I’ve thought about that too, and it could work, for a while. But that would mean Lacey giving up her Masters, and there’s no way in hell am I going to let anything get in the way of her prospects for the future.
“I would love that, but you need to complete your Masters. Your university isn’t far away from here. We could see each other almost as often. I’ve never even taken you out anywhere.”
She laughs shakily. “We don’t need to go out anywhere. I like it here just fine.”
“But you’re leaving, käraste,” I remind her softly.
She’s silent for a long time, looking down into her lap. “Can I think about it?”
A cold feeling slips down my spine. I can take being rejected. I like to think I can, anyway, but is that what’s happening here? Am I misreading something? I know I have to go carefully because there are so many more things at play here than just romantic feelings. All this is so new to her, and anything I ask of her will be disrupting her routine.
Don’t push her. Give her some time to think.
Even though it takes every ounce of my self-control not to dig into it further, I let it go, for now. “Of course, käraste. We can talk about it later.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lacey
Relief pours through me at his words. I don’t have to deal with this now.
The box rattles. You’re disgusting and unlovable. He’ll see that soon enough, out there in the cold light of day. What use are you to him when you’re no longer his assistant, anyway?
“One thing. Call me Stian.”
“Pardon?” I couldn’t hear him over the sound of the voice, and he repeats himself, but I feel more confused than ever. “You don’t want me to call you daddy anymore?”
“Of course I do. But you think of me as Mr. Blomqvist, don’t you? I want you to start thinking of me as Stian, not your boss.”
I force a smile and nod, but the sick, fearful sensation in my stomach intensifies. When he’s my boss I know my place. I have things to do, and I know how to talk to him. If he’s just a man who expects me to be a normal woman, then I’m going to disappoint him so goddamn fast.
In the Tube on the way home, I do what my therapist would want me to do, and I think critically about my emotions. What I’m really afraid of is the unknown. Of change. Of failing because I’m not prepared for anything that isn’t as ordered and restricted as the way Mr. Blomqvist treats his bonsai.
How Stian treats his bonsai.
Stian. His name feels like longing, an intimate piece of him that I hold in my heart. I imagine being someone who could call him that.
Stian and I really liked that movie.
Stian’s picking me up soon and we’re going out.
Things are going really well with Stian.
I picture the breezy, happy Lacey who says such things, and she’s like a fairytale princess. I imagine she’s me, and I’m walking hand in hand with Stian, out in the open. Sitting with him in a bar and flirting with him over my wine glass. Laying on a blanket in the park with him having a picnic. Sharing all the small and wonderful things we both love. Just the two of us.
Just the two of you? You think you can have that? You think you DESERVE THAT?
She screams so loudly out of nowhere that I jump as if the train has lurched, and grab a handrail. My heart pounds wildly. It’s as if the clock strikes midnight, and everything blasts apart and I see the truth. That’s not what would happen if Stian and I were a couple. It could never be just the two of us, because she would be there. I’d be in a cubicle in the bar’s bathrooms, having a panic attack because a glass of wine has three hundred calories. In the park, I’d have my hands over my ears while I sob silently because I can’t bear the sight of anyone seeing me eat all this delicious food spread out on the rug before me.
It’s not a fairytale. It’s a nightmare.
I tremble like a leaf as I grip the handrail. I’ve made a huge mistake by opening the door and peeking through to a future that will never be mine. The nasty voice is louder than ever within her box, rattling the lid and cackling with high-pitched laughter.
You’re mine. How could you think you’d ever be free?
I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. It’s all going to be fine. You have your routine back now, and you’re going to get through this, just like you have every time before. She’s not you.
I am you, you stupid little bitch. Forever and ever and ever, and there’s nothing you can do about it.