12. Viggo
VIGGO
Freya called later in the day to give me a health update. She was still feeling queasy; some days were better than others. Her good news was that she had a date set for her ten-week appointment.
“This is when we’ll get to hear the heartbeat. It’s Friday. Look at your schedule, and let me know if that works. I can change the day or time, but I wanted to get on the doctor’s calendar,” she said.
I adjusted my earbuds and stared out my kitchen window. “Frey…I shouldn’t go with you.”
“Why not? I don’t think Dex would mind. It’s not unusual for friends or family to support a surrogate at doctor appointments. He told me at the beginning that wouldn’t be a problem for him. And you’re my best friend and family, so…I want you there.”
“Freya…”
“Just say yes. Please.”
I’d skipped a couple of days’ worth of fritters after Dexter started hiding in the kitchen at seven a.m. I could take a hint. In fact, I hoped a small break would put an end to the trace of infatuation I felt for him. It was embarrassing, but the truth was…it was impossible not to like the man.
Dexter was friendly, upbeat, and good-natured.
He was a genuinely nice person who cared about his adopted community, and it was easy to tell that he took impending parenthood seriously.
He’d gone out of his way to ensure that Freya was comfortable and that she had whatever she needed.
If she requested my presence at her next doctor appointment, I knew he’d be okay with it.
But I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront the realities of Freya’s pregnancy and the memories it stirred. It was heavy. Not the type of baggage anyone wanted to unpack with a handsome man they wanted to tear apart and put back together again.
However, I knew I’d go. No question.
The line was relatively short at Dexter’s Donuts the following morning. I nodded at Janey and gave her a thumbs-up when she pointed at the coffee machine.
“Hiya, hot stuff. I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” Janey set the to-go cup on the counter. “Feel like trying the special of the day? It’s a sour cream donut.”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, c’mon, Big V. You’ll love it.”
I furrowed my brow. “Are you serving it on a baked potato with butter and chives too?”
Janey wrinkled her nose. “Uh…no.”
“Good. I’ll stick with the fritter, please.”
“Coming right up!”
I tapped my card and stepped aside to wait for the fritter.
Dexter delivered it a moment later. “Hey, look who’s here.”
I wasn’t prepared for him. Visions of Dexter in my bed and sucking my cock rendered me speechless.
I cleared my throat and licked my lips. “Good morning, Dexter.”
His grin lit his face like a spotlight on a dark stage. “Do you have a second?”
“Sure, but—”
“Come with me.”
Dexter grabbed my fritter bag and motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen. A large man and a petite woman wearing matching white aprons were heads down and elbows deep in a vat of frosting. They were in the midst of a heated discussion in Spanish and didn’t notice us trek to the back door.
A thin layer of fog painted the alleyway like a gossamer veil. It was quiet at this hour of the morning, and empty.
“This is very suspicious. What are we doing out here?”
“We’re having a private chat,” he replied.
“I hate chatting.”
“I know.”
“Did Freya tell you about her next doctor appointment?”
I nodded, peering into the pastry bag. “The heartbeat appointment.”
He beamed. “Finally. Anyway, she texted to see if it was okay if you joined us and I just wanted to personally let you know that it’s cool by me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We can drive up together.”
I closed the pastry bag and studied his earnest expression. “Okay.”
Dexter slugged my arm playfully, his smile threatening to split his face in half. “Great!”
That much joy was almost too much…too contagious, too sweet, too pleasant. It was safer to think about fucking him like an animal than it was to share a poignant milestone.
“Yeah. Well, I should go and—oomph.”
Dexter leaped forward and wrapped me in a bro hug that morphed into an octopus hold.
Logically, I knew that extreme emotion sometimes led to random celebratory displays. I wasn’t a hugger, though. It wasn’t second nature for me to initiate physical contact, and I was terrible at receiving it, too.
I stiffened immediately, and of course, Dexter stepped backward.
“Sorry. I’m just so…”
“Happy. I know.”
Dexter’s smile faded, and his cheeks turned pink. He averted his gaze and mumbled something about getting to work.
And I should have let him go.
I didn’t want him to be ashamed or embarrassed, though. He had every right to be happy, every right to express his joy. I almost felt sorry that I was the only one who knew what he was going through.
I grasped his elbow, intending to say something…nice. Something like, “I’m happy for you. It’s going to be okay.” Or even, “I’m driving to the appointment. Don’t argue.”
Nothing came out.
We were inches apart now, my heart pounded against my rib cage as my brain struggled to catch up. Logical thought flew out the window. I couldn’t concentrate with Dexter in my space. He was so beautiful, and he smelled so good. Like sugary frosting and spices and the forest.
I drifted closer…and closer till we were toe-to-toe. And then…oh, so slowly…he tilted his chin and pressed his lips to mine.
I dropped the pastry bag, clasped his face in my hands, and deepened the connection to something more urgent.
It wasn’t sexy. It was primal carnal energy—scorching hot.
Dexter parted his lips in invitation, and I didn’t hesitate.
I drove my tongue inside, gliding and twisting till he moaned and molded our chests, clutching at my leather jacket.
Christ, I wanted to grab his ass, pin him to the brick building, and run my hands up and down his gorgeous body. I wanted to hump and grind till he begged me to—
A door slammed nearby, ripping us back to reality.
We jumped apart.
“What was that?”
Dexter furrowed his brow. “Uh…sometimes Patty takes early appointments at the hair salon, but it’s misty out here and I don’t think she saw anything.”
Seconds ticked like a time bomb as we stared at each other, uncertain what to do next.
I looked away first, stooping to pick up the pastry bag I’d dropped. “You squashed my fritter.”
Dexter’s mouth twitched. “I’ll get you another one.”
“It’s okay. I like them flat, too.” I scrubbed my free hand over my beard and inclined my head. “Um…I’ll see you Friday.”
“Yep. I’ll text you.”
“Good-bye, Dexter.”
“Good-bye, Viggo.”