Gina walked quietly next to him. Peter didn’t speak either, and the silence between them grew and grew.

“Where do you want to go?” he eventually asked.

“Where can we talk?”

“A café?” He pointed toward Stureplan.

“No. Do you live nearby?”

He nodded.

“Let’s go there, then.”

They said nothing else during the short walk to his street.

“You live here?” Gina asked, looking up at the gray building with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied, embarrassed. The property was undeniably grand. He punched in the door code and held the door open for her.

“There’s no elevator,” he explained. “I live on the fourth floor.”

They went up the wide, marble Östermalm stairs in silence. Gina glanced at the letter boxes; exclusive prefixes like von and af were in the majority here, signs of the noble lineage of the occupants, but she didn’t comment.

Peter unlocked the door, stepped to one side, and let her in.

He took her jacket and hung it up. “Let’s go into the living room,” he said. “If you sit down, I’ll make some tea.”

When he came back with two mugs, Gina was on the sofa with a pillow on her lap.

Peter sat slightly away from her, not wanting to intrude. She twisted the corner of the pillow between her thumb and forefinger.

“I wanted to apologize,” she finally began.

He almost tripped over the words in his rushed reply. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m the one who should apologize. I should have talked to you first.”

“I know I can be hypersensitive. Suspicious. It’s something I need to work on.”

“You’ve been through a lot. You’ve had reason to distrust people. I’m sure it’s saved you plenty of times. But believe me, you have nothing to apologize for as far as I’m concerned.”

“I was just a kid when we left Somalia. Dad was married, did I tell you that? To a younger woman. My mom died when Amir was born. Dad got remarried so we’d have a mother. But she was from a tiny village, and she had different ideas from ours, and a huge clan behind her. You’ve met my dad. He’s a good man. His new wife wanted me to get married to a cousin of hers. I was eleven.”

Peter said nothing. As an eleven-year-old, he’d had all the material comforts there were. Had gone to school. Played soccer with his friends.

“Amir was so small, but Dad’s new wife wanted nothing to do with him; she pushed him away. It was horrible to watch. Dad tried to talk to her, but they just argued. And then he ended up fighting with some of the guerillas. Things got dangerous. So he took us, and we left.” Her voice sank. “He left everything for us.”

“I understand,” he said. “What happened to his wife?”

“She was a woman who always looked out for her own interests,” said Gina. “She was probably just relieved to get rid of us. Since then, it’s been the three of us.”

She quickly wiped her cheek.

Peter got up and fetched a pack of tissues, handed her one, and sat down next to her. Gina blew her nose.

“I overreacted,” she said. “When you came over. But I was scared. I know you meant well.”

“It’s okay, Gina. My sister always talks about how white men with power need to be more sensitive to other people’s needs. I used to think she was a pain, but lots has changed. I’m just at the beginning. You can be mad at me. There are so many times I haven’t spoken up, pretended not to hear. I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

She reached out and touched his wrist.

Peter’s heart practically stopped in his chest. Gina leaned forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and kissed him on the lips. At first, he didn’t dare move, but then he kissed her back, tenderly, reverently.

She pulled away. Gave him a serious look.

“In my country, young girls are subjected to female genital mutilation, Peter. Do you remember we talked about it?”

He had trouble breathing. “Yes,” he said quietly. He swallowed. Couldn’t get another word past his lips. No, God.

“My mother had been against it, but Dad’s new wife was worried no one would want to marry me, and she said people would call me a whore. She decided to have it done to me when Dad was away. I know some people call that custom a cultural expression, but it’s not. It’s a horrible mutilation of a young girl’s sexual parts. Cruelty and repression. It leaves scars for life, painful ones. Destroys a woman’s chances of being able to enjoy married life. Of having children without complications. It’s not religion.” Her gaze was steady.

His mouth was completely dry. “I’m so sorry,” he said helplessly, cautiously taking her hand. It was slender and light in his. She wore a simple silver ring around her thumb, and he wanted to cry at the thought of what she had told him.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

“There were so many of them. They forced me down on a rug. Four or maybe five women. They were going to use a razor blade. I was so scared. But Dad came home, just in time and he snatched me away, saved me from them, simply refused to allow it,” she said. “Refused. He saved me—many girls don’t survive—and then we fled. He gave up so much for my sake. And he’s never put any demands on me. He trusts me. But I have demands of myself. Do you follow?”

