me...but he didn't initiate lovemaking now. And I didn't try. He still kissed me with the same passion, still nuzzled into me at night and claimed me with his hands, but...I wanted more. And I didn't know why he was so disinterested.
He was already at the table, eating the chicken and salad I'd prepared while cradling Freya. "Sit with me, kareste ."
I joined him at the table and took Freya so that he could eat more easily. Once she'd settled into me, I asked him about Milan.
"It's a forum or some kind of exhibition on new Scandinavian design. They've invited twenty designers and firms to take part in it." He fetched a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and twisted it open. "You know how good this feels? They think we are part of this new wave of Nordic design. They're comparing us to Fritz Hansen, Arne Jacobsen and Bruno Mathson." His heroes—the icons of Danish design. He was bristling with pleasure at being compared with the likes of them. And he really was that good. The pieces he designed for us were proof of it.
"It's our wedding anniversary, though..."
"So come to Milan. We can celebrate there."
"We've tried that before." I picked at the extra napkin on the tabletop, fraying the edges with my nails. "It's always the same at these fairs and forums. You'll be so busy, you won't have time to spend with us...and traveling with a seven-month-old and a four-year-old..."
"I'm doing this for us, Laney. I'm doing this so you and the girls won't have to worry about—"
"We have what we need. We don't need more." I didn't want to have this argument again—every now and then Mads still felt like he had to compete with my old life. Even if it would have been wonderful to have that sort of financial security, I didn't want the emotional void that came with it. I could live with saving up for the vacations we took and dreaming of the summer house Mads kept talking about but that we couldn't afford.
"I'm not just doing this for you. I'm not a fucking failure, Laney—"
"I didn't say you were a failure!" Freya was getting agitated. I didn't want her to start crying, so I took her to her bedroom and put her in her crib with her penguin. Liv was sitting on the floor by her bed with her stuffed fox.
"Why is Papa mad?" she asked me in a hushed voice. She was cradling her fox, holding it like it was her very own baby. "Is he mad at me?"
"No, Livvie. Papa is just tired..." I pulled back the top sheet and got her into bed. "I promise, he'll come in soon...he'll read your favorite story." I breathed a relieved sigh as Liv climbed into her bed without a barrage of questions.
"Tell Papa I want the story about the fox."
"I'll tell him."
I closed the door when I left the girls' room. Mads was still in the kitchen. He'd abandoned his plate of food and was standing by the sink, his hands braced on either side of it.
"I don't want to fight, Mads..."
"Like hell you don't."
"And now Liv thinks you're mad at her..."
"Don't do that, Laney—don't make this about the kids."
"I'm just telling you what she said to me—"
"This design forum—fucking hell, Laney, it's good for me and the guys. We've worked so hard trying to get established and now we're there. I thought you wanted this too."
"I wanted you to get the level of success you said you wanted. You said you didn't want to be the new Bruno Mathson, you said you just wanted to make beautiful furniture—and that's what you do."
"I want us to never have to worry—"
"We don't have to worry. We're fine..."
"I want you to have the things you want—"
"I want my husband, then! I don't want to feel like a single mom all the time. I need you here, I need you!"
Mads shook his head and stalked out of the kitchen. I followed him, my insides twisting and tying in knots. "I told Liv you would read to her...."
"I will! Jesus Christ, I read to her every night, Laney—don't you start saying I'm not here for my daughters..."
"I need you here for me too—"
"I can't be here 24-7,
He was already at the table, eating the chicken and salad I'd prepared while cradling Freya. "Sit with me, kareste ."
I joined him at the table and took Freya so that he could eat more easily. Once she'd settled into me, I asked him about Milan.
"It's a forum or some kind of exhibition on new Scandinavian design. They've invited twenty designers and firms to take part in it." He fetched a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and twisted it open. "You know how good this feels? They think we are part of this new wave of Nordic design. They're comparing us to Fritz Hansen, Arne Jacobsen and Bruno Mathson." His heroes—the icons of Danish design. He was bristling with pleasure at being compared with the likes of them. And he really was that good. The pieces he designed for us were proof of it.
"It's our wedding anniversary, though..."
"So come to Milan. We can celebrate there."
"We've tried that before." I picked at the extra napkin on the tabletop, fraying the edges with my nails. "It's always the same at these fairs and forums. You'll be so busy, you won't have time to spend with us...and traveling with a seven-month-old and a four-year-old..."
"I'm doing this for us, Laney. I'm doing this so you and the girls won't have to worry about—"
"We have what we need. We don't need more." I didn't want to have this argument again—every now and then Mads still felt like he had to compete with my old life. Even if it would have been wonderful to have that sort of financial security, I didn't want the emotional void that came with it. I could live with saving up for the vacations we took and dreaming of the summer house Mads kept talking about but that we couldn't afford.
"I'm not just doing this for you. I'm not a fucking failure, Laney—"
"I didn't say you were a failure!" Freya was getting agitated. I didn't want her to start crying, so I took her to her bedroom and put her in her crib with her penguin. Liv was sitting on the floor by her bed with her stuffed fox.
"Why is Papa mad?" she asked me in a hushed voice. She was cradling her fox, holding it like it was her very own baby. "Is he mad at me?"
"No, Livvie. Papa is just tired..." I pulled back the top sheet and got her into bed. "I promise, he'll come in soon...he'll read your favorite story." I breathed a relieved sigh as Liv climbed into her bed without a barrage of questions.
"Tell Papa I want the story about the fox."
"I'll tell him."
I closed the door when I left the girls' room. Mads was still in the kitchen. He'd abandoned his plate of food and was standing by the sink, his hands braced on either side of it.
"I don't want to fight, Mads..."
"Like hell you don't."
"And now Liv thinks you're mad at her..."
"Don't do that, Laney—don't make this about the kids."
"I'm just telling you what she said to me—"
"This design forum—fucking hell, Laney, it's good for me and the guys. We've worked so hard trying to get established and now we're there. I thought you wanted this too."
"I wanted you to get the level of success you said you wanted. You said you didn't want to be the new Bruno Mathson, you said you just wanted to make beautiful furniture—and that's what you do."
"I want us to never have to worry—"
"We don't have to worry. We're fine..."
"I want you to have the things you want—"
"I want my husband, then! I don't want to feel like a single mom all the time. I need you here, I need you!"
Mads shook his head and stalked out of the kitchen. I followed him, my insides twisting and tying in knots. "I told Liv you would read to her...."
"I will! Jesus Christ, I read to her every night, Laney—don't you start saying I'm not here for my daughters..."
"I need you here for me too—"
"I can't be here 24-7,
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