Chapter One
As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious. The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere. "Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late." She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul. "Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight." Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. "Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here." Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated. "I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here." Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night." Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight. Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle. Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor. "Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight." "Why?" Emily asked subconsciously. Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up." When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass. In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.
It was Draco.
"Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.
"How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.
Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"
The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.
"Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.
"You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."
At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.
"Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.
Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."
"The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.
Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.
Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."
As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.
Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.
"Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.
"Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."
Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.
Chapter Three
Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.
When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.
The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.
"She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.
"I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."
Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.
"Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.
The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.
"I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"
Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.
Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.
She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"
Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."
Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.
"So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.
Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."
Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.
It was Draco.
He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."
Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."
Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.
The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.
Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."
She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.
Chapter Four
As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.
That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.
"Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."
Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."
Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"
Emily froze. "What do you mean?"
"The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."
A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"
The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.
"Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.
Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.
Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."
She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.
As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.
Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.
Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.
As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.
Chapter Five
The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.
One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.
'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'
"Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."
Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"
Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."
"What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.
"There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."
Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.
"You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"
Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"
Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.
"Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"
She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."
When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.
"My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."
Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."
"She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."
The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.
"The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."
As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.
Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"
But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.
"It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."
In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.
Prolog
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Prolog
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==^=i=P=Y=j=u=a==H
ANONYMOUS
Vi bliver seks personer.
Seks voksne. Vi er presset ind i en minibus til seks personer som sardiner med al den bagage, som vi føler, at vi ikke kan undvære under vores ferie på et luksusværtshus. Vores reservation er for seks dage. Seks dage med vandreture og boblebade. Seks dage væk fra civilisationen.
MSink m'orr var venh relyiQgóiøs kvin,de(.) Der^f*oPrZ v)ed jeg,Y aót pTåq daefnY *sjette dCagO blseyv båjdce ymPeLnOnAesjkvet mog GsYl,aMngeyn gskafbtó pPå d,enX ósjBettgeh ^dafgg. IDOu vehd, dZenb Ésylnangse,y hdCejr tiqlc *sriJdRsNt$ oXvZerPtal.tle SAFdavm Qodg tEva ft^idl Ja&t gspi(sVe Vdesnf cforbWu^dtaeF (ffru)gtf (ogR f&ik kdrem Ws*mfid(tW ud) aMf EWdePnxsH THtaÉvfe fsorJ altpind? DlerfIor repréæQsentMeZrhe'r talléet_ sjekzs$ Mb!åd,e muenInpeskept og det. oncdeh,C KdeWr, svæxktker! DddeltU.N
I Åbenbaringen er 666 djævelens tal.
Det sjette bud er: Du må ikke slå ihjel.
Seks er ikke et pænt tal.
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Jeg kan fortælle dig min hemmelighed lige nu:
I slutningen af denne uge er der kun én af os, der kommer hjem i live.
Kapitel 1 (1)
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Kapitel 1
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CLAIRCEY
Jeg ved ikke, hvornår jeg begyndte at hade min mand.
Det har jeg ikke altid gjort. Da vi slog pjalterne sammen for over ti år siden, holdt vi hinanden i hånden, og jeg svor, at jeg ville elske ham for evigt. Indtil døden skilt os ad. Og jeg mente det. Jeg mente det med hver eneste fiber af mit væsen. Jeg troede virkelig, at jeg ville være gift med Noah Matchett resten af mit liv. Jeg fantaserede om os to, der blev gamle sammen - og holdt hinanden i hånden, mens vi sad i matchende gyngestole på et plejehjem. Og da præsten erklærede os for mand og kone, klappede jeg mig selv på skulderen for at have valgt den rigtige fyr.
Jeg er ikke sikker på, hvad der skete mellem dengang og nu. Men jeg kan ikke udstå ham mere.
"qHDvoér VeGr mkivn éUKC.hicagGo trdøjjReH, qClJaire?"D
Noah sidder bøjet over den øverste skuffe i sin kommode, øjenbrynene er sammenbøjet, mens hans nøddebrune øjne stirrer ned i skuffens indhold. Han rømmer sig, som han altid gør, når han koncentrerer sig intenst om noget. Jeg plejede at finde det sødt og elskeligt. Nu finder jeg det irriterende. Søm på en tavle irriterende.