Peter nodded, though he didn’t quite understand. This was so far removed from his everyday life.

“I promised myself I would wait for a good man. A kind man. I really haven’t been so good at trusting. I’ve seen too much. But now it feels like I’ve found him.”

She squeezed his hand, linked her slender fingers through his. The contrast was so damn beautiful his throat burned. Peter cleared his throat.

“But you know I’m not a good person? I told you what I did. Of all the men you’ve met, I’m not the best, I can promise you that.” His voice broke. If he could just go back in time, start over, atone for his sins. “You know what happened, I …”

“Idiot,” she said, and she kissed him again.

Peter wasn’t quite sure what was happening. But Gina was on his couch, kissing him, and so he decided not to analyze the situation too much.

He pulled her to him, gently. She put an arm around his neck, and their kiss deepened. Without thinking, he raised a hand to her breast.

She froze, and he pulled his hand back.

“Sorry,” he quickly said.

“Idiot,” she mumbled into his mouth.

“Gina, I can’t …” he choked. He hadn’t been with a woman in so long. He would embarrass himself. She was so beautiful, deserved the best.

“Don’t you want to?” she asked quietly.

He laughed at the question. It was so far from the truth. “Yeah, so much it hurts,” he said honestly. “But Gina …”

“But what?” She gave him a serious look. Dark eyes, skin like silk.

“I don’t understand,” he said, frustrated. “You want to? With me? Why?”

She slapped him, square on the face. It was so completely unexpected that he could only stare. She had small, slim hands, but she was strong, and her palm made his cheek sting.

“What are—?”

She hit him again. Hard. His cheek burned. Peter got up from the couch and she did the same, stood in front of him breathing heavily.

“Gina,” he said helplessly. What had he done?

She positioned herself. He saw her hand approaching, and she hit him again, even harder this time. The sound echoed through the room. She didn’t wait, and raised her hand again. Peter tensed.

She lowered it; her hand fell to her side.

“Why?” she asked, breathlessly. “Because. Because you’re a good person. Because you think you’re bad, that you have to stay away from women, and because you think you’re some kind of monster. But I’ve met monsters, Peter. Real monsters. You aren’t one of them. You don’t hit back, not even when I hit you like that, completely unprovoked, like some madwoman. You’re a gentleman. You’re kind, you’re considerate.”

“But what I did to Carolina …”

“Everyone has the potential for both good and evil. Everyone can cause pain. But you’re not the person now you might have been when you were at school.”

“I don’t think I could do something like that again. God, I hope not.” He had made a promise to himself that he would rather kill himself than do anything like that again. Not because he was a good person but because he wouldn’t be able to live with any more guilt. “I regret it so much.”

“You gave my brother the one thing he wanted most. You gave your time. You listen. You’re thoughtful and you care. That’s why. Idiot,” she added.

“But—”

“No.” She sharply cut him off. “No buts. I want to sleep with you. If you don’t want to, fine. But if you do, you have to stop going on about being a bad person.”

“I want to,” he said quietly.

She stuck out her chin, and defiantly said, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I do. More than anything. Not to sleep with you, but to make love to you.”

She bit her lip. “Well, then.”

They kissed again, standing, embracing. An adult, awesome, magnificent kiss.

She pulled away, and her eyes fell to his chest.

“There’s just one thing you should know.”

“What?” He stroked her upper arm, thought that he could be happy with a world in which he got to caress Gina’s smooth skin.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, though she still avoided his gaze. She chewed her lip. “But I should probably tell you.”

“What?”

“Don’t freak out, or give it any importance. But technically, I’m …” She swallowed, looked up, and met his eye. “I’m a virgin.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah, right? No. I’ve never slept with a man. And you’re the only one I’ve kissed.”

He had no idea how she had made it through life un-kissed, but he was apparently smart enough not to say anything more. He already had performance anxiety at the thought of being with this beautiful, young woman. He had to make it perfect for her. Offer her something other than tea to drink. Some food, maybe. Court her.

