“She is, yeah.”
“She should go into computer coding when she gets older,” he says.
“She should?”
“People who are good with patterns tend to excel in that field. Pattern recognition allows programmers to identify recurring structures or sequences within a problem, making it easier for them to understand and solve.”
I study him. “How do you know that? Is that what you do?”
“No. I, uh…must’ve read it somewhere.”
My lips twitch, but I don’t call him out on his white lie. I’ve noticed the way he avoids looking at me, doesn’t like touch, anddoesn’t like too much noise. And that all tells me…it’s more than him just reading about such subjects. He’s like Sofia.
“Well, thanks. I’ll remember that for when she’s older. And thanks for all this. Truly.”
His cheeks pinken slightly as he shrugs. “Don’t mention it. I just…” He drags a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to make sure they’ve got stuff to do. Leon’s content with sticking everything in his mouth and doesn’t seem to cry as much now that you’re here. But Sofia…”
Sofia is a little harder to entertain. I know that, and I nod. She’s always been like this, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. She’s just different than her brother, and I love her for it. She’s never really been interested in toys, not even the ones that clutter the floor around us right now. Before Viktor got the puzzles out, she just stared at the dolls and games like she wasn’t sure what she was meant to be doing with them.But the fact that he even noticed has my stomach swarming with butterflies.
“Done,” Sofia proclaims as she finishes yet another puzzle.
“New record, kiddo,” Viktor praises. “How about we leave those for later.”
She nods, looking around the room as if she’s getting a little bored but is unsure what to do next. The Barbies and the dream house—a beautiful white mansion I’d wished I’d had as a girl—remain untouched. The tea set and pretend kitchen as well. “What do I do now?” Sofia whispers. She looks unsure.
I look about the room, trying to find something else that might interest her. Anything…
“There’s a garden,” Viktor says suddenly. Both Sofia and I look to him. “Out back. We could go there. If you want?”
“What kind of garden?” Sofia asks.
I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t need to entertain her if he’s busy with work, but Sofia’s eyes are sparking with interest, and I hate to crush that.
“Vegetables,” he blurts out.
My mouth drops a little. “You have a vegetable garden?”
Again, his cheeks pinken, and he scrubs the back of his neck with his hand. Almost like he’s embarrassed about the fact he has a garden.
And to be fair, it’s not exactly what I pictured him to be like in his spare time. But the mental image of him—his sleeves rolled up, tattoos exposed, and arm muscles straining as he works in a garden—makes me squeeze my legs together. Shaking my head, I swiftly banish that picture from my mind.
“I do,” he answers. “It’s…not anything special.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say, and Sofia nods eagerly. “Gardening is a special talent. I’ve always wanted my own garden, but we’ve been living in apartments. The most we’ve done is some herbs in window boxes.”
“Can we see it? Please?” Sofia asks.
He nods. “We can.”
Sofia jumps to her feet. A smile tugs at my lips once more at her enthusiasm. She skips toward the door before I follow.
“You should stay and rest,” Viktor says in a gruff tone.
I shake my head. “Not a chance. I want to see this garden too.” I pop Leon in his stroller.
I swear I hear a sharp intake of air as I pass Viktor—although I’m careful not to touch him this time. He’s been so kind and considerate, and it’s the least I can do.
I pause at the door, looking back to where he’s frozen by the coffee table, his brow pinched like he’s trying to work out some tough problem in his head. “Are you coming, Viktor?”