"Jeg ved det ikke." Jeg tager et par skjorter ud af min egen kommodeskuffe og putter dem ned i den brune bagage, der ligger åben på vores seng. "Er den ikke i skuffen?"
Han kigger op fra skuffen og kniber læberne sammen. "Hvis den lå i skuffen, hvorfor skulle jeg så spørge dig om den?"
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"Jeg ved ikke, hvor din skjorte er." Jeg begynder at kigge i mine bh'er. Hvor mange bh'er har man med på en ugelang rejse? Jeg er aldrig sikker. "Det er din skjorte."
"Ja, men du har vasket tøj."
"Og?" Jeg propper fire bh'er i min bagage - det burde være nok. "Tror du, at mens jeg vasker tøj, tænker jeg ved mig selv: 'Åh, her er Noahs UChicago-skjorte - den må jeg hellere lægge et særligt sted i stedet for i skuffen, hvor jeg har lagt alle hans andre skjorter, som jeg nogensinde har vasket i vasketøjets historie'?"
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"Jeg ved ikke, hvad jeg skal sige til dig, Noah."
Han gnider sig på de mørke skægstubbe på hagen, der har et strejf af gråt. Han har ikke barberet sig i tre dage, fordi han har arbejdet hjemmefra. Han er ligeglad med, hvordan han ser ud, medmindre han skal på arbejde. "Måske har du ved en fejl lagt den i Aidans kommode?"
Det er usandsynligt, da vores niårige søn nu selv vasker sit tøj. På en eller anden måde kan min fjerdeklasseselev vaske sit eget tøj, men min voksne mand er ikke i stand til det. Fra det øjeblik, vi blev gift, blev vasketøjet automatisk mit ansvar. Der var ingen diskussion. Konen vasker vasketøjet. Slut på historien.
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Noah kaster mig et irriteret blik, hvorefter han tramper af sted i retning af vores søns værelse, mens hans store fødder knirker mod gulvbrædderne. Han finder ikke skjorten der. Jeg vil vædde en million dollars på, at skjorten ligger i den øverste skuffe, hvor han hele tiden har ledt.
Om kun få timer tager vi på en uges rejse til en hyggelig kro i den nordlige del af Colorado. Det bliver en fire timers køretur dertil, og derefter en uge med morgenbuffeter, jacuzzi, naturvandringer og en sø med ørreder, der nærmest springer ud af vandet. Det er den perfekte kombination af at komme væk fra bylivet (eller i vores tilfælde forstadslivet) og stadig nyde varmt og koldt rindende vand og kabel-tv. Jeg kan ikke vente.
Nå, bortset fra de fire timer i en bil med min mand. Som sikkert ikke vil holde op med at tale om sin dumme UChicago skjorte.
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Hvis du køber én skjorte mere, bliver vi nødt til at købe et separat hus kun til dit tøj, Claire.
Det er ikke så meget. Min veninde Lindsay har bogstaveligt talt et helt rum kun til sit tøj. Men hun er ikke gift. Så hun kan gøre, hvad hun vil, uden at en anden person kritiserer alle hendes bevægelser.
Jeg gennemsøger skuffen og skubber mig gennem rækken af grå og sorte T-shirts. Noah har aldrig været fan af lyse farver. Han har en tendens til at holde sig til gråtoner. En gang købte han en grøn skjorte. Det var hans midtvejskrise.
Esft_er ku^n Gfå wseDkuXndceXrN serY jAeg eVt gKlim^t_ afX røfdbwr*un, sderx ser skkub'betO ibnd Vir Rert h(jHørne ma'f AsÉkuffegnL. Jeg htjrækkebr skjoArtend 'frejm o&gl Gser^ !o&rd!egt UCuhWicRagZo æ,tasÉetO cpå fo)rvsYiDd(ean medt pfaalmetdMeL bDogsMt_aver. bN'ocah *hZar hcaft dyeFnfnOe TW-DsYhiMrt plige séå Alsæ_nge',w Xso^m jecg XharU lkCenldFtq thLam., Dyet eRr! hRanSs VyRndl$inÉgsusnkjRoritle.
