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I swallow, trying to calm my flaming cheeks, make my face go neutral. He’s baiting me about this morning again. I say nothing.
He hands it back to me. “Text me when you’re done. I think I might go check out the Viking museum.”
Then he walks out of the store, holding the door open for an elderly woman who gives him the crankiest look. He shoots me another grin over her head and then leaves.
I stare at him for a moment, watching him disappear through the glass doors. If you didn’t know he was a professional bodyguard, you’d pick up on it anyway. Yes, he’s charming and a little goofy at times, definitely a rascal, but he walks with a sense of purpose and grace, like he can fight to the death and he knows it. His body is a very well-oiled machine, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, and the man doesn’t seem to show any fear. He’s all confidence.
And yet, there are times when I’ve seen his confidence waver. And there was one time when I saw the fear.
It was in bed.
With me.
When I told him I was falling for him.
I didn’t think it would be a big deal, not in the moment anyway. It was after a particularly slow and sensual round of sex. I’d just come, hard as hell and in an emotional way, and I was so loved up on endorphins, being held in his arms, feeling his heart beat, that I just blurted it out.
I mean, it wasn’t “I love you.” I didn’t love him. I wasn’t in love with him.
I was just falling for him.
That’s not the same at all.
But when I said the words…James just froze.
Literally froze.
Like I thought he died. He wasn’t even breathing.
And the look in his eyes after that was…well, it was fear. He was afraid. I opened my mouth and said something I shouldn’t have, when I was feeling very open and vulnerable, and I set him off.
So yeah, I’ve seen him be afraid.
Just sucks that I was the one that scared him.
I shake that out of my head, hating that those old feelings are being conjured up again, the feelings I did my best to forget. Rejection, bitterness, unworthiness. I push them away and then carry on in the department store, looking for cake.
Thankfully they do have cloudberry cake, so I order a small version of it, and then I peruse the makeup section, wondering if a new lipstick in red would be a nice pick-me-up. I find one that’s more expensive than it ought to be, but that’s Norway’s pricing for you.
Then I grab a taxi outside to take me to my grandmother’s home.
The care center is just to the north of town and is a bit of a drive. When I finally get there, I take a moment to appreciate the view of Oslo from up here, shining in the sun, then head in to check in with the staff.
Lisbeth, one of my favorite caretakers, is here and greets me with a shaky smile. My heart immediately drops.
“Laila,” she says to me. “I’m so glad that you’re here.”
“What happened?” I ask, hand pressed against my chest.
“Nothing,” she says quickly, though her eyes seem worried. “Here, let me take your coat.”
She takes my coat from me and hangs it up before taking me down the hall toward the wing where my grandmother resides.
“You seem worried,” I tell her, trying to slow my racing heart.
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Helge, well…she had a bad scare yesterday.”
“What happened? Why didn’t you text me?”
