The Trickster's Lover by Samantha MacLeod

Author:Samantha MacLeod [MacLeod, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vestal Valley Press
Published: 2016-09-06T05:00:00+00:00

* * * * * * * *

When I woke in the morning, Hӕmir had gone. I took a long shower in the shared bathroom down the hall and dressed slowly, packing my few things. When I had done absolutely everything I could conceivably do to avoid going downstairs, I sighed and left the room.

Hӕmir was downstairs, sharing a table with Annajӓr.

“Carol!” he said brightly, rising to meet me and giving me two air kisses on my cheeks. “Annajӓr will join us on the drive to Reykjavik,” he said, “but there is still plenty of time for breakfast.”

I smiled at him. Thank you, I thought. Thank you for not making this weird.

Breakfast was flat Icelandic pancakes served with bowls of whipped cream and lingonberry jam. The black coffee was strong and good, and two cups of coffee with a pile of pancakes almost cured my lingering headache. I still felt awkward, but Hӕmir was charming and funny and friendly, just like he’d been before I broke down, sobbing, in his strong, naked arms.

It helped to have Annajӓr in the car. The drive back to Reykjavik passed quickly and amicably as the three of us discussed our research. I offered textual support and analysis while Annajӓr took notes, and the windswept, dramatic countryside unfolded before us.

I could not believe how quickly we arrived at the Reykjavik airport. Hӕmir offered to join me for lunch, but I turned him down gently, explaining I’d better get through customs.

And then I was horrified to feel the hot prick of tears in my eyes. He’s going to think I’m completely insane, I thought, wiping my eyes furiously on my sleeve.

“Thank you,” I said, blinking at Hӕmir’s lopsided smile and trying to force the tremble from my voice. “For everything.”

Hӕmir hugged me, and then cupped my chin in his strong, warm hand. “I look forward to your return,” he said, leaning to kiss my forehead.

And then I was walking through the sliding glass doors of the Reykjavik airport, wiping my eyes again.

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