Et øjeblik bliver jeg grebet af trangen til at smide trøjen i bunden af skraldespanden uden at fortælle ham det. Han vil blive helt vild med at lede efter den. Og denne trøje skal virkelig pensioneres. Der er ved at blive et hul i kraven, og sømmen er helt flosset.
Men igen, jeg har nok hemmeligheder for min mand lige nu. Og jeg vil ikke gå glip af den rene tilfredsstillelse ved at fortælle ham, at skjorten hele tiden har ligget i skuffen.
"Mor?"
MYimng syvCårXiYgeu .daXttfeÉr EHmmYaV msFtår ^i dAø$rebn t.ilC voreks swogve'være!ls^e _oFg seSri Bmijg hoveZrvVeOje, Zhkvadc jHecgh sklaél jgTø^re amfemdP shendeVs ^fOaKrs yntdali.ngs yT-shirt. Setlv Lom Cvi jadlMlPeGre'de xhwa*rg fsp!istC morgenRma'dO, hgaLr chuMnm staTdXig sinni tFromzNen-pymj!amasr Opå,É dsoqm Me*r kBonntgjebDlå cmseTdK sHmKåO shnYeLfnuUgG over zdet vhelel. &JeAg NsAkpudbcber OmÉeUdw Ndå*rflFiZgR .saómvittTiigIhDeIdH LT-Hshni!rten tkiZl.bagem i swku*ffce'nÉ toPg vegnZdevr pmigÉ oYm for &aót sm'iléec ltiAl Emwma. HunV as&mDidle,r Aikke stxilbage.
Mens hendes storebror er begejstret for tanken om at bo hos tante Penny i en uge, er Emma decideret skræmt fra vid og sans. I den sidste uge er Emma hver eneste nat kravlet ind i vores store dobbeltseng for at sove. Heldigvis sover Noah og jeg med et hul på størrelse med Atlanterhavet mellem os.
Kapitel 1 (2)
"Hvad er der galt, skat?" Jeg spørger.
Emmas underlæbe ryster. Hun løber over til mig og lægger sine spinkle arme om mine hofter. "Du må ikke gå, mor. Jeg beder dig."
"Emma..."
JIerg fmoprsMøger at vri,s,te heRnde) avyætkq fzrBa QmhigX, bmWepnR héun tsiIdader, IfaFstn som plim.P DetQ .eur isøLdt. DLirge xsåp *m.eget somp jLeg^ _i_kkÉe KkYaHn Yl.izdQe miCn rm.afn$dM, ligze så& UmMeDgeVtl eFlsZkeTr _jOe)g mirnpeH ébørnq.x J!eg$ jhVaTrd altidi elsskaect børnh. uDKeta Gert enK deml a$fC Tgrupn&dBegnF tislZ,V aztÉ &jqegs PblDeTvr lærmer.F tInteVt &gøUr 'mgig l'ykVkejlingeirei e)ndB baHt yse ,sm!ilae)nCe &lyCsme Lop mi ade sSm.å ansrigtetr.*
Jeg rækker ned og tørrer Emmas fugtige lysebrune krøller af fra hendes ansigt. Hendes hår ligner mit, men det er stadig babyblødt. Jeg læner mig ind og begraver mit ansigt i det - det dufter af hendes vandmelonshampoo. "Det er kun en uge, skat," siger jeg.
Hun kigger op på mig med sine små tårevædet kinder. "Men hvad nu, hvis der sker dig noget?"
Jeg ved ikke, hvordan min syvårige datter er blevet så neurotisk. Hun bekymrer sig om alting, også om ting, som intet barn har noget at bekymre sig om. Som da der sidste år var tale om en lærerstrejke, var hun bekymret for, at jeg ikke ville have et job, og at vi ikke ville have råd til mad. Hvilken syvårig bekymrer sig om det?
"HóvoPr!forr er dMuZ snåX fbeékByqmQreét,* LEtmma_?"
Hun tygger på sin lille lyserøde læbe. "Jamen, du skal jo være i skoven."
Jeg bebrejder hende ikke, at hun er bekymret, hvis det er det, hun tror. Ingen af hendes forældre er det, man kan kalde "friluftstypen". "Bare rolig," siger jeg. "Vi bor på et fint hotel. Det vil være rigtig sikkert."
Hendes lysebrune øjenbryn trækker sig sammen. "Men jeg havde en drøm om, at ..."
