Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“If we don’t use something in here, what happens?” I asked, pouring a bowl of cereal from a box I knew I wouldn’t finish before we left.
Neil leaned against the counter and considered as he chewed a bite of his tempeh scramble. How he managed to eat that stuff first thing in the morning, I had no idea. “I assume the housekeepers take it home with them.”
“Could you make sure?” Maybe it was my recent return to my roots that had reminded me of all the times we’d had just enough food to get by. I hated to admit it, but I’d become one of those people who forgot what needing money was like the second I didn’t need it anymore. “I just don’t want it to go to waste.”
He nodded. “Certainly. You could leave a note, if you’d like.”
“Will they understand it? I mean, since I can’t write it in Icelandic?”
“I could write it for you, if you’re concerned. But, as far as I’m aware, my staff here speaks and reads English.”
“As far as you’re aware?” I frowned. “You don’t speak English with them?”
He looked like I’d just asked him why he didn’t have a tail. “No. Sophie, I lived here from age seven until I went to university. When I’m here, I speak Íslenska.”
“Oh.” I had meant to get Rosetta Stone or something to try and learn Neil’s second language, but the year had been kind of busy. Now, I felt a mild stab of panic. “Your brothers speak English though, right?”
“Yes, of course. They spent more of their childhoods in London than I did. Anyway, you’d be hard pressed to find someone here who doesn’t speak English.” He pointed his fork at me and narrowed his eyes in a playfully stern scowl. “But it wouldn’t hurt to try. With the family, that is. Not the general public.”
“I remember ‘Merry Christmas,’” I said with a laugh. “That’s going to have to do.”
“Do you now?” He took a sip of his coffee. “And how do you say it?”
“Gleh…um. Glehk-ee-leck yo?” My face got hot as I tried to contain my embarrassment at murdering the greeting.
He sputtered and set his coffee mug down, laughing as he reached for a napkin to wipe his face. “That might be the worst I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, excuse me,” I huffed, only partially offended. “You know, at least you didn’t have to learn a foreign language to meet my family.”
“Oh, didn’t I?” He chuckled ruefully. He set his plate on the counter and reached for me, snagging one arm around my waist as I moved to put the soymilk back in the fridge. He pulled me up against him, and I put the carton on the counter with a weary sigh. But I couldn’t be too mad, because he leaned his head and kissed me.
Even with his coffee breath, I couldn’t resist him.
He raised his head, arms still wrapped around me. “It’s Gleðileg jól. And Happy New Year is Hamingjusamur Nýtt Ár.”
I hesitated a moment, then giggled. “No, I’m not even going to try that one.”
Neil’s life in Reykjavik was completely different from his life in New York or in London. At the Belgravia house, we had a staff of five people. On his country estate, well, I had no idea. There were too many to count. And in Manhattan, he just had a housekeeper and a driver. Here, things seemed so…normal. Nobody waited on us, apart from stocking the kitchen and cleaning before we arrived. Nobody cooked our meals, and if I put down a dirty cup and walked away, it would still be where I left it when I returned. It was like real life, and I could have found myself getting used to it.
After we cleaned up our breakfast, Neil showered while I put on my makeup. It was almost eleven-thirty before the sun rose, and I watched the sky lighten over the bay as I dressed.
“Can you zip me?” I asked Neil as he emerged from the bathroom, a towel riding low on his hips. I held my hair up so he could pull the zipper on my red lace Dolce & Gabbana A-line dress. At my throat, I wore the diamond necklace Neil had given me for Christmas the year before. “This isn’t too much, is it? I don’t know how fancy your family is.”
“It might be too much, but don’t let that stop you,” he said, leaning to kiss the back of my neck before I let my hair down. “This is the first time they’re meeting you. Let me show you off a bit.”
Neil drove us to his brother’s house, about an hour outside of the city. Neil looked amazing in a dark berry-colored sweater and brown corduroy trousers. Our parkas were tossed in the backseat of the Range Rover, and I relaxed into the ride, eager to see some of the sights.