Chapter 14 #2
“I heard you did everything for the Let’s Get Baking Christmas special. You were the one who made it a success,” Didrik added.
“I don’t know about that. I mean, I did work hard, but . . .”
“Elnaz, take the credit. Your situation is common knowledge in the industry. You don’t need to carry on doing Ted’s job—you’re a producer, and everyone knows you’re better than him.”
“I agree with Didrik,” Bente said. It was depressing to see Elnaz still working so hard, covering up for male colleagues and doing their jobs, even now that she’d been promoted. Bente loved the fact that Didrik had noticed what was going on, and she gave him a look of mutual understanding.
“Thank you—that means a lot,” Elnaz said quietly.
Didrik’s phone buzzed. He read the message and immediately lost himself in whatever was on the screen. He sat back, gazed blankly into space. Something had upset him.
“Since we’re saying exactly what we think . . .” Elnaz placed a hand on Didrik’s shoulder. “How are things with you, Didrik?” She looked genuinely concerned, but he responded only with a deep sigh.
“It was a message from Lovisa.” He cleared his throat, looked away. Then turned back to face them, took a sip of wine, and blinked several times. “Erm . . .” He gave an embarrassed smile, as if he wasn’t sure his voice would hold. Once again he glanced away from them, blinking fiercely.
Bente knew exactly what he needed. She rose to her feet. “I’ll go and order more drinks.”
She came back hoping that whatever was going on, the moment had passed. But Didrik and Elnaz were sitting very close together, speaking in low voices. Elnaz had her arm around his shoulders. Had he actually been on the verge of tears?
They both looked up at Bente as she placed three glasses of wine on the table and sat down.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she ventured hesitantly. It seemed stupid not to ask, although maybe she didn’t really want to know.
Didrik shook his head. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it during our meetings today.
And for being hard to get ahold of, and for almost missing the train.
Things are a little difficult at home.” He rubbed his chin; Bente thought she could almost hear the rasping sound of his fingers against the stubble. “My wife and I are getting a divorce.”
Bente searched for the right words. “I’m so sorry.”
This explained a great deal. His strange behavior suddenly seemed entirely logical.
“She’s the one who wants the divorce. So that’s why I wasn’t sure about the show, and why I haven’t really been myself.
” He shrugged. “You might say everything’s been upside down.
And before I left home for the station the day before yesterday, she contacted me and said she wanted to meet.
Out of the blue. She needed to . . . talk about something. That’s why I was so late.”
Elnaz’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and apologized. “I’m sorry, I really have to take this.”
Didrik nodded as Elnaz put the phone to her ear and hurried outside.
Please don’t leave me alone with Didrik.
What the hell was she supposed to say now?
“So have you spoken to each other? Do you know what she wanted to say?” she managed eventually.
Didrik shook his head. “I wanted to catch the train. I thought whatever it was, it could wait.” He sighed.
“I’ve kept hoping she’d change her mind, that’s what I was waiting for, but now .
. .” He ran his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want to hear what she has to say.
If she wants to try again, maybe I don’t, and if it’s something else .
. . well . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“I really am sorry.”
He leaned back in his chair. “What can you say?” He rolled up his shirtsleeves, and the movement drew Bente’s attention to his forearms. He was wearing a blue dress shirt that went beautifully with his olive skin, which had acquired a slight tan after a day’s walking around Paris.
She tried to imagine what would make someone decide to dump Didrik.
He seemed like such a great catch. The unreliability that had bothered her had now been explained away.
Now all she could think about was the fact that he was at least as nice as he appeared to be on TV.
Only a hundred times sexier.
He finished off his crémant, and Bente pushed the glass of red toward him as she sipped hers. A light, soft, and fruity Pinot Noir. Perfect to drink when there wasn’t anything to eat. A good snack wine.
“Thanks. Good choice—delicious.”
His phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, then turned it over.
“Is it your wife?”
“Yes. I told her I’m in Paris and it’s not a convenient time, but she’s insisting that I call her. She needs to talk about whatever it is over the phone.”
“What do you think it might be?”
“I have no idea.”
“Has she said anything about the breakup, why she wants a divorce?”
“She’s met someone else.”
“Oh dear.”
“Indeed. Oh dear.” He took two big gulps of his wine.
“But are you thinking of forgiving her and taking her back? If that’s what she wants?”
“I thought that was what I wanted, but like I said, now I’m not so sure.” He looked at her. “Don’t judge me—a person never knows what they’d do in a situation until they find themselves in it. I assume you weren’t cool and unmoved when that guy Frederic was messing with your heart?”
Bente gave a little start—she hadn’t expected that question. “Why are you so sure he was messing with my heart?”
“It’s what he does—that’s his vibe.”
Bente nodded, then smiled. “You’re right.”
Elnaz reappeared. She picked up her black coat from the back of the chair and put it on. “I’m so sorry, but I haven’t managed to sort out tomorrow. I need to get back to the hotel and see if I can fix things.”
Didrik shook his head. “Don’t do Ted’s job.”
Elnaz shrugged. “I don’t have any choice.
I’m not doing it for Ted, I’m doing it for the company.
You two stay and have more drinks, and give me the receipt.
We’ll cover it.” Bente looked warily at Didrik—did he want to stay, now that Elnaz was leaving?
They didn’t know each other very well—maybe he’d rather go back to the hotel and rest?
But he smiled at Elnaz.
“See you tomorrow, don’t stay out too late.” Elnaz winked at them both.
“We promise.” Didrik looked at Bente and held her gaze for a fraction too long.
She felt a tingle run right through her body.
Was it her imagination, or was he telling her something with that look?
Pull yourself together, Bente. This is Didrik Holgersson—who has just opened up and told you he’s heartbroken.
Plus he must have plenty of other women standing in line waiting to date him. Don’t get carried away!
The electricity between them disappeared when Didrik’s phone buzzed once more.
“Your wife again?” Should she have said ex-wife?
“Yep.” He put the phone aside and turned his attention to Bente. “How about you? You’re not in a relationship?”
She shook her head. “I’ve stayed single since I split with my ex.”
“Of course . . . Henrik Eklund? From Let’s Get Baking?”
“Exactly. Henrik.” She took another sip of her wine and gazed out across the room. “Relationships are . . . tricky.”
The place had gotten even noisier, and Didrik edged his chair nearer so that he could hear her.
He leaned across the small section of the table that separated them; he was right next to her now.
She could smell him. An incredibly manly scent—bergamot, like a newly opened box of loose-leaf tea, leather, and citrus.
She found it comparable to the most beautiful, most sensual aromas of a vintage wine.
She cleared her throat. “Especially when a person has lived alone for some time.” It was as if the words took on a fresh charge of electricity now that he was so close. “How long were you married?”
“Eight years. And we’ve been a couple for . . .” He thought for a moment. “Thirteen years.”
“That’s quite a while. So how do you feel now? Are you done with women?” She rolled her eyes and gave an artificial little laugh. God, what was wrong with her? Why had she said that?
“I don’t know. I thought my wife . . .” He broke off. “My ex-wife. Her name is Lovisa, by the way. I thought Lovisa was the love of my life, but that wasn’t the case. I haven’t had time to think it all through yet, but I assume I have yet to find that person.”
“So you still believe in true love?”
“I’m way too much of a hopeless romantic to believe anything else. I refuse to accept that this was my one chance, and now it’s gone. My actual true love must be out there somewhere.”
Bente smiled. Of course that was what he thought. After all, he was Didrik Holgersson, everybody’s darling. At the same time, there was something incredibly charming about that way of thinking.
“And you?”
She waited for a while before answering.
The adult relationships that had shaped her life, and that had to a great extent been her role models for adult love, had all been deficient in one way or another.
Aunt Lydia’s husband had left her when Uno was little more than a newborn, and Bente’s parents, who’d seemed to have everything—they’d loved each other—had also separated from one another in the most brutal fashion.
If Bente had learned anything about love, it was that however fantastic and true it might be, it was never enough.
“Maybe I don’t think it’s that simple, that there’s one forever person for every one of us.” Saying she didn’t believe in true love seemed much too dramatic.
Didrik inhaled sharply, adopting a theatrical expression of horror. “Ouch.” He placed one hand on his heart. “You’ve just destroyed everything I’ve ever believed in.”
She laughed. “Sorry. Of course I’m sure that your one true love is out there somewhere.” She meant it. Didrik had charm and charisma. It wouldn’t be long before he was in a wonderful, loving relationship again.