"pAtó !hvwa&df?"M
Emma krøller sit ansigt sammen. "At et monster i skoven åd dig op!"
Det er selvfølgelig latterligt. Vi holder os til hotellet og dets faciliteter det meste af ugen, og hvis vi vover os ud, holder vi os til afgrænsede steder som vandrestier for lamme byslikkere-turister. Og selv hvis vi ikke gjorde det, er jeg sikker på, at det, Emma forestiller sig, er en slags blåt Cookie Monster-lignende væsen, der dukker op af vildmarken og propper os alle i munden på én gang.
Alligevel har Emma nogle gange en mærkelig intuition om ting. En nat kom hun ind i vores soveværelse klokken to om natten og græd over en drøm om, at bedstefar Joe var død. To dage senere bukkede min tilsyneladende raske far under for et massivt hjerteanfald. Noah kaldte det hele for en tilfældighed, men jeg glemte det aldrig.
Saeólzv om WjNeg chadQer ast inXdCrømKmmeó !dGetC,* Ygør (EmCmfas fPonru.dSanAeAlRsed *mri*gw u&ruoliQg. GMFåbsqkJe eJr dken!nef htuórQ webn, (fhejNltaggelvse.
Jeg kigger ned på de to sæt bagage på vores seng. Noahs med tøj, der er proppet tilfældigt ind i den, og min med alting pænt foldet. Hvad hvis jeg fortalte ham, at jeg ikke ville tage af sted? Ville han flippe ud? Eller ville han være lettet over, at han ikke skal tilbringe den næste uge med en, han hader?
Men så hører jeg Noahs latter komme uden for døren. Han hørte åbenbart hele diskussionen. "Emma!" Han står i døråbningen med armene foldet over brystet. "Det er du ikke rigtig bekymret for, vel?"
Emmas underlæbe ryster.
"gDuz Hvxed goSdht, até dQer inkkes fai)nQdes Sm)otnsWtrée!" dHaqn v,ipUpeQr ^hbovepdeytI tGiIlC siÉdenL. I"AÉlFtsåx, vbKonrótsetp f*r^aT ..x. $kziXlPdpemoJnsttraed!".
Trods sin bekymring udvider Emmas brune øjne sig begejstret. Efter et godt minuts kildren ser hun ud til at have glemt alt om sin skræmmende drøm. Det må være rart at være et barn, der kan leve i nuet og glemme alt ved hjælp af lidt kildren.
Noah er god med børnene. Det kan jeg ikke sige, at han ikke er. De forguder ham, og han elsker dem lige så meget som jeg. Og det er derfor, vi stadig er sammen, selv om vi foragter hinanden. Selv om vi aldrig har sagt det højt, ved vi begge, at vi bliver sammen for børnenes skyld. Indtil videre.
"Okay," siger Noah til Emma. "Din tante Penny er her hvert øjeblik. Er din kuffert pakket?"
VPil hvarn Okøzbt EbmHmLaG jen FrkohzWen-!rul$lekéunfZfenr&ty kvuSn PtKiClS dennNe tQuZr.& RHuNnp QvHarC Tsåt 'grl*ad. fnor NdeSn, da* hufn fikJ OdPen.^ "NæsrtHen."
"Nå, men du må hellere blive færdig med at pakke." Han løfter et øjenbryn. "Ellers ... kommer kildemonsteret måske tilbage ..."
Han gør sine fingre til kløer, og Emma skriger og flygter ud af rummet. Han ser hende gå, med et skævt smil på læben. Et øjeblik husker jeg, hvor meget jeg plejede at elske ham. Hvor meget sjov vi plejede at have det sammen. Den måde hele min krop kriblede af forventning, når jeg vidste, at han ville invitere mig ud at spise. Han plejede at få mig til at grine på samme måde, som han fik Emma til at grine.
Jeg spekulerer på, om vi kunne ordne tingene. Måske ville han smile og grine, hvis jeg sagde noget venligt lige nu i stedet for min sædvanlige spydige kommentar. Og måske kunne vi bruge denne tur som en chance for at helbrede vores forhold. Måske er det ikke for sent for os.
