“So I was right?”
She gave a wry smile. “I’d really like a Nordmann, but let’s go with the spruce.”
“What’s stopping you from choosing a Nordmann fir?”
She remained silent for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Because it’s always been that way. We’ve always had a spruce, that’s just how it is.”
He managed to stop himself from saying that a lot of things had always been that way—this wasn’t the time for a snide comment.
“You seem to have plenty of traditions too,” she added with a smile. “The Eklund family’s fairy-tale Christmases.”
The actual Christmas holiday was nothing like the celebration they staged for the cameras in November every year, but he couldn’t tell her that.
“Baking gingerbread cookies, the marzipan competition, preparing the ham and all those fun activities like making wreaths and huge flower arrangements,” Nora went on without a hint of sarcasm.
It was Henrik’s turn to shrug. “Like I said the other day, things in our family are a little ... tense. It’s not like on TV.”
“No? I’ve always envied your wonderful Christmases, a fantastic blended family where everyone loves everyone else.”
He snorted. “In reality, we’re a blended family where everyone hates everyone else and is jealous of everyone else and ...” He broke off. What had he just said? Somehow he couldn’t stop himself. “Christmas with my father is vile. I’ve spent the holiday with my mom and her partner for the last couple of years. We don’t go over the top with traditions; I have so many terrible memories associated with Christmas that I no longer find it particularly enjoyable.”
She gazed at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“That’s the way it is when Hasse Eklund is your father.”
“So ... how is it?” she asked gently.
Henrik shook his head. “When I was nine years old, Christmas Eve was completely ruined because I spilled some water during lunch. It’s always been like that. Everything I did was wrong. I knocked the glass over, and the water went everywhere. It was a pure accident, but my father just kept saying over and over again how clumsy I was. So fucking clumsy.”
“And how did you react?”
“I got upset, which he hated.You’re too sensitive, Henrik.” He imitated his father’s deep voice—how often had he heard those words? “That’s why I like TV. I can pretend to be someone else. I follow the script, and it all goes according to plan.” He cleared his throat; he hadn’t intended to reveal so much, or to express such strong feelings. And yet ... the way they were talking now was genuine. And he loved it.
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll speak to the production team, see if we can get ahold of a tree. Maybe we could trim it in one of the episodes,” he added in an attempt to change the subject and shake offthe tenderness and intimacy that had infused their conversation. It was all too much.
“Yes, that’s fine, but ...” She looked a little uncertain.
“Let me guess—there’s a tradition associated with the tree?” He couldn’t help laughing.
She sighed. “It’s just that I’ve always chosen the tree myself. In the middle of the day so you can check it out properly, with a thermos of mulled wine.” She glanced at the green thermos on the table. “That thermos. My friend Bea and her family come along, too, and choose their tree at the same time.”
“We’ll make sure you can do that—it’ll work beautifully for the show.”
Nora nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for all your help.”
Those blue eyes made him think that the honesty and intimacy between them might easily lead to something more.
27
Filming over the next few days was a lot more pleasant. When Nora presented her pared-back list of baked goods—which Henrik had already praised when there were no cameras present—he made a few suggestions and they bickered a little as usual, but they also had some fun. And she found she had nothing against the flirtation—a smile that lasted a fraction of a second too long, a teasing but warm remark. In fact, she had to remind herself that it was just for the show. But she was starting to enjoy spending time with Henrik. For real. Or rather—no, it wasn’t for real at all.
On Saturday the production team had arranged for Nora to go and buy a Christmas tree, and then there would be a break in filming because Henrik had to attend the board meeting in Stockholm.
When Nora met up with the team on Saturday morning, Henrik was already there with a dark-blue knapsack over his shoulder. “I’ve taken care of the mulled wine.” He fished out the green thermos. “And some gingerbread cookies.” He held up a tin. “So I assume we’re good to go.”
“Absolutely.” The fact that he had remembered these details gave her a lovely warm feeling, but she told herself it was only because she wasn’t used to him being so considerate.
