Sudden death, it will say in my postmortem.
“Martin Olesen, of course.”
For heaven’s sake, how could I be so stupid? Why did I not delete this freaking app after I started fake-dating Erik?
I notice Thomas’s confused face for the first time since he started breaking me into pieces. “What’s happening here, Sol?”
I stand up, moving my chair back noisily. Now all the blood is back in my veins, pumping with full speed. “Please don’t tell Martin what I told you about Erik.”
If Thomas is Martin’s good friend, Martin will know I was here today. If Thomas also reveals what I told him about never being a couple...
“What did you tell me today about Erik?” His eyes are huge.
I rub my forehead and take a deep breath, struggling for self-control. “Forget about it.”
I’m getting up again, but he holds my arm on the table, stopping me. “No, wait. I understand now. Erik was your boyfriend. No, your non-boyfriend,” he corrects himself.
“You can’t tell Martin we had this conversation. You can’t tell him, or Erik, that I was here. Please.” I put my hands together to beg.
“I already told Martin I was coming on a date with you today...” Thomas says with a weak voice, looking down.
“You did what?” Oh geez. Is Thomas Hansen the one who’s going to ruin my life?
No. That credit is all mine.
“We’re very close, so I mentioned I was finally moving on, you know...after my breakup. Martin was very encouraging, especially after I showed him your profile.”
HOLY CRAAAAB CAKES.
Bastard. Scheming son of a donkey.
I close my eyes tight, tears of anger attempting to leak through my lids.
Then I stop humiliating myself. I rise, take my purse, and storm out of the café.
Eighteen
I wake up to the seductive smell of pancakes.
After a restless night where I skipped dinner and went right to bed, my stomach gives a happy leap when I enter the kitchen and see a shirtless Erik in jogging pants making my favorite breakfast in his expensive frying pan.
“Good morning,” I say, sounding sleepy, but my body is fully awake, pumping blood into my veins at a frantic pace.
It’s so wonderful to have him back.
And it becomes even better when he turns his head and gives me a big, sincere smile.
“Good morning, Sol.” He turns a pancake, and my gut jumps again. Holy Mjölnir, his muscles are well defined. He clearly comes from Asgard.
“Did you arrive late yesterday?” I ask.
“Around midnight.”
It’s early for him to be awake. Usually, he’s not up before eight thirty or nine. “Insomnia again?” I lean against the doorframe.
“No, I slept surprisingly well,” he says with an upbeat tone, and everything lights up inside me. “It’s good to be back.”
My heart pounds. Hard. OMG. Did Erik realize this is where he should be? Did he miss me?
“How’s your dad?”
“Better. Already back to his workshop, inventing stuff,” Erik says fondly, sounding like he’s proud of his dad while at the same time thinking he is a hopeless cause.
“Isn’t he a physics professor?”
“Yes, but he does handiwork projects in the garage. His profession is a way to earn money, not what he really wants to spend his time doing.”
I sense Erik’s deep identification with his father—and his fear of ending up like him: doing what he loves only as a hobby, not a career.
He is flipping another pancake, but his hair keeps falling in front of his eyes. “Hey, Sol, could you tie my hair back for me? My hands are dirty.”
“Sure.”
I move closer. Thump-thump, thump-thump goes my heart. How can he be so sexy?
That I thought Thomas could be my plan B now seems laughable.
“Would you kneel a bit, so I can reach your head?” I ask once I’m behind his wall of a body, laughing to disguise how nervous I am.
