31. Viggo
VIGGO
This was a first. I’d never been to a baby shower in my life. I’d thought they were small parties for expecting mothers, but this was a coed affair. Lots of men, women, and children…and even a couple of dogs.
I bent to pet Silas and Cooper’s Labs, Max and Marly, if only to escape the commotion for a moment.
“You look like you could use one of these.”
I straightened, eyeing our host and the thin flute of orange fizz in his hand suspiciously. “What is that?”
Silas chuckled good-naturedly. “A mimosa. I’m sure you’ve had dozens, but nothing quite like mine. Go on. Try it.”
I thanked him and took a sip. I wasn’t a fan of fizzy drinks, but since he and Cooper had so graciously opened their home, it was literally the least I could do.
“Not bad.”
“Right?” He smacked my shoulder and turned to study the crowd gathered around the pregnant woman holding court near the fireplace. “Freya looks amazing.”
She did. In fact, she looked radiant. Freya glowed with that incandescent energy I’d always associated with expectant mothers.
In the past month, her belly had swollen to near maximum capacity.
Random people fawned over her beauty and threw in their best guesses regarding the baby’s sex or told their own birth and delivery stories.
Freya took it all in, drinking in the experience with grace and gratitude.
Yes, the money had been a factor, but she’d also had deeply private reasons for becoming a surrogate, and it seemed as if something had healed inside her.
As if she’d finally learned how to live with grief rather than run from it and in doing so, she’d made room for a new version of herself—someone who was ready for the future.
I was proud of her. And maybe a little jealous.
“She does,” I agreed above the din of chatter, laughter, and the light strain of music drifting amongst the fifty or so guests mingling in Cooper and Silas’s great room.
A tent and heat lamps had been set up on the deck to accommodate the bar and the overflow of gifts that rivaled anything Santa would be hauling this time next month. The mood was joyful and bright in spite of the chill in the weather, and everyone was dressed in their Sunday best.
Silas sipped his mimosa. “This is the first weekend I’ve had off in months.”
“Ah, that’s right. You should be announcing a game.”
“I’m flying out tonight to cover Monday Night Football. The game is in Minnesota. It’s gonna be fucking freezing.”
“Lightweight,” I teased. “It’s only November. You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t mind the weather. It’s being away from Coop and the kids that sucks. Especially at this time of year. I don’t even know if I’ll be here for the Thanksgiving flag football tournament. At least we’ve got you on the team now.”
I was saved from responding by Marly, who dove for a plate of appetizers someone had left in her reach. Reg, Cooper, Troy, and Dex came to assist and brought a couple of beers with them.
“You can lose the fufu champagne if you want,” Troy said, angling his chin at my drink.
“Hey, I made those,” Silas huffed. “But yeah…beer me.”
Dex laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners and those dimples accenting his beautiful mouth. I tore my gaze away and took the bottle Reg handed me, clinging to the smallest distraction.
I wasn’t okay.
Don’t get me wrong. I was happy for my friends.
Freya was thriving, Dex was over the moon, and like everyone in Wood Hollow, I looked forward to meeting the newest arrival next month.
But whatever I was feeling had nothing to do with a baby and everything to do with the new dad-to-be.
I couldn’t stand next to Dex without wishing he were mine.
Snap out of it, Viggo.
Reg raised his beer bottle in a toast. “To sleepless nights, dirty diapers, teething, tantrums, and years’ worth of worry and joy. So much joy. To Dex.”
“To Dex!”
“We’re rooting for you, man,” Troy piped in.
Dex grinned. “Thanks, Troy. And you’ll babysit too?”
Troy widened his eyes and slowly crouched, pulling a comical disappearing act.
Our laughter caught the attention of the group surrounding Freya.
She joined our circle, hugging Dex before linking her fingers with mine.
There was lighthearted joking about Dexter wearing a baby papoose at practice and at the donut shop.
Speaking of the donut shop, Janey had a present for him to open now…
a little something which turned out to be a baby onesie with the shop’s cartoon dancing donut logo.
Everyone oohed and aahed, and someone decided it was a good idea to serve cake now so the rest of us would have something to do while Dex tackled the mountain of gifts at the hearth.
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.”
“That’s why you don’t want kids?”
“Maybe. I think…I think love is important. It makes a house feel safe when life gets hard.”
Dex covered my hand and laced our fingers. We sat in silence, holding hands, lost in our own thoughts.
“You’re not cold. In fact, you might be the warmest person I’ve ever met.”
“It’s all the fritters I eat,” I joked.
He punched my biceps playfully and rested his head on my shoulder. “Shut up and take a compliment.”
“Hmph. Thank you.”
“I never had a dad. Not a real one. Mine was a hero figure who turned out to be a dud. Lots of kids grow up with single parents, but my father floated in and out—like a ghost. I would have done anything to get him to stay. When I had my concussion—the bad one—the nurse kept saying, ‘It’s okay, honey. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.
’ I had no idea what she was talking about.
Apparently, I’d been chanting his name like a fucking prayer. ”
I squeezed Dex’s hand. “He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah. I was embarrassed for sure. Even more embarrassed that I kept checking the door, hoping he’d waltz in.
Never did. He didn’t come visit, didn’t come to my wedding, didn’t call after my divorce…
just gave up on me. Forgot about me. I should hate him for it, but I’ve learned not to give away rent-free space in my head.
What I want is to do better, be better. When you asked me months ago why I wanted this, I guess that’s it.
I want a different ending. A happier one. ”
“You’ll have one.”
“What about you?”
I frowned. “What about me?”
He sighed. “How will we do this? Us. Will you come visit every day? Every other day? Will we meet at Log Cabin for pancakes and laugh at the messy baby in the highchair? Or meet at the park and take turns pushing him or her on the swing?”
My throat went dry. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
“I just hope you know I want you in my life.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I kissed the top of his head and closed my eyes. God, I wanted that and so much more.
Too much. I wanted a fairy tale that didn’t exist. I wanted a world where no one was lost or forgotten, where children grew up in happy homes, and lovers lived happily ever after. It was a fantasy. A dream. I was too old for dreams.
It left me with a selfish, sick feeling that Dex’s gain was my loss. And that as happy as I was for him, I was sad for what could never be.