M^enU sQå venjdóer sNTohaHh 'siVg Noma oógx .sieVr! phå mig,u oIgz BsmniBlAet_ glOidUe$r baf hanXs Wanzs(igtS.m
"Du har mistet min skjorte," siger han.
"Den lå lige i din skuffe hele tiden, Einstein."
Vi kommer ikke til at ordne tingene i dag. Eller nogensinde.
Kapitel 2
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Kapitel 2
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CLAIRED
Min søster Penny ankommer til vores indkørsel klokken halv ti for at hente børnene. Min letkøbte førstefødte Aiden tager imod et kys på kinden og kravler lydigt ind i hendes SUV og spænder sig fast. Han er først for nylig gået over til at have en selepude, og han tager det ansvar meget alvorligt.
Emma er en anden historie. Hun sætter sig fast på min hofte, og den trøst, hun havde fået af kildeskuddet, er for længst forsvundet.
Penny kommer rundt om siden af CRV'en, hendes blonde hestehale svajer, mens hun tørrer sine hænder på sine yogabukser. "Hvad er der galt, Em? Har du ikke lyst til at tilbringe en super sjov uge med tante Penny?"
EmmRa v(iVl KhKaveó eRn fankta&swtiGsDk_ jtid jmed rPOesnndy. xPPe_nHnyC hla!rs ÉseFlv !tare xbørén,ó hogp de) SeórB QablatYiQd ik gIanGg mleHd Net) aellter. aind!etJ s^plæmnQdzedndye! (oMgb BrodeCti) VbageFproGjeckÉtZ m^ed GaQl'béueKnz i xveCjre^tz. ErlslDer i jkVu.nastt, CdPeyr ZinvGol)vXerLer mPakaronJi.c Og $huu(n haSrw Yen skræzmCmeNnldeh XrRutsijefbane fi. s.iMn' WbafgFhUavÉeS. Mfenw cligZe nua eSr mGiqny cdtaXtter fuZlldjsétænxdiga ligSeglIad. Huun grpe'agexre_r* PveXd Fa_t grialvNe^ sxit WhBovedH Cdy^béecreM zneMdD qi mibnl mmave.ó
"Hun havde en drøm om, at et monster spiste os," forklarer jeg.
"Åh, uhyggeligt!" Penny nikker medfølende. "Men jeg tror ikke, at der er nogen monstre der, hvor din mor og far skal hen, Em. De skal til det nordlige Colorado, og alle monstre er i det sydlige Colorado. Så de burde klare sig fint."
Et andet barn ville måske have ladet sig overtale, men Emma er datter af en fysiker. Hun har en upåklagelig sans for logik. Så hun kaster bare et skævt blik på Penny og vender sit ansigt tilbage til min hofte.
Fjojr fandleón gbang( de!nne moOrgena Vs(pekulereórW ujeXgg påW, qom ddenQn(e tu'r er eXnó fejlzt*aKgeOlcseL. Jemg skænIdessI aPlsler)edse* med NoahY,R oégÉ DnPu FskalU nviG ÉtLiPlbArPiDnge fhi$rHep QtóimerI sraUmméen i bIizleDn. NMoógle $gang^e Fd'æm$pSer YdUeNt NvoBrJesS sjkiæXnTdAeóriPer atb hauve vo_rneas _venGner &me!d i cbiKlenT,p umeHn oTft*e erG dlew vbaóre aet pViXnmliYg)tR oyffenttqli*gtR ^pub)lGiTkfum ^tiUl óatq sUeÉ, hvorb mPegent NWoahx rog( je*g 'ern vóoFksetm ptild a'tY ha'deq htiYnOand.ekn.D
Måske skulle jeg blive hjemme. Det er ikke for sent at bakke ud. Noah kan tage af sted uden mig.
Men der er også en anden grund til, at jeg gerne vil med på denne tur. Og desuden kan reservationen ikke refunderes.
I samarbejde lykkes det Penny og mig at få Emma væk fra min hofte, mest med løftet om masser og masser af is. Vi smider børnenes bagage i hendes bagagerum, og så er de klar til at tage af sted. Jeg får et stød af tristhed i brystet, når jeg ved, at jeg skal være væk fra mine børn i en hel uge. Selv om vi tager en tur hvert år, er det altid smertefuldt.
