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“She won’t agree,” says Wille, pacing back and forth.
Simon looks at him with fond affection, about to wear a hole in the rug in the hallway of their Stockholm apartment.
“She will.”
“She won’t. Why would she? I don’t think I would, if I was her.” He chews anxiously on one thumbnail, still pacing, and Simon thinks it’s about time he put a stop to that.
He crosses the hall until he’s in front of Wille, forcing him to pause. Then Simon brings his hands up to gently wrap them around Wille’s wrists, holding him still. “She will. Because she loves us. And if she doesn’t agree, she’ll have good reasons, and we’ll respect them because we love her. So either way, it will be fine.”
Wille sighs, shoulders finally relaxing a little from where they’ve been up by his ears all morning. He bumps his forehead against Simon’s and they both take a breath together, grounding themselves. “I just…it’s all riding on this, if she says no…”
“She won’t.”
Wille snorts, his huff of air warm against Simon’s skin. “Wanna bet?”
“Sure. What’s the stake? How about all housework for three months?”
“No deal,” Wille says promptly, then laughs. “Wow, you really are sure.”
“I just have a feeling.” He wraps his arms around Wille’s neck, who automatically reciprocates, sliding his own arms around Simon’s waist to pull him closer. “But all we can do is ask her and see--”
He’s interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, followed less than a split second later by the door itself opening. Felice doesn’t really count as a guest, so the doorbell is there simply to announce her presence before she lets herself in. In case she walks in on them canoodling again. Her word.
Simon moves to help her with the large tote bag she’s carrying as Felice greets them cheerfully, if a little breathlessly.
“Hi! Hope you haven’t prepared anything yet.” She hangs up her jacket and shakes out her hair. “I brought lunch.”
“We invited you for lunch,” Wille points out, following them both into the kitchen where Simon hands the bag back to Felice.
She unpacks it, spreading the mouth-watering contents out on the table. “I know, I know, but I had a batch of fresh tortillas to use up, so I’ve been experimenting. I’ve got quesadillas, and I’ve got two sorts of wraps – these are fried chicken in a crispy Thai green curry coating with a red pepper mayonnaise, and those ones are vegan, smoked tofu marinated in a kind of Korean-style sauce I guess, it’s got gochujang and soy sauce, a bit of chilli. Oh, and some leftover salad with a tahini dressing from yesterday. And I brought dessert as well, it’s a…well, I’m not really sure what to call it yet, it’s kind of a tiramisu-inspired brownie-based ice cream cake, if I could just pop it in your freezer for a minute. If you don’t mind being my guinea pigs!”
“When have we ever minded being your guinea pigs?” says Simon, already heading for the cupboard for plates. There’s a store-bought salad and various meats and cheeses in the fridge just in case Felice hadn’t turned up with food, but it was a slim chance. The few hours a week she’s not at her job as sous chef in a busy restaurant, she’s usually experimenting with new recipes at home.
“This smells amazing, thank you,” says Wille, digging in the drawer for cutlery.
They busy themselves for a minute sorting out the spread and arranging themselves around the kitchen table. As tempting as it looks though, Simon is feeling too on edge to start eating yet. He looks at Wille and can see he’s in the same boat.
Felice notices, because of course she does. “Come on, then.”
“Hmm?”
“Whatever it is you need to tell me. The reason you summoned me.”
“Okay, we didn’t ‘summon’ you anywhere,” says Wille; but he exchanges a look with Simon, who gives him a brief, reassuring nod. He lays one hand up on the table and Wille takes it, linking their fingers together as they present a united front. “But…we do have something we wanted to ask you.”
Simon takes over as they’d previously discussed, his heart hammering in his chest. “So…you know we’ve been doing a lot of talking and thinking about the future lately, and what that looks like long-term.”
“Uh huh.” Felice isn’t giving anything away, watching them both cautiously.
“And you know we’ve decided we are going to stay in Sweden after all, and build a life here. And we’ve been talking a lot about what that life might look like. So that we’re not just existing here but making it a real home. And I guess,” says Simon over the sound of his own heartbeat, suddenly nervous despite all of his earlier confidence, “that’s where you might come in.”
“Guys, no,” says Felice, interrupting before he has a chance to get to the point.
