I left the lights on and stumbled up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. I should have gone straight to bed, but I hesitated at the nursery, resting my forehead on the door before pushing it open.
It was as we’d left it a few weeks ago. The crib and the rocking chair were the perfect new additions. As soon as the bedding was washed, we’d be ready.
Correction: I’d be ready.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and ran a lazy finger on the crib railing, the dresser, and the bookshelves. I studied the collection of baby books—some were sturdy board books, and otherswere favorites of mine as a kid,The Giving Tree,If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,Green Eggs and Ham, and so many more.
I’d dreamed of reading to my kids, one book after the other. I wanted to do everything my parents hadn’t…as if that might patch one of the many holes inside me. Maybe it would work. Or maybe it was unfair to think a child could heal broken pieces. Chances were high that I’d end up creating my own brand of dysfunction.
Wasn’t that what humans excelled at? Fucking up and passing on the trauma?
I sat gingerly in the rocking chair Viggo had made, my teeth chattering. I splayed my palms along the armrest and imagined him shaping the wood and sanding it precisely…with intention.
Somehow, I knew he’d made the crib for Annika—something to honor her connection to Freya. A penance, a token of mourning, an expression of love through grief.
At least that was how it had started.
Now…it was something more. There was love in the dresser, the bookshelf, the rocker, in the countless hours spent in his workshop, in the doctors’ office, on the road between Wood Hollow and Burlington. It was for us. For me, for a child he didn’t know but would accept as his own if I were brave enough to ask. If I were brave enough to try.
Jag älskar dig.I repeated the words over and over in my head so I could look up the translation later, but I didn’t need to. I knew what they meant.
The realization rocked me to the core. He’d told me what he wanted. He’d just said it in another language. My eyes welled and tears ran down my face unchecked.
So this was love.
It was simple and yet, so complex. Two people with a fuckton of baggage, comparing notes and finding puzzle pieces that shouldn’t fit and somehow did. There was magic here. I could feel it. But I was afraid that once again, the timing was all wrong. And it fucking broke my heart.
CHAPTER 34
DEXTER
Knock knock
I checked the peephole, frowning as I unlocked the door. “What are you doing here? It’s so early.”
Reg looked every bit the imposing cop in his police uniform with his shiny badge and holster. If I didn’t know better, I’d worry I was about to get arrested for something.
“I’m doing a wellness check. And save your smartass comments about taxpayer dollars. Where were you last night?” He brushed past me into the foyer, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t think so. A patrol car saw your vehicle on Belvedere at two a.m. and according to Janey, you didn’t show up to open the store this morning, but you called her at six a.m., left instructions regarding today’s special, and said you’d be in a nine o’clock. It’s now ten fifteen.”
“It is?” I scratched my nape and padded into the kitchen.
“Janey’s worried. You’re not answering your cell. Also, she says Viggo didn’t come in for his usual seven a.m. fritter, and according to the officer on duty last night, there was no passenger in your SUV.”
“Oh, Jesus. Do you think there’s a dead body in my trunk?”
“No, but I think there might be a story, and since you’re not answering anyone’s calls—even the chief of police’s—I’m here to make sureyou’renot dead.”
“As you can see, I’m alive and well. Want some coffee?”
Reg inclined his head. “Sure. Everything okay with the baby?”
“Yeah, but we had a scare last night.” I gave him a brief recap and assured my friend all was well.
Unfortunately, Reg had been trained to pay attention to details.
