Chapter 9
NILS
Saturday mornings were supposed to be peaceful.
I sat at my small IKEA dining table—the famous LACK series, which was ridiculously easy to assemble, even for me—with a cup of coffee and my phone, staring at the instruction manual for the KALLAX shelving unit.
The morning light filtered through the windows of my modest apartment, highlighting the Swedish minimalism I’d surrounded myself with.
Everything clean, everything organized, everything exactly as it should be.
Except for my thoughts, which had been anything but organized since yesterday’s practice. I’d never been more aware of anyone in my entire life. Every look, every touch, every snippet of dialogue between us had been torture of the sweetest kind.
And that moment when our faces had been so close, when I had wanted nothing more than to kiss him…
My cheeks heated at the memory. He’d picked up on it, that much I was certain of. Maybe not about me being attracted to him—herregud, I hoped so—but he’d definitely noticed something was different between us. That I had been different.
I needed to stop thinking about it, about him. Maybe another attempt at furniture assembly would help. Surely, I’d learned something from watching Adan do it, right?
I took another sip of coffee and opened the KALLAX instructions, spreading the diagrams across the table. Sixteen individual cubes that could be arranged in a four-by-four configuration. How complicated could it be?
The answer, apparently, was very.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on my living-room floor surrounded by wooden panels, metal hardware, and what seemed like an unreasonable number of small plastic pieces whose purpose was unclear.
The instruction manual—and could it be called that when it only contained pictures and not actual words?
I needed words, dammit!—showed cheerful cartoon figures assembling the unit with apparent ease. Lies. All lies.
My phone buzzed with a text from Floris.
Floris
FaceTime in 10? Greg’s finally free and Tore’s between classes.
Me
Perfect. I’m in the middle of furniture assembly hell.
Floris
IKEA?
Me
Obviously.
Floris
Can’t wait to see this disaster, LOL
I cleared some space on the coffee table for my laptop and attempted to make sense of the pieces spread around me. Panel A was supposed to connect to Panel B using Hardware Q, but Panel A seemed to be missing the necessary holes for Hardware Q to fit through.
Or maybe I was holding Panel A upside down.
Or maybe this was actually Panel D.
By the time my laptop chimed with the incoming FaceTime call, I was questioning my ability to complete any task more complex than making coffee.
“There he is!” Tore’s voice filled my living room as three familiar faces appeared on the screen. “The crown prince of Swedish furniture assembly.”
“Technically, I’m not the crown prince of anything.” I settled cross-legged on the floor with my laptop balanced on the coffee table. “And welcome to Buffalo’s latest art installation: ‘IKEA Gone Wrong.’ Brought to you by Nils Anders, assistant hockey coach.”
“Oh my god.” Floris laughed, taking in the chaos behind me. “What is that supposed to be?”
“KALLAX shelving unit. Sixteen cubes, allegedly simple assembly.”
“Allegedly being the key word,” Greg said from his corner of the screen. He looked tired, probably another long day of royal obligations. “Are you actually following the instructions, or are you doing that thing where you assume you know better than the manual?”
“I’m following the instructions.” I held up the booklet. “Although instructions are too generous a term for what is nothing more than a glorified coloring book. These drawings were made by sadists.”
“You could make a royal decree that IKEA needs to make better instructions,” Greg told me. “What good is being a prince if you can’t use that privilege?”
I snorted. These guys never failed to make me laugh. “So what’s new with everyone?” I asked, reaching for my coffee. “How are things in your respective corners of North America?”
“Good,” Floris said. “Really good, actually. Orson and I are still nauseatingly happy, as my brother calls it.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, meaning it. Floris had been hesitant about relationships after some difficult experiences, and seeing him happy with Orson had been a relief to all of us.
“How about you, Tore? How’s Farron?”
Tore’s entire face lit up at the mention of his boyfriend’s name. “He’s amazing. We’re planning to spend winter break together in Norway.”
“Your parents are okay with that?”
“They love him. Mom keeps asking when I’m bringing him back for another visit.”
The easy way Tore talked about his relationship, the casual mention of bringing Farron home for Christmas, and the obvious happiness in his voice all made me feel somehow hollow inside. Not with jealousy, but with a kind of longing I hadn’t expected.
“What about you, Greg?” I asked. “Any interesting developments in your life?”
Greg’s expression became carefully neutral, the way it always did when we touched on anything personal. “Same as always. Royal duties, public appearances, trying to stay out of the tabloids.”
We all knew there was more to Greg’s story, but he’d share when he was ready. That was how our friendship worked, with unconditional support, no pressure.
“Has anyone recognized you, Nils?” Floris asked. “I haven’t seen any mentions online yet.”
The thought of him keeping an eye out for me made me warm inside. “No, no recognition issues. Thank goodness Rideau agreed to keep my royal background confidential when Millard called for references.”
“Smart thinking ahead,” Tore said. Then his face tightened and he cleared his throat. “Did you, erm, see Alexandra’s announcement yesterday?”
Alexandra? “What do you mean?”
“The Danish royal family announced the engagement of Prince Gottfried to Alexandra.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. “I didn’t see that.”
“Gottfried’s a dick, so they’re well matched,” Floris said with his characteristic Dutch bluntness. “They deserve each other.”
