Page 31 of A Copenhagen Snowmance

“Anna!” She hears her name from behind her and looks over her shoulder. A man is staring at her, at them. It takes a moment to place him, because it’s been a while, the context is off and most of his head is swaddled in scarf and hat.

“Morten. Hej,” she says. He’s Carl’s cousin. Having known him for many years, he is also, in Anna’s estimation, an arse.

Morten does a very good job of being totally unsubtle in sizing Jamie up. Or perhaps he’s checking him out. Either is possible if Anna recalls correctly.

“Are you back?” he asks, not taking his eyes off Jamie. Neither he nor Anna move in for a hug.

“Clearly,” Anna says. She feels Jamie’s hand slide up her back to rest on her shoulder. It’s protective rather than possessive. He must recognise she isn’t thrilled to see him. But it reminds her of her manners.

“Morten, this is Jamie; Jamie, Morten, Carl’s cousin.” She deliberately doesn’t explain who Jamie is, because she doesn’t want to. Nor is it any of Morten’s business, now she thinks of it.

“Carl know you’re here?” It’s a bit of a sneer. He certainly hasn’t said, “Nice to see you.”

“He does,” she says with a tight smile. “No need to ring him.” Morten’s smile is equally tight at the insinuation. She doesn’t know why. He’s generally known as a gossip. He rather fancies himself as the fountain of salacious knowledge among his friends, like a walking Popbitch.

“You pulled quite the stunt on him there,” he says. She tilts her head at this, not wanting to be drawn. “Throwing his belongings onto the street,” he clarifies.

She takes the bait. “I knew what you meant. I was questioning who was pulling the stunts. Cheating doesn’t rank highly in your book, then?”

“Maiken? We thought you were OK with it,” he says with a shrug.

“The two of you had been together so long, opening the relationship sounded like you wanted some variety again.” Anna feels like she’s been punched.

There are various things to address there, although she knows she should walk away.

She doesn’t want to be arguing in the street, making a scene.

And particularly not with Morten. But she has to ask, “We?”

There’s delight in his eyes and she knows she’s feeding his snidery. Why didn’t she just walk away?

“The family. We’d been talking about it for a while. Was it an official throuple? No one quite knew, though Annette didn’t think you’d be up for full-time polyamory.”

Annette? Carl’s mother!

The blood is slowly draining from Anna’s face. His family had welcomed her, and she’d embraced them and now she hears they were discussing the affair before she even knew about it. This is worse than her nightmares had painted. It also shows Carl had been less than discreet.

Again, she can’t stop herself from asking, because she’s never really found out and it’s gnawed at her for a long time.

“When was this?”

Morten immediately sees she’s fishing for a timeline.

“Ah, probably some party you didn’t attend. You missed lots with your travels. You’ll have to ask Carl.”

He looks at his watch, as if she’s been detaining him. Why hadn’t he just walked on and ignored her? She wishes he had.

Her entire night will now be spent running through all of the last family events, working out which she’d missed and how far it could have gone back.

She thinks of the get-togethers just before she found out, where his family must have known, but chose not to give her even a hint.

That the women had sided with Carl over any kind of sisterly tip-off.

Perhaps they thought they were minding their own business and shouldn’t intrude. Either sucks.

She’ll drive herself mad with it, thinking about his family discussing it behind her back.

Even his mother! Lovely Annette whom she thought liked her.

Not enough to warn her or give her son a swift boot to the backside, obviously.

And then them all dissecting it later after Anna had kicked him to the kerb.

She’d always found it strange that Annette hadn’t reached out to her in any way.

But then again, Anna hadn’t reached out to her, either.

Oh, and she’d fled the country. Dammit. Not fled.

She’d removed herself. Anna mentally admonishes herself to stick to her guns. Jamie’s not right on this.

As if he’s heard her thinking of him, Anna suddenly feels Jamie’s lips on her hair as he presses an obvious kiss on her and says, “We’ve got to go, skat.

” The sound of him calling her “treasure” is like a balm, and it’s the easiest thing to lean into his kiss and into his steady frame.

The widening of Morten’s eyes is a joy to behold.

Which is what makes her turn to look up into Jamie’s face, with what she hopes is a private smile, as she flicks her eyes from his to his lips, and then letting the smile spread wider, in joy of beholding his gorgeous face.

She feels like her own face is shining on his, and she’s thrilled to see it reflected back at her.

They are so good at this! Morten’s getting the full treatment.

Perfectly in tune, they lean their faces together and give each other a small soft kiss; subtle and delicate, the kiss of two people at ease with each other, not that of two rampant teens, although Anna wouldn’t be averse to trying one of those, too.

She restrains herself, though, keen for Morten to have a clear report to share of her moving on and in a sophisticated fashion, not in a hot mess, snogging in the street kind of way. The art is in the execution.

Holding Jamie’s “smitten” gaze – so good and swoony, she really does have to give him props for his skills – for a long moment, she turns back to Morten as if she’s just remembered he’s there.

“Vi ses,” she says and pulls Jamie away, as if they have only seconds left to get home and into bed. She doesn’t say she’s pleased to have seen him or send her love to the family, because of course, she wouldn’t mean a word of it.

Reaching the end of the street though, still under Jamie’s “for show” arm and having checked Morten is long gone, the reality of it hits her.

Not so much that this is all fake and that she hasn’t in fact moved on, but that the gossip she’d been worried about was true, the humiliation she’d felt was justified.

In fact, it’s been worse than she thought, and she’s thought plenty of wild things.

Anna feels her eyes begin to sting, and pulls in a sniff, but it’s too late.

A tear has started its slow descent down her cheek, echoing the lowering of her mood.

She swipes the tear way with her palm, but there’s already another in its place.

“Hey,” Jamie says, stopping them. “Anna?”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. Just the cold wind in my eyes,” she tries. The air is still this evening.

He doesn’t argue, though. He simply pulls her into him, like he did in the cemetery, and wraps his arms around her, holding tight.

She isn’t sobbing this time, more weepy, but she feels silly for crying so much around him.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he sways them slightly back and forth and says, “He was a dick, Anna. I don’t even know him and I can see that. Don’t let him get to you.”

Easier said than done, she thinks, but nods into Jamie’s chest. The smell of him comforts her. Right here, right now, she feels safe and grounded. She hasn’t felt that in a long time.

“OK?” he asks after a while.

With an admittedly unattractive sniff, she pulls back and gives him a flat smile in agreement.

“Good,” says Jamie, cradling her face, and wiping the tear traces with his thumbs.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to tell me every embarrassing thing Morten has ever done in your presence, all the way home.

We will annihilate him and then I’m going to make us hot chocolate.

” That sounds quite good, she thinks, keen now to crawl into her bed and sleep.

It’s amazing how he knows what she needs right now, Anna notes as he leads her arm in arm down the street, which just makes it sadder that they’ve met in the wrong place at the wrong time and their planets simply can’t align.