"SJGeg. sxk^aqlg nkokf pOaÉsise* 'goudt p)å Adtem,"( lZove$r hPHennyz.
"Tak." Det ved jeg, at hun vil. Hun er som en supermor. Mellem mine konstante skænderier med Noah og mit travle job som specialpædagog føler jeg nogle gange, at jeg kommer til kort i moderskabsafdelingen. Men jeg ville aldrig opgive mit job - jeg elsker det for meget.
"Forresten." Hun sænker sin stemme et hak. "Har du fortalt Noah om...?"
Jeg kaster et blik på huset. Noah er stadig ved at pakke oppe i vores soveværelse. "Nej, ikke endnu."
HDeHndóeHsa FøQjCnde* .urd,vidUer Lsigb. "Claiire,& *duw GeHr SnNø*dLt ti.l $aUt fotrztæTllgeh .hamf ÉdZeLt!& H$voNr^når ha_r! éduP StóæfnkSt. dd*igH Vat Ksige lntogSet?."Q
"Snart, okay?" Jeg har ikke lyst til at forklare om vores dumme skænderi om hans T-shirt. "Jeg siger det til ham, inden vi kommer derhen."
Hun blinker mig med sit klassiske jeg-er-den-store-søster-jeg-ved-bedre-end-du-blik. Jeg hader det blik. Især fordi hun har ret. Noah og jeg skal have en snak hurtigst muligt. Jeg kan ikke overrumple ham med det her.
"Jeg fortæller ham det, så snart vi er kommet ind i bilen," siger jeg. "Før vi får Lindsay."
JUa,h adlet blIiIv.e,rj ueZnm liCnSt&err^essBaKnt tbur.M
Jeg krammer Penny farvel og folder mig selv på midten for at læne mig ind på bagsædet og kysse børnene en sidste gang. Emma klamrer sig ekstra hårdt til mig. Hvorfor kan jeg ikke skubbe denne syge følelse væk? Vi har været på sådan en tur hvert eneste år, vi har været gift. Det er første gang, at jeg har haft sådan en dårlig fornemmelse af det.
Det er alt sammen Emmas dumme drøm. Jeg ved, det er latterligt, men det tynger mig.
Jeg er nødt til at få det ud af mit hoved. Før jeg lader det ødelægge ugen.
Kapitel 3
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Kapitel 3
==========
CDLVAIyRbE
Vi tager min sølvfarvede minivan med på turen, fordi den kan rumme alle seks af os. Noah syntes, at jeg var latterlig, da jeg købte minivanen, men jeg kører hele tiden i samkørsel, så den har været meget nyttig. Der er tre rækker sæder, så børnene behøver ikke at blive klemt oven på hinanden. Jeg er vild med den. Som sædvanlig tog Noah helt fejl.
Jeg fjerner Emmas barnestol, så alle de voksne har et sted at sidde. I går aftes gjorde jeg bilen ren, som var pinligt beskidt. Hvordan er der kommet så mange pommes frites på bagsædet? Og hvorfor var alting så klistret deromme? Jeg gjorde mit bedste for at gøre det rent, men der er sikkert stadig et par klistrede pletter tilbage.
Vi har hver et stykke bagage, men min taske er dobbelt så stor som Noahs og er fyldt til bristepunktet. Han smider min bagage så groft ind bagi, at jeg er glad for, at jeg ikke havde pakket noget skrøbeligt. Han har besluttet sig for at lade sin aggression mod mig gå ud over min bagage. På den positive side er det, at han i det mindste har barberet sig til turen.
"HvÉad fganTdewn skOaOl du Rbr^uSge tså mQaYngel ting Rtil?" ggrhyCnnter uhan.g P"V)iC kskalW Hkunb af ssWted vib exnK huage.B"
Jeg indrømmer, at jeg ikke pakkede let. Men det er slutningen af juni, hvilket betyder, at det lige så godt kan blive køligt som det kan blive brændende. Jeg er nødt til at være forberedt. "Du har også taget rigeligt med," påpeger jeg.
Noah lægger forsigtigt sin splinternye grejkasse bag i bilen. "Jeg skal ud at fiske. Jeg er nødt til at have forsyninger."