I had to swallow again before I could speak. “It seems she got her wish of marrying a prince, then.”
“Good riddance,” Greg said firmly. “You deserve someone who loves you for who you are, not what you represent.”
I did, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt as hell, knowing that she’d flat-out used me. “Well, if Gottfried is content with his limited role in her life as arm candy and door opener, best of luck to him.”
“Amen to that,” Tore said. “There’s someone far better out there for you. I never liked her anyway.”
He hadn’t and neither had the others, which should’ve been a major red flag all in itself.
“Speaking of which,” Floris said, as always adept at diffusing tension, “has anyone caught your eye yet there? Come on, you’ve been there for a while now. You must’ve noticed someone.”
The question caught me off guard, and heat crept up my neck. “I’m not here to date. I’m here to coach hockey.”
“That’s not an answer,” Tore pointed out.
“Farron’s corrupted you,” I said, trying to deflect. “You’ve become a romantic.”
“Farron’s opened my eyes to a lot of things,” Tore said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “Including the fact that love isn’t something you plan for. It happens. And when it does, you don’t fight it.”
Something about the way he said it, the obvious contentment in his voice when he talked about Farron, triggered recognition. Because I did know what he meant. I’d felt that pull, that unexpected awareness.
“Actually,” I heard myself saying, “I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, surprising all of us and me most of all. I hadn’t planned to say it, but it had just slipped off my lips.
“Really?” Floris said, his voice surprisingly gentle for someone who was usually so direct. “That’s wonderful, Nils. What brought this on?”
“I…” I paused, unsure how to explain without giving away too much. “I’ve been attracted to men before, like my roommate in college, but I always thought those were flukes since I’ve only been with women. Lately, though, I’ve been more aware of it. More honest with myself about what I’m feeling.”
“Anyone in particular?” Greg asked, and if anyone understood how complicated this all was, it was him.
We all knew he was gay. Not bi, but gay.
But no one else did, least of all his family.
He feared their reaction too much to come out.
It broke my heart that, even in this day and age, he still could not be himself.
At least I would never have to worry about that. My aunt, my dad’s sister, was a lesbian and happily married to her long-time partner, and everyone was fine with it. I had no doubts they would fully accept my bisexuality.
“Someone I can’t pursue,” I said carefully. “Someone where it would be inappropriate.”
“Why inappropriate?” Tore asked.
“Professional reasons. There are boundaries I can’t cross.”
“Boundaries can be navigated,” Floris pointed out. “Especially if the feelings are mutual.”
Mutual? I almost laughed at the suggestion that Adan would be attracted to me. “They’re not, but even if they were, it wouldn’t matter.”
“Why not?” All three of them said it simultaneously, which would’ve been funny under different circumstances.
“Because it’s the right thing to do. There are power dynamics involved, professional considerations. I can’t compromise my ethics.”
“But you’re attracted to him,” Greg said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” I could admit that much. Lying about that was futile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.”
“Nils,” Tore said gently, “life is short. And love—or whatever this is—doesn’t come around that often. Are you sure you want to ignore it?”
Love? Boy, was he getting ahead of himself there. Had to be his happiness with Farron that made him see love everywhere. “This is not love. It’s mere attraction, that’s all. And I’m not ignoring it. I’m talking to you guys about it, aren’t I? I’m being responsible about it. Like an adult.”
“There’s a difference between being responsible and being a coward,” Floris said.
I bristled. “I’m not being a coward. I’m being professional.”
The conversation was making me uncomfortable, partly because they were asking questions I didn’t have good answers for, and partly because talking about my attraction to Adan—even without naming him—made it feel more real than I’d been prepared for.
“Can we talk about something else?” I asked. “Like how I’m apparently incapable of assembling Swedish furniture despite being Swedish?”
“Nice deflection,” Tore said with a knowing smile. “But fine, we’ll drop it. For now.”
“Thank you.”
“But Nils?” Floris added. “We’re proud of you for being honest with yourself. And with us. That takes courage.”
“And if you change your mind about not acting on it,” Tore said, “we’re here to talk you through it.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
We spent the next hour catching up on less complicated topics—Greg’s upcoming state visit to France, Floris’s classes, Tore’s soccer season—while I made minimal progress on the KALLAX unit.
By the time we ended the call, I had managed to assemble exactly four panels into something that might generously be called the beginning of a shelf.
After they signed off, the house felt oddly quiet. I sat on the floor surrounded by the remaining pieces, thinking about what I’d revealed and what it meant.
I was bisexual. I’d said it out loud, made it real, acknowledged what I’d been avoiding for years. And it felt right. Like a piece of myself I’d been denying had finally been allowed to exist.
But saying it and acting on it were two very different things.
I picked up two more panels and tried to figure out how they connected, but I couldn’t stop thinking about my next session with Adan.
I’d told my friends I wouldn’t act on my attraction to him, and I’d meant it.
But sitting there in my IKEA-furnished living room, holding Swedish furniture pieces I couldn’t seem to fit together, I wondered if avoiding my feelings would prove as complicated as assembling this damn shelving unit.
And just as likely to leave me with a mess I didn’t know how to clean up.