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on my face.

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
    Danish Surprise
    G oing to Copenhagen released something inside of me. All of the tension dissipated and I felt like could breathe again. It was a feeling I always had whenever I arrived. Was it the city's irreverent grittiness? It was just as beautiful as Stockholm, but less studied. Copenhagen didn't mind if you saw it on an off day, whereas Stockholm always strived for perfection. While my colleagues were more impatient, making beelines for the taxi stands as soon as we’d disembarked, I liked discovering the city slowly and opted for the train. I wasn't in the mood for small talk, so I told them I would meet them at the hotel.
    Our first meeting didn't start until after lunch, which gave me time to check in at the hotel, and call Copenh agen Cryo to make sure my appointment was still on. I almost felt like a secret agent with all this subterfuge. And imagining myself as a modern day Emma Peel made me laugh at myself. Here I was, trying to hide from the man who was effectively my husband that I was trying to figure out how to have a baby without him. And my guilt ate away at me. What the hell was I doing? I pulled out my iPhone and sent Niklas a guilty text that said, "I love you so much." I did. So why did I feel like I was cheating on him by even considering using someone else's DNA to help me have a baby?
    And why was I so obsessed with a baby being mine? By the time I arrived at the hotel, I'd almost convinced myself to call Copenhagen Cryo and cancel my appoin tment. But then I thought about it—I wasn't committing to anything. I was just getting information. Information could possibly help me—help us—especially since Niklas was warming up to the idea of us starting our own family. By the time I was on my way to the offices of Jensen, Fogh & Ogilvy, I'd talked myself into believing Niklas would thank me for taking the initiative, and not waiting or simply relying on information found online.
    *      *      *
    Copenhagen Cryo turned out to be easier to find than I'd expected. It was just around the corner from the Hotel Kong Arthur, in an office block that looked more like a five-star hotel than a medical clinic. I'd expected something very plain, or the cookie-cutter medical offices I was used to from back home; nice enough that you were glad your doctor had one but bland enough to have zero distinction. But this office was very Danish design—all wengé wood and muted colors. It was obvious that the architects and interior designers worshipped at the altar of Arne Jacobssen—there were teal-hued Egg and Swan chairs and sleek edges. A floor-to-ceiling wall of glass let in pale shafts of watery light as it overlooked Nørre Søgade and the bridge to Nørrebrø.
    The young woman sitting behind the receptionist desk, who looked more suited to the cover of Elle rather than behind a desk in a clinic, watched me with an e xpressionless face as I approached her from the elevator bank. As soon as I was close enough, the expression on her face warmed, and she allowed a smile to form. "Welcome to Copenhagen Cryo," she said. "Are you here for an appointment, or an information session?"
    " I'm here for an information session with…" I glanced down at the name I'd saved on my phone's reminder app. "Ida Friis?"
    " And you are?"
    " Laney Halliwell."
    The Ice Blonde nodded and tapped away at her co mputer. "Ah, yes. There you are." Then she called my Client Services Assistant on what looked like the very latest  iPhone. "Have a seat, and she'll be right with you."
    I chose one of the Egg chairs and tried to look as calm and collected as I imagined Eddy would be in this situ ation. Nothing ever seemed to faze my cousin. Something completely out of the ordinary happened, and she was more likely to raise an eyebrow than to have a mental breakdown or burst into uncontrollable tears. I was the one who usually lost control, or who froze and couldn't think straight. And she was usually the