6 #2
into conversations with the crew. And she’d been doing it for months, so now those conversations didn’t feel like small talk
anymore, even if he was chatting about the fucking weather, because he knew the people involved. He liked the people involved.
And he could almost...
No, he would swear that they liked him too. That they’d become not just friendly acquaintances or professional contacts, but his...
friends?
Even without Maria present, he spoke to them now, and he did so easily and often. She’d cheerfully bullied him into joining
the cast chat as well, which was sometimes an absolute shitshow—Ian Dromm was a total asshole and apparently reeked of tuna?—but
also entirely hilarious. He was actually looking forward to meeting his costars in person during various press junkets and at cons.
She’d made it impossible for him to remain petty or distant with her, and impossible to deny her the heartfelt apology she
should have received months ago. And now he’d given that apology, so he could take an easy breath in her presence for the
first time in a long, long while.
“Fortunately, that lovely thing to say is the truth.” He offered her a faint but genuine smile. “This show is lucky to have you.”
Her brown gaze watched him closely. “Even if I’m not grateful enough for the role?”
Well, damn.
For all her good cheer and social ease, Maria was as sharp as sea urchin spines and as relentless as the tides. She forgot
nothing. And as always, she was right. He admired her talent and her hard work, and he was unequivocally glad to be her costar,
but...
She wasn’t hungry in the same way he was. She didn’t need this job, or maybe any job, the way he did. From what she’d said that night in the hotel hallway, she would walk away from
the show if she decided the role no longer worked for her. Without a backward glance or a single regret.
Even without Gods of the Gates , even without an acting career, her life would remain full and happy. Her loving family and loyal friends would surround
and embrace her. Her government would financially support her until she found different work, and he suspected she’d be good
at whatever she chose to do.
But this show, this opportunity, was everything to him.
The showrunners were lucky to have her, yes. Definitely. But even so, being cast on a big-budget, blockbuster show was a privilege
the vast majority of talented actors would never receive, and one she didn’t seem to appreciate sufficiently. Not the opportunity.
Not the professional recognition. Not the money. Not the fame.
So, no, she wasn’t grateful enough. About that, he hadn’t budged.
Which meant he wasn’t answering her question, because he wasn’t a fool.
“You certainly seem to take your packing seriously.” He glanced around the room. “Have you somehow acquired more suitcases since we arrived? Or did they simply procreate in the depths of your closet?”
Her narrow-eyed stare told him she’d noticed his subject change. But after a moment, her shoulders dropped a fraction, and
she let it go.
“Since you were the one who hauled my suitcases over the threshold of this room, you know very well that I have the same number
now as I did then.” She smirked. “Also, Swedes receive very comprehensive sexual education in schools. I wholeheartedly believe
in luggage control and always practice safe packing.”
He pointedly glanced at the nearest suitcase. “If you believe in luggage control, why the hell did you bring so many bags?”
“Snacks,” she told him, unembarrassed. “Lots and lots of snacks. Three suitcases’ worth.”
What the fuck?
“You realize this isn’t an actual deserted island, right? And that the production will make sure we get fed?” He peered down
at her, befuddled. “What were you thinking?”
“I suppose I thought we might have food supply issues,” she said vaguely, then waved her hand in dismissal. “Anyway, care
to sample the contents of Sweden’s candy aisles?”
He’d prefer to taste other things belonging to Maria, but snacks were certainly safer. “Sure.”
With easy grace, she rose from the couch and disappeared into her bedroom. When she returned, she held a small yellow plastic
bag with cartoon animals on it. The bag was full of some sort of unidentifiable black candy and covered in Swedish text, and
she ripped it open.
When she held it out to him, he eyed its contents with caution. “What is this?”
“Don’t be a baby, Peter.” She shook the bag impatiently. “It’s one of the most popular candies in Sweden. Take a piece.”
Well, ten million Swedes couldn’t be wrong. Without further argument, he popped a vaguely round bit of candy in his mouth
and chewed.
Then he promptly spat that piece onto the floor, because—
“ Holy fuck! ” he shouted. “What the hell, Maria?”
“The l-look on your f-face.” She was bent over and cackling uncontrollably. “Oh, shit, the look on your face !”
There wasn’t enough sparkling water in the world, but he snatched a bottle from her minifridge anyway and drained half of
it in a single guzzle. When that didn’t do the trick, he hurried into her bathroom and rubbed a dollop of stolen toothpaste
over his tongue.
Normally, he’d spit out the toothpaste, but not today. He wasn’t risking the return of that candy’s particular flavor to his
taste buds.
“What was that—that abomination ?” He pointed accusingly at the half-chewed lump on the hardwood. “Did you poison me?”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but she was still chortling. “It’s salty licorice. Lots of Swedes love it, but most people
from other countries... not so much.”
“You live in a nation of monsters,” he informed her.
“What did I tell you earlier today, Reedton?”
Her smile bright enough to blind him, she leaned in close. So close he could smell a hint of the raspberry dessert she’d savored
at dinner and count the golden flecks in her brown eyes.
He stared, too swamped by fierce, damnable need to answer her.
“Vengeance is mine,” she whispered, then chucked him under the chin. “As you Americans say: Mess with the Pippi bull, you
get the Pippi horns, skitstovel .”
She was insane. Adorable but insane.
And it didn’t matter how much he wanted to touch her. He couldn’t.
Even disregarding his other very serious concerns, she’d already rejected him once, and once was enough. So before she could
further decimate his self-control, he gathered up the disgusting wad of candy from the floor with a stray tissue and headed
for the door.
“I’d better get packing myself, especially since my flight leaves so early,” he said. “I imagine I won’t see you tomorrow,
so...”
He didn’t reach out for a hug or a handshake, because he wasn’t stupid enough to touch her. Not when they were alone at night
in her hotel room.
“Goodbye, Maria.” Exiting her suite with all due haste, he stopped a generous distance outside her door. “Safe travels. I’ll
see you in November.”
Her knuckles bulged white where she gripped her doorframe, but her smile was as cheerful as ever. “Same to you, Peter. Hej d? .”
Farewells safely accomplished, he turned and left without another word.
He’d managed not to say that he’d miss her terribly. Good. She didn’t need to know that.
He’d rather not know it himself.