Emerald woke to the rhythmic cadence of Eva's voice drifting up from the floor below. Still trapped in the haze of sleep, he stumbled downstairs, his vision dim and heavy. When he reached the kitchen, he found Eva already there; she spared him a fleeting look, her eyes shimmering with a trace of pity for his disheveled state.
Without a word, Emerald pulled out a chair and began munching on breakfast before even brushing his teeth—a primal, human act of hunger. Eva watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved about the stove, her movements fluid and clinical.
"Where's Fidel?" Emerald asked between bites.
"He's on vacation," Eva replied, flipping a pancake with effortless grace. "Since you're on one, it only seemed fair."
"Hmm. Good for him."
"Since he's absent, I'll be doing the cooking, and you'll be doing the cleaning. Clear?"
Emerald nodded in silent acceptance. Once finished, he stepped to the sink and began the dishes. Eva watched him, her gaze a silent validator of his domestic skills. To her surprise, he performed the housework with a quiet, practiced efficiency, the clatter of porcelain the only sound in the room.
As he finished, Eva smoothed her clothes. "We're going on an outing to see an old friend. Get ready."
"Bet it's some old lord," Emerald retorted, his voice dry.
"And what if it is? Got a problem with nobility, brat?"
Emerald simply shrugged, a silent surrender, and went to prepare.
Climbing down the stairs a few minutes later, Emerald found Eva waiting in the front yard. She tossed a set of keys toward him; they glinted in the morning light before he caught them.
"You know I don't have a license to drive here," Emerald noted, frowning at the keys.
In response, Eva tossed a small plastic card. Emerald caught it and stared: it was a Swedish driver's license with his face and name. "Are you for real? A fake license?"
Eva just gave him a look that clearly said, Are you for real, brat?
Understanding the futility of the argument, Emerald headed to the garage. This time, it wasn't the SUV; it was a McLaren. He backed it out with the agonizing caution of a snail, the engine purring like a caged beast. Eva climbed into the passenger seat without a hint of worry, and Emerald began their cruise.
"Don't go dumping the gas all at once," Eva warned, watching his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. "Keep the gear high or you might crash."
He swallowed his ego, focusing on the road as the cityscape of Stockholm slowly bled into the countryside. The view transformed into a blur of deep greens and stark whites as they moved further into the Swedish heartland.
"Emy boy, take the next exit," Eva said, pointing to the glowing map on the dashboard.
"We've only been on the road for a bit. Why take the exit now?"
"Just do it, man."
He took the exit, following her staccato directions: Straight, left, right, left. They eventually reached a quaint town nestled near a shimmering stream and a narrow canal.
"So, what exactly are we doing here?" Emerald asked as they stepped out into the crisp air.
"Just a snack. This place has a good coffee. I bet you'll like it."
They entered a warm, inviting cafe and took a table overlooking the water. The interior was a sanctuary against the winter chill.
"So, what do you want?" Eva asked with a glint in her eye. "I can translate the menu, or we can go for an all-out buffet."
"All out, then. But just an Irish coffee for the drink," Emerald replied.
The table soon filled with an impossible amount of food. The other customers watched with subtle concern, likely wondering how two people could consume so much. Emerald's focus shifted entirely to the Apfelstrudel. The melody of the crunching pastry and the warmth of the coffee defeated the cold outside. Surprisingly, it was Eva who settled the bill.
As they walked back to the car, they encountered an old couple entering the cafe. The old man struggled with a heavy bag, and Eva, with a sudden flash of grace, stepped forward to help him.
"Anytime, sir," Eva said warmly as the man thanked her.
"Your brother?" the old lady asked, gesturing toward Emerald as he stepped out of the McLaren.
Eva took a quick glance at Emerald, then looked back at the woman with a brilliant, steady smile. "Nah. He's my man."
"He's quite young, ha ha!" the old man chuckled.
"Quite like us, darling," the old lady mused, her eyes twinkling. "My wife here is older than me," the old man added, launching into a story. "We met back in Stockholm; she was my senior at the company. But I'm the man! She doesn't know a thing about cars... look where she asked for help!"
As the couple laughed and headed inside, the old lady whispered loudly to Emerald, "She's afraid of losing you, you see!"
The car cabin was silent for a long time after they pulled away.
"How many hours?" Eva asked, checking the map.
"Three to go. We'll be there by lunch," Emerald replied plainly.
"There's a castle nearby that I used to stay at," Eva began, her voice drifting into a rare moment of nostalgia. "Lövstad Castle. It was a beauty. Sadly, it's a museum now. Sorry for not giving you the tour."
"No need to be so kind, Eva," Emerald said, his voice tightening. "I've been wanting to ask something."
"Let it out, kid."
"You didn't hesitate to tell that couple we were together. Why?"
"Why? You need me to hesitate from now on?"
"I just learned something, that's all," Emerald said, his gaze fixed on the road. "Women are hard to understand. Even you. When you lied to them, your eyes had no warmth."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a loyal woman, Eva Brown. Hard to come by. Your heart hasn't wavered once since I've known you. You deserve someone as great as you are. And I think you'll find them."
Eva stared at him, her expression unreadable. "You know, Emerald, sometimes you say the damnedest things with a straight face. I hate that."
"It's just a statement. You said Lenya was a goddess. Well, you're one too, for someone. Just because it's not the right time doesn't mean it won't happen. God won't disappoint an aching soul."
"See, Emy boy? I don't believe in God. Keep your eyes on the road."
The remaining three hours flew by in a blur of philosophy and silence. They finally reached the destination as evening began to settle: the grand Toftaholm Manor. It felt less like a house and more like a historic monument to luxury.
"This is it," Eva said, her spirits rising. "We're meeting the man of the moment. I bet you're going to love this guy."
They walked into the lobby, where a receptionist named Jessica looked up with a professional, yet doubtful, smile.
"I'm looking for Maria Segar," Eva said firmly.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, we don't have a Greta working here—"
"Not Greta. Maria. Maria Segar. Tell her it's Brown."
Jessica's demeanor shifted instantly. She picked up the phone, whispered a few words, and then gestured for them to wait. A few minutes later, a woman emerged. She had long, flowing blonde hair and blue eyes that were striking even in the dimming light. Her voice, when she spoke, was like a flute—sweet, light, and perfectly pitched.
"Jessica, they are with me. Special guests," Maria said, her blue eyes scanning Emerald.
She led them toward a boat moored in the backyard. As they boarded, Maria turned to Eva with a playful smirk. "Is this the wild cat?"
Eva nodded. They began to steer toward a small island in the distance.
"I ain't that wild," Emerald muttered, feeling out of place.
"Huh. But you're good with your hands," Maria countered. "Smacking twenty-three people is what I categorize as 'wild'."
Emerald shot a look of betrayal at Eva. She simply shrugged. "She's the one who did the censoring for the police report, Emerald. She had to know."
Emerald looked back at the blonde woman steering the boat. "You don't look like a lord," he stated bluntly.
Maria just laughed, the sound echoing over the water. "Well, you're just getting to see her. The title comes later."
(To be continued)