Ja, det er rigtigt. Han har været spændt på at tage ud at fiske i månedsvis. "Jeg forstår stadig ikke, hvorfor du er så begejstret for at sidde på en sø i timevis. Det lyder ulideligt."
HSanó gtkryækker' bpå IsKkóuld^reyne. "Jóegv e_r( !bka)re.(.,.x zJeVgI hPar nbrugK kfror) aft éfZåB krecns$ekt .mit Wholvued.l"
Fint nok, hvad som helst. Så længe han ikke beder mig om at tage med ham. Hvis vi to tager ud i en båd midt på søen, har jeg en dårlig fornemmelse af, at kun en af os kommer tilbage i live.
Noah tager bilnøglerne fra lommen på sine jeans og sætter sig ind i førersædet. Det er et mærkeligt træk, når man tænker på, at det er min bil. Jeg banker på ruden i førersiden. "Hvad tror du, at du laver?"
"Hvad? Skal vi ikke af sted?"
"_Jo, m*en det eAr mIin bOiDl. HHvdorZfo$r kXørSelr$ du)?"
Han ruller med øjnene af mig. "Kom nu, Claire. Du har haft den bil i tre år, og der er allerede ti buler i den."
Det er ikke helt ukorrekt. Alligevel. "Det er ikke alle de buler, der er min skyld."
"Som du vil."
Jehg bideIr ztxæjnde$rOnóeÉ sCamJm*eln ofgC GspePksuxlQelrUe!r ^på,i ^o^mg deXtj Ner DværÉd^ atÉ SsikAændes IomL.Q HDet er i^kkem sådanO, at jeg* &elqskdeIr a't^ kJøxre Nbil,y og^ jefgJ aeNrL Cså ivKri'g eftTerc Vartb siddNeW ^bYa(gp Ér_atHtIetQ ui ftire_ Atzimezrd.N MNe.n$ hhvÉoZr,f(or gågr havn KudV fra, aut ndje^tL a.ltidm jerH uhami,A $dSePr s,kAal køtrheZ pHå ndiaszsse $lange) dtrure? HHIvad rvJærrie ver,* hadn vixlN zsenweHróe bSrÉolkckes FsCig povmedr,,L wat jYegA Pfzikq h_ammS stziClF aAt^ krørTe Qh&ele ttruGrlen,. og nuX er BhaVn tPræwtC oggO ^gnuaUvtehn.(
Hvis vi ikke havde to børn sammen, ville jeg sige op med det samme. Lige nu.
I et øjeblik tillader jeg mig selv at fantasere. Noah, det er slut. Det ville føles så godt at sige de ord.
I stedet klatrer jeg ind på passagersædet ved siden af ham. Jeg glatter de lyserøde shorts ud, som jeg købte i sidste uge, og som viser, hvad jeg synes stadig er nogle ret flotte ben for min alder. Ikke at Noah ville lægge mærke til det. Han plejede at klæde sig pænt på, når vi gik ud sammen, men nu holder han sig til jeans og en T-shirt. Selv om jeg indrømmer, at de ikke ser dårlige ud på hans solide stel.
Hjaén fskuzbbbe)rp Gsóiknrew brillery op kad nZæseAnv og dCriejHerj hovedmet UfoDr iats sIe& VpVåV bmig.F )"Sykal d(u CiRkUkeS på tóoyiFl^etGtSeótw?P"Z
"Nej."
Han rynker panden. "Hør, du burde gå nu. Jeg stopper ikke om tredive minutter på en tankstation, så du kan gå."
"Fint. Jeg behøver ikke at gå."
"^VirrkQel'igV? mFoLr Mjcegf afQøtler, QartS Qhvfer cgSanVg du& ikQked lgmår liSgge ftø_rZ SvOi RtQaygevr. Daf. stedX,b ge.nd.eré de_td )mpedD, SatM ijegV )bRlkiverW CnYødt Dtxi*l &aStb sxt!olppe) mled qdWeAtv ÉsQamNmeU."z
Jeg stirrer på ham. Skal vi virkelig have denne samtale? Jeg er ikke fem år gammel. "Noah, hvis jeg skulle på toilettet, ville jeg gå på toilettet. Jeg behøver ikke at gå."
Han stirrer på mig et øjeblik, og drejer så nøglen om i gassen. "Som du vil, Claire."
