Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Dex whistled as he stabbed his fork into the buttercream and fudge concoction. “I could be here all night. Wanna help?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Me? Don’t be silly.”
“I can’t help you either,” Freya added. “This is for you, Dad.”
His affable smile slipped for a beat, but he recovered quickly and allowed himself to be led to the pile of pastel beribboned presents.
I gently rested a hand on Freya’s belly and spoke in Swedish. “How do you feel?”
“Good. But tired. This is a lot of people.”
“Come. I’ll find a quiet place for you to sit and—”
“No, no.” Freya hooked her arm through mine. “I want to watch for a bit. I’ve been living with this little person for months, and I want to picture the baby in all the little outfits, tiny socks, and itty-bitty hats. You’ll send me photos, right?” Freya didn’t wait for a reply. “I think I’ve done a good thing. I know you didn’t want anything to do with this, but helping Dex has helped us, too. I’m proud of us, Viggo.”
I narrowed my eyes but ignored the comment. “Hmm. When do you go to Sweden?”
“December twenty-fourth. Three weeks should be enough time to heal, and it’s not like I’ll be doing anything.” She rubbed her baby bump and chuckled. “It might not look like it, but I’ve been denying myself for too long. I plan to lie on a settee and eat pepparkakor and all the sweet somethings I want. Don’t worry…I’ll bring you treats from home, too.”
“No need for that. I decided to join you.”
Freya froze mid “ooh” at the mini Nikes Dex unwrapped and pivoted to me with her brow knit. “Viggo.”
“What?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t leave…not now.”
I shrugged, unable to put words and feelings together. “Not forever. Just a short trip. A reset. I bought the ticket.”
“You’re needed here, though. You have to stay. You’re—”
“Shh. No more.”
“What about Dex?” she whispered. “You could be this baby’s father. You could help him and—”
“And what? Don’t weave fantasies, Freya,” I scolded sharply. “That’s not how this works.”
“But you care about Dex.”
“Yes. Enough to know when to let go.”
Freya bit her bottom lip and sighed. She probably had a few things to add, but someone pulled her into a conversation and for now, I was off the hook.
Later, I helped Dex load the presents into both of our SUVs, then took Freya to my house. She was staying with me for the weekend. But she was tired after the festivities, and I didn’t want to leave baby things in my trunk. That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it. I drove back to Dex’s house and unloaded the new infant car seat, a stroller, something called a Diaper Genie, and a few million bags of clothes into his garage.
Dex chatted all the while—the clothes were so tiny, Freya was beautiful, the baby was moving so much you could practically see fingers and toes. An exaggeration, of course, but he was excited and I loved the sound of his voice. I kissed him when he paused for air and suggested going inside.
“How about going for a walk?”
I arched my brows. “In the dark?”
“Yeah, let’s go to the lake.”
“Put a hat on. It’s cold.”
Dex pulled one from his coat pocket and motioned for me to follow him to the public pathway leading to Lake Norman. It was well lit and wide enough for two grown men to walk side by side. We kicked through the debris of fallen leaves and glanced up at the stars. I pointed out Venus.
He tilted his chin, and asked, “What are your parents like?”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Just curious. I know they’re a retired doctor and nurse, but you never really mention them, and you don’t have family photos in your house. Do you get your height from your dad, your looks from your mom?”
I frowned harder still. “I don’t know. I don’t think about it.”
Dex rolled his eyes and motioned for me to join him at a lone bench near the water’s edge. I stared at the moon’s glittery reflection and tried to think of a topic change.
Too late.
“They’ve been married a long time, right?”
“Forty-three years.”
He crossed his arms and whistled. “You’re lucky. They must love each other.”
I snorted. “I don’t know about that. I think they’re…used to one another. Like an old chair you’ve had for years. You sort of like it, you sort of don’t. But you know you’ll never get rid of it. That’s not the same as being in love.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Anyone can tell. They’re too sharp, a little cutting, a little cruel. Raising kids and having careers was hard on them. Sometimes I think they stayed together because they thought they had to. Kids always know, and they suffer for it. My house was…pretty cold. I can be cold. I would hate to do that to a child.”