“Peter?”

“I need to sit down.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

He took her hand and pulled her down onto the couch, touched a hand to her cheek, and kissed her. “I don’t think there’s anything I want more in the world right now.”

He didn’t say it, but he thought the words.

I love you.

Over and over again.

I love you, Gina.

The relief made Gina want to giggle. But she wasn’t sure she had ever giggled, so she smiled and allowed herself to be kissed by Peter again. She had told him, and he had taken the news splendidly.

She hadn’t planned on being a virgin at the age of twenty-two. That was just how things had panned out. She wasn’t one of those girls who’d had a boyfriend in high school. The years went by and she never met anyone she liked, and suddenly she was so old it was starting to get embarrassing. Logically she knew she couldn’t be the only adult virgin in the world, but she had been waiting for the right person, and he had never turned up. Until now. In the shape of a divorced, white financier. Someone up there must really have a sense of humor.

Peter took her hand. They ended up in the bathroom. It was about the same size as Gina’s family’s living room.

“Wow,” she said, reluctantly impressed.

“I know,” he said, as he took out some soft hand towels and put them down on a bench. “The real estate agent waxed lyrical when I bought this place. I thought it was ridiculously big, but now I’m pleased. Now that you’re here. I thought we could take a shower together?”

Gina nodded. She took another step into the room, and it was like entering a spa. Not that she’d ever been in one, but it smelled so clean and aromatic. The lighting consisted of tiny bulbs, like stars in the ceiling. Everything was subdued, calm, soft.

Peter took off his shirt, and she glanced at his chest. He was in good shape. Not super muscular, but still pretty solid. Narrow hips, a dark blond line of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his pants. She should feel shy, but it was as though they’d passed that stage. Instead she put a hand on his chest and spread her fingers over his muscles. Her hand was dark, almost black against his faint tan. He put a hand on top of hers, kissed her, and she thought that it had probably been worth it, waiting for these kisses.

They helped one another undress. Peter was so unbelievably gentle with her, with featherlight fingers and soft kisses, that she felt like a princess. The bathroom was big enough for a group of armchairs. Peter sat her down in one of them and squatted in front of her. Slipped off her canvas shoes and put them carefully to one side. Ran his hands over her calves and up, over her hips. Helped her take her panties off, folded them up. He was so tender, so calm, that Gina allowed herself to be swept along. He kissed her knees, her stomach, and her collarbone before they went into the shower together.

Gina had studied medicine for almost two semesters. She knew her anatomy. They had taken classes in chemistry, biology, and the physiology of the body. But that said, she had no idea how a man’s penis would feel in her hand, how warm and hard and intimate it would feel in her palm. Had never realized how different someone else’s fingers would feel as they wandered over her skin.

He lathered her up, carefully, gently, almost humbly. The shower rained down on them and they kissed. He rinsed her off, dried her in an enormous towel. Crouched down, dried her feet, her calves, her thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

And Gina felt beautiful. Not just exotic and young. But like a desirable grown woman.

They made love in his bed. He took his time with her, kissed and touched her until she was more than ready. He was careful when he entered her, and it felt so good that Gina thought to herself that it had been really smart of her to wait for him.

She stroked his hair, felt him move inside her. It was better than she had expected. Different, but better. More serious. He was so chivalrous and attentive to her every need, so good and protective.

Afterward, they lay and talked. Touched one another, got close, adjusted to their newfound intimacy.

“Are you okay?” he asked for maybe the fifteenth time as he gently caressed her nose, her forehead, her mouth. Kissed her, doted on her.

“I think this has been one of the best days of my life.”

“I know it’s the best day of mine,” he said. “Did it hurt?”

“Not a bit, actually. My poor body must have been so shocked to be having sex that it forgot to protest.”

“If it’s alright for me to say so, I love your body.”

He fell silent, and the word love hung in the air.

Gina smiled and put a hand on his face. She had strong feelings for him, otherwise she wouldn’t have done what she had. But she was in no rush. And she knew Peter wouldn’t put any pressure on her.

He moved closer to her, on top, and Gina giggled. Again. She rolled her eyes and then laughed out loud.

And then they made love again.