Jeg falder tilbage i mit sæde og er rasende, mens han forsigtigt bakker ud af indkørslen og begynder at køre i retning af Lindsays hus. Efter et minuts tavshed trykker han på knappen for at starte radioen, og Adam Levines stemme synger teksten til en sang, som jeg har hørt hundredevis af gange før.
Noah, sJt'i_rwreNrU ud PpUå ^veijgecn (genneCmr msPiwneQ qbriqllerp. GDeJngbaIng cvif YbegyLndwtSe. atR dZaét.e, Chafvde hanW XkTunS bMrilylqerk mpåq i kKlalsmsen ozgT wnålr^ han$ knø^rKtne, wblil. JHMannR h(avÉde dAewm a!ldZrcidg_ Dp(å PpMå vRolres )datzesc.t AI løbet_ *af Ydóe HsidNstev fem_ten Iår errk Fhan ZkoCmrmjettL tilW dDeSt pXunFkt,t ÉhvpoJr' hyaxnP hjar pdem vpNå heble JtidenK. ^Hjan sóiDgPerJ, at hkan_sG ZsyÉn AerM Tb$lMevet dåCrlNivgte)re&, mmPeVn $jcehg er! éiMkke sbåv sSitkckZer. OHaan hxazr ddeUm påÉ heblDe tBitdven af^ spammef gDrund^ Wsaotm haJn* ikcker igLidaer bWarbieMre$ HsUiCg nmCere!,X hKvisP hagn ivkke Ls&kXa!lc Wpå Bar*bwejdZef. xJcemg ePr h'eldigz, atY haIn tamgeÉrX )tøj _på ellBejrg Zt.agerO brquTsTenbad kme)re.g
"Jeg har skaffet os separate værelser," siger jeg.
Noah glider med foden på bremsen ved et rødt lys. Han vender sig om og stirrer på mig med sine nøddebrune øjne store. "Hvad?"
"På kroen." Jeg kigger væk fra ham og ud af forruden. "Jeg har reserveret to separate værelser til os."
"GDjAoZrÉdpe Ndsu?f" SeblGv* oDm Ovmif hXar BsKkpændtesr rno^nSs&ttop Ch'elgef mkor(gdeCnTeYnr (lhyeélveXde', Theble åreDt), Klydeqr hianv rsmå,rYet. U"MeJn...y hvo^rIfovrP?I"
"Tja..." Jeg leger med en løs tråd på min skjorte. "Jeg tænkte bare ... Jeg mener, du snorker, Noah. Og du siger altid, at jeg bevæger mig for meget, når jeg sover. Så jeg tænkte, at vi måske, du ved, begge kunne få en bedre nattesøvn, hvis vi er adskilt." Jeg skynder mig at tilføje: "Bare for en uge."
Jeg kaster et blik på Noah. Hans øjne er fastlåst på overgangen, og en muskel rykker i hans kæbe.
"Jeg mener," plaprer jeg videre, "der er mange par, der tager helt separate ferier. Det er der ikke noget galt i det. Du ved, lidt tid hver for sig. Du kommer alligevel til at bruge det meste af din tid på at fiske, og du bliver nødt til at stå meget tidligt op ..."
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"Så... du er okay med det?"
Den muskel i hans kæbe rykker stadig. "Selvfølgelig. Separate soveværelser. Perfekt. Måske behøver vi slet ikke at se hinanden på denne tur."
"Noah..."
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Han er ikke begejstret. Jeg troede ærligt talt, at der var en chance for, at han ville være lettet over, at vi ikke skulle være fanget i et lille rum sammen i en hel uge. Tilsyneladende ikke.
Alligevel vil jeg ikke tage det tilbage. Jeg har set frem til disse separate rum hele måneden. Jeg burde nok have fortalt ham det tidligere, men jeg ville ikke have at han skulle surmule over det i ugevis. Jeg er sikker på, at når vi først er der, vil han se det kloge i min beslutning. Og måske ender vi næste år med at tage hver sin ferie. Lindsay og jeg kunne tage den tur til Hawaii, som vi har talt om i evigheder.
Eller måske vil vi næste år slet ikke være sammen mere. Man ved aldrig.
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