34. Dexter
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 sure you’re not 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.
“Don’t you and Thor usually drive together?”
“His name is Viggo and yes, but…he was at work and had to drive from Rutland.” I slid a cup of coffee toward him and cradled mine for warmth. It was still fucking freezing in my house. “I was going to stay with Freya last night, but I came home instead.”
“Hmm.”
We sipped coffee leisurely as if neither of us had a million other things we should have been doing midmorning on a weekday.
“Is Gretchen going to dance this afternoon?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah. I meant to tell you she wouldn’t be coming by for her donut lesson, but that was before the whole town got up in arms, ready to call a search party for your ass,” he snarked.
I rolled my eyes. “This town…”
Reg quirked a smile. “I warned you about small-town living when you first rolled into Wood Hollow, but you’ve been here a while now, so I don’t think you mind so much.”
“No, I don’t. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
Reg choked on his coffee. “Married? Whoa, Nelly. I dunno. I’m not seeing anyone and I don’t know if—”
“I meant…do you think it’s possible to have kids and raise them with someone who didn’t initially sign up for parenting?
And yeah…I know the answer is theoretically yes, but—” I shoved a hand through my hair, aware that it had to be standing on end, and barreled on.
“What about doing everything out of order? Is that bad for the child? Kids come first. That’s the rule. You said so yourself and—”
“Hang on, hang on.” Reg set his cup down and wrinkled his brow. “I know this isn’t about you and me, but I think I should clear the air and tell you that I just wasn’t ready to commit to a relationship or—”
“No, no, no. It’s not us. Yeah…I got hurt, and that sucked, but I’m more than fine. In fact, I’m glad we didn’t work out, ’cause I met someone who’s…”
“What?” he prodded.
“He’s pretty fucking special,” I croaked.
“And I’m so nervous about getting this all wrong.
Being a dad, being in a relationship. I’ve never done the first, and I’m terrible at the second.
I had the worst role models—an absent father, a controlling mother, and I’m still working through the aftershocks of a monster concussion.
Maybe my mom was right. Just because I haven’t had a seizure in over eight years doesn’t mean I’ll never have another one.
Should I be doing any of this? I feel like I’m destined to fail right out of the gate, and I’m fucking paralyzed with fear. ”
Reg’s lopsided smile was warm and indulgent. “Welcome to the club, Dex. No one knows what they’re doing.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m serious. We’re all winging it. There are more pitfalls and wrong turns ahead, but the good news is…
you’re in it together—you and your kids…
and your partner. You learn, you trust, and you have faith that you can build something better for the next generation.
Man, I wake up scared every day. I want to protect my kids from the world…
and maybe protect myself, but you gotta live, too. That’s what it’s all about, right?”
I nodded, pursing my lips in a valiant effort to keep my emotions in check. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“So to answer your question…yes, I think if you’ve got love and that extra secret sauce that makes a relationship work, you’re miles ahead of the crowd. Any kid would be lucky to grow up in your house. Your home. There’s a lot of love here. You can feel it. You just have to trust it.”
I grinned through a sheen of tears. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, get your ass to work so the damn town will quit worryin’ about you.”
“Yes, sir, Officer.” I saluted Reg, chuckling at his faux grumble.
I showered, shaved, dressed for work in my pink tee and jeans uniform, then checked in with Freya. All was well. The swelling had gone down, no headache, no pain in her belly, and Alice was there making her breakfast. I absently wondered if Alice and she were more than friends. I liked the idea.
My next stop was Dexter’s Donuts.
Janey gasped as I walked in the door and raced around the counter to fling herself at me. And punch my chest. “You asshole! Sorry, Mrs. Galbraith,” she mumbled to the older woman perusing the morning’s selections with her usual critical gaze.
“No need to apologize. We’ve been worried sick about you and the baby, Dexter,” Mrs. G admonished, peering over her glasses. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Freya is doing well and according to the doctor, the baby still has a couple of weeks in the oven,” I reported.
“Excellent. Now, I have questions about these lemon curd donuts.”
“I’ll be right with you, Mrs. G,” Janey said, turning to me and continuing, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I…” I gestured to the donut display. “I need to run an errand. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but…wish me luck.”
Janey beamed. “You don’t need luck. Bring fritters, though…just in case.”
Ten minutes later, I was on the move again, carrying a pink box up Main Street toward the mill. I stopped twice to assure concerned citizens the baby was fine or to give today’s special. Honestly, I didn’t mind the distractions. It was better than worrying I’d get this wrong.
“Dexter! You sly devil you, charming us with treats! Thank you!” Layla exclaimed, jumping from her desk outside Cooper’s office.
I shook my head. “Actually, these aren’t for the mill. It’s a special delivery. I hate to bug you, but…where is he?”
Her eyes lit mischievously. “Big V? He’s in the lumber yard. Let me show you—”
“I’ll find him. Thanks.”
The only way to the lumber yard was through the mill.
That meant weaving in between forklifts, heavy machinery, and groups of loggers in hard hats and full gear.
My uniform, box of donuts, and the lack of a hard hat drew attention.
Okay by me. For once, I didn’t mind if Wood Hollow put me on blast. In fact, I was sort of hoping they would.
I found Viggo standing akimbo in his ubiquitous plaid shirt in front of a tree trunk the size of a large boat. The bark had been stripped and though I knew nothing about logging, my best guess was that he was working out where to begin.
Same here.
I stepped outside, clearing my throat to get Viggo’s attention. But he seemed to sense my presence. He pulled his protective glasses off and set them on a piece of equipment.
“Are you okay? Freya? The baby?”
“Yes, everyone is fine.” I pushed the box into his hands.
“You don’t have to open it. I just needed currency to get in the door and donuts always work.
You don’t have to share those, though. It’s a lot of fritters.
Your favorite. I thought about adding the special, but it’s lemon meringue and I wasn’t sure you’d like the tartness.
You tend to go for sweet somethings and—I’m talking too much, huh? ”
Viggo tilted his head. “You do that sometimes.”
“Yeah, well…I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I was going to come by after work and apologize for last night. I could have handled it better, but I—”
“Jag ?lskar dig,” I blurted.
He went perfectly still. “What?”
“It means I love you, doesn’t it?”
Viggo opened his mouth. “I…yes.”
“I looked it up. I didn’t have to…I knew, but I wanted to be sure. Then I listened to a native speaker say it on repeat for a few hours so I’d get it right, because I really, really want to get this right.”
“What are you—”
“Jag ?lskar dig, Viggo. I love you.”
He set the donuts on the giant log and closed the distance, lifting my chin with his thumb. “Dex…”
“I do. And I know it’s bad timing and that I’m coming to you with more baggage than any sane person would want to take on, but I’m taking my shot here.
See…I wanted to create a family that felt a little warmer than mine.
I figured I could do it on my own, and if necessary, I will.
But the thing is…you feel like family, like home, like everything I’d ever hoped for but wasn’t sure I’d find.
Somehow, I found you, Viggo. Or you found me.
And I love you so much, and there’s no one I’d rather grow old with. Just you.”
Viggo cradled my nape and pressed his lips to my forehead, my nose, my mouth. “Jag ?lskar dig.”
I smiled. “Me too, but…maybe you should think