“Read much? This is impressive. You even have your books nicely arranged and backlit.”
“The winters are long up here. Got into the reading habit young.” I have a few favorites, reading, gardening, football, my son...and now Everly too.
“What you do with your spare time is very telling of your character.”
“Agreed. Other than football, I enjoy long walks on the beach, watching the sunset, and growing and preparing food.” I rinse some of the fruit we’ll have with dessert later.
“You’re not kidding, are you?”
The corner of my lip tickles toward a smile. “Nope. I also like the quiet, nature...”
“It’s quite the contrast to your Bruisers persona. It is very peaceful here, and for the most part, you’re a man of few words.”
“Wasn’t always. Bran and I used to carry on well into the night, but it didn’t matter because there’s no one around here for miles. No one to file a noise complaint. It was the only time our mother didn’t have to tell us to keep it down.” I close in on a smile at the memory.
“Where’s your brother now? Will he be visiting too?” Everly asks.
My mind shudders like windows rattling in a storm. That’s a question I can’t answer.
But someone knocks on the door. I am well aware that when I open it, my life will change forever.
I try to take a deep breath and it sticks. I instantly regret not telling Everly my whole story. Clouds roll in across what so briefly felt like a blue-sky day.
“Ready to play house?” I mean for it to sound lighthearted, but my tone is more in the vein of a dangerous gentleman.
“Is that the neighbor? Do you want me to pretend we’re actually a happily married couple?” There she goes with that easy laugh.
“Something like that.”
Elsie, laden with bags, nearly tips over as the blond little kid that I still can’t believe is a real boy rushes toward me.
“Pappa!” he calls.
I quickly unburden Elsie, then crouch down and open my arms for a toddler tackle. He’s a bit sweaty and sticky after the long trip, but I love him all the more for it.
“How’s my favorite little man doing?”
He answers in Norwegian, telling me he’s hungry and then wiggles out of my arms.
“Me too.” I scoop him up and then greet Elsie with a half-hug.
Also, in Norwegian, she asks how I’m doing.
“You know I have the vocabulary of a three-year-old, so if you two keep this up, soon I won’t understand you.”
She laughs and goes about organizing the bags, telling me what’s where, which I only half hear because Everly stands at the foot of the stairs, eyes bulging.
“Everly, meet Sonny.” He waves at her and drives his little toy car across my shoulder.
“You’re a father?”
I grunt.
“A single father?” Eyebrows raised, she glances at Elsie.
“Yes, a single father. Forgive me, Everly, meet Elsie.”
“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you,” Elsie says in accented English.