Simon feels his breath stop in his throat and his hopes plummet to the floor as Wille’s hand jumps compulsively in his.
She does at least look sad about it, verging on tearful as she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. I thought you might ask, but…you know I love you both, right? You’re my best friends, we’re family, and I’d do anything for you…but not this. It’s not what I want.”
“Oh.” Simon clutches Wille’s hand a little tighter, knowing what he must be feeling right now.
“It’s going to sound so selfish I know, but I’m trying to get somewhere with my career, and that’s what I need to focus on right now, you know? And even if I wasn’t, well, I’m honestly not sure if I want to ever have kids at all, but if I did it wouldn’t be like this. I don’t think I could put myself and my body through that just to hand them over. I’d want to be their full-time mum I think. I’m sorry.”
“Felice,” says Wille gently, leaning forward. “What exactly is it you think we’re asking you to do?”
She stops, eyes flicking between their faces. “You want me to be a surrogate. Don’t you?” she asks slowly as they both start to roar with laughter.
“Why on earth would you think that?” says Simon eventually, as Wille subsides into chuckles next to him.
“Hey, I had good reasons!” protests Felice, though from her smile she’s beginning to see the funny side herself. “You both went all insanely gooey over Sara’s baby, and you both kept looking at me and whispering when they were visiting. And you said something really weird the other night, Wille,” she adds with an accusing finger, “remember? When we'd all been on the wine, and you kept going on about how the three of us were a family, and the city is no place for families...”
“It’s still one hell of a leap!”
“I’m not sure we did go gooey over the baby,” says Simon, still laughing, “but even if we did, it's different! You get to have cuddles and then hand them back as soon as they start to smell. Let someone else worry about sleepless nights and are they feeding enough and should their poo look like that… No, thank you.”
“All right, I get it,” says Felice, smiling widely now. She looks as relieved as Simon feels. “So what did you want to ask me?”
They exchange glances again, the nerves creeping back as the amusement dies down.
“I suppose…we do want you to create a kind of baby with us. In a way. How would you feel about a hotel?”
“A…?” Mouth hanging open, Felice stares at them in shock.
“I know it might sound a bit mad,” says Wille quietly. “But think about it. You want to set up on your own, be a chef patron. I need a project, something to do with my inheritance, and you know I love design, and I’ve got that house…”
‘House’ is a fairly underwhelming description for the sixteen-bedroomed slott in a large country estate that Wille had inherited from a grandparent who thought he might need it one day, but Simon lets the word slide.
“…and Simon is desperate to work for himself, get away from those awful corporate clients, and he’s got the business experience you and I don’t have, so we thought…why not? The three of us? Together?”
It’s hard to read Felice’s face as she sits for a minute, thinking. Then her expression softens, just enough, and Simon’s heart leaps back up in his chest.
Wille squeezes his hand in anticipation as they wait.
“I’ve seen that house,” she says eventually, and Simon doesn’t correct her, either. “It would cost an absolute fortune to turn it into a decent hotel.”
“Well,” says Wille, deadpan, “luckily I’ve got one of those. And so have you.”
She nods, staying casual; but there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes and Simon knows they’ve got her. “I’d need a proper kitchen put in. No skimping on equipment.”
“Of course.”
“What else are you thinking? A spa?”
“Spa, swimming pool, maybe stables,” says Simon, taking over again. “There’s the lake, so we can definitely offer boating and fishing and so on. Access is a slight issue, we might have to widen the road, but we’ve been in touch with the local planning department and they’re onboard, we think. There’s a bunch of hideous outbuildings put up in the sixties they’d be more than happy for us to demolish and replace with something more traditional and appropriate to the surroundings, which is a plus on our side.”
“Wow.” Felice sits back, grinning widely. “You’re serious about this.”
“Completely,” Wille assures her. “I’ll get my laptop, show you the plans…”
“After lunch.”
He sits back down, suitably chastened.
“And you can tell me what you think should be on the menu when we open.”
“So you’re in?”
She raises a chicken wrap in one hand like she’s making a toast, and with delight, Will and Simon both copy the gesture, bumping them all together. A shower of shredded lettuce falls over the tabletop.
“I’m in.”