far. The lie was so big, the implications so ugly. As if he was dirty, as if she'd felt revulsion.

David's face hardened. “Well, if that's how you . . . ,” he began. She saw that the words stuck in his throat. She'd never seen him angry before, not like this.

“David, I . . . ,” she began, because she already regretted it. It was beneath her to lie and belittle him. “I shouldn't have . . . ,” she said, but David seemed to have stopped listening. His whole face had actually changed. He furrowed his brow. Turmoil and attention made those harsh features even harder, and he was focusing on something that didn't have anything to do with her, but with something behind her. Reflexively, Natalia turned around. David got up off the bench, and she felt the turmoil that enveloped him now. And then without any doubt at all, Natalia saw what, or rather
who
, had made him react so powerfully.

It was her.

The beautiful blond woman from the picture that David kept in a lavish frame in his living room, a picture that Natalia had never been meant to see. The woman had longer hair and was more tanned than she'd been in the picture, but it was definitely she. She radiated joy and health as she hurried toward David on her long, attractive legs in her expensive pumps.

The woman flung her arms around David and burrowed into his embrace. The gesture was intimate, and David's arm around her was protective and loving. Natalia stared at them, forced herself to endure the pain, because it hurt. It didn't matter that she hated David. This was awful to see, and yet she couldn't look away.

“I know you asked me to stay at the café,” the woman said. She tossed her head in the direction of a café a little ways away and smiled apologetically. Her voice was gentle, and she had an accent that Natalia couldn't quite place. Her Swedish was perfect, but something in the rhythm and pronunciation suggested some other country.

The woman looked at Natalia, hesitant but not worried, as if she were secure in her role in his life. And Natalia saw what she wanted to see least of all: the love between these two people. It would have been obvious even to people who weren't looking particularly carefully, and Natalia was looking oh so very carefully. She saw a warmth in David that she hadn't seen before, a softness in his face and movements, that was like a fist in the gut.

The blond woman put her hand on David's cheek. She had long fingers with rings that sparkled the way only real stones do, and she said softly, “I missed you.” Her voice was gently reproachful when she added, “You were gone so long.”

She turned to Natalia, still with David's arm around her shoulders. She leaned a little against his chest, as if to show whom he belonged to, whom
she
belonged to. Her mouth formed a smile, but her eyes sent an unmistakable message to Natalia about ownership and obvious belonging.

“This is Natalia,” David said. His voice was stiff and uncomfortable. “And this is Carolina.”

“Hi,” Carolina said, but she didn't hold out her hand, and Natalia wasn't going to do it either, just mumbled something as she got up off the bench.

The sun burned on her back. It was hot,
too
hot. A bead of sweat ran down her back, and she felt that she would die if she didn't get something to drink now, at once. She clutched her purse tightly and looked at them one last time before walking away. Blindly. Without looking at David. She didn't say good-bye, couldn't think of anything she could have said to the couple, who excluded her as if she were no one. She hoped that she was out of earshot when the first sobs began.

 

David followed Natalia with his eyes. He watched her for far too long, couldn't stop. Her back was straight, and she looked composed, but he'd seen how shocked she'd been when Carolina showed up.

He inhaled, tried to calm himself down. She'd said she was slumming it with him, that she was tired of it, and it had felt as if the ground began to sway. And then Carolina had unexpectedly turned up. That was unlike Caro. He'd asked her to stay at the café, and she usually did what he wanted without question, but he really couldn't be angry that she'd turned up. It was just so damned complicated, all of it.

Carolina touched his forearm. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

David nodded.

“Is that her?” she asked quietly.

David stiffened. Sometimes Carolina could be very perceptive. “What do you mean?”

But he hadn't succeeded in sounding blasé. And Carolina both knew him and didn't know him. She knew everything and nothing. He pulled her into a hug again.

Carolina burrowed her nose into his chest. “I'm not used to so many people,” she murmured. “Can we go home?”

He nodded, relieved that she seemed to have dropped the subject. “Of course.”

“And David?” She glanced up. Her face was serious, and he knew right away that she wasn't going to drop this. “We need to talk,” she said.