kiddie but she’s fallen on her feet with that Nico. Compassionate man.’
Hannah nodded.
Amanda Louise arrived with a group of friends, smiling and nodding politely to Hannah and Nan.
‘So,’ challenged one of the friends as they settled at a nearby table. ‘What happened? I saw you smooching with him. Snagged and shagged?’
Hannah’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want to know the answer but she could neither blame Amanda Louise for fixing her sights on Nico or Nico for taking advantage. Last night she’d dared to hope that a single life might lend itself to seeing Nico on his visits to Stockholm but if tall, striking Amanda Louise had given him the green light it would explain his suddenly turned cold shoulder.
But Amanda Louise said, ‘He couldn’t leave his kids,’ and changed the subject. Relief surged through Hannah, even if Amanda Louise’s tone implied the kids were the only reason Nico hadn’t spent a wild night in her bed.
‘I miss you living in England,’ Nan said suddenly, her voice creaking.
It jerked Hannah out of her self-absorption. With horror, she saw a tear balanced on Nan’s sparse eyelashes. ‘I miss you too.’ She gulped down the lump in her throat and slid a gentle arm around Nan’s frail old shoulders. It dawned on her that with her parents on their travels and Brett off the scene, Nan’s Christmas might depend on Rob and Leesa. She hoped they’d welcome Nan with open arms because Hannah had no idea where she’d be living and, anyway, Nan could never make the trip to Sweden alone at ninety.
In fact … chances were Hannah’s Christmas would be a lonely affair, with the shop shut on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and not even Albin for company. Unable to think of words with which to comfort Nan, she just hugged her harder.
Chapter Eight
On the flight, Hannah tried to occupy her mind with Hannah Anna Butik’s Christmas decorations. She’d already put up an illuminated star in the window and white lights around window and door. Perhaps she’d add icicle-shaped lights on boughs of spruce with baubles of gold and black.
No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept darting off. When would it be best to make Albin discuss their relationship? After the tetchiness as she’d left, her only contact had been a text to tell him she’d arrived and a WhatsApped picture of the bride and groom. She wouldn’t land until ten-fifty p.m. She’d take the train from Arlanda airport and then an Uber to Östermalm, reaching Albin’s apartment about one a.m. He’d probably be asleep. Tomorrow morning? Ridiculous to think of sliding it into the conversation before they left for work.
The butterflies that journeyed home with her fluttered wings of ice but when she finally let herself into the apartment she was surprised to discover Albin awake.
She greeted him warily, wheeling her baggage onto the tiled hall floor. He smiled and put aside his book, rising slowly.
They faced each other.
Hannah searched his smooth face, her heartbeat jigging as she took a breath to speak.
Albin got in first, his voice soft. ‘I waited up for you because it’s time to talk.’
Relief broke over her. ‘You’re right.’ The words ‘This isn’t working’ rose to her tongue but suddenly it was Albin’s mouth they were coming out of.
He added, ‘We had great times together but they’re in the past.’ He smiled courteously, his voice dropping. ‘Sorry I put off this conversation but I had things to arrange. I’m afraid I have to ask you to move out, Hannah.’
Thrown that he was speaking her lines she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘What about Hannah Anna Butik?’
Sardonic amusement filled his eyes. ‘Interesting that it’s the shop that’s your first concern. Not me. Not us.’
Blood raced to her face. ‘Sorry – I …’ She swallowed. ‘I was going to raise the same subject but you took me by surprise. And,’ she added, her eyes prickling, ‘it’s sad, after almost two years.’
‘Let’s sit down.’ He didn’t look sad as he took his customary armchair and she dropped down onto the sofa. Whatever she’d thought would happen when she faced Albin, it wasn’t that he’d get in first. He leaned forward, holding her gaze. ‘We moved from “fling” to “relationship” and, like letting you hang your red towels in my bathroom, by the time I acknowledged that it wasn’t for me, I’d let it happen.’
Hannah was stung. ‘I didn’t know I was ever a “fling”,’ she said stiffly. ‘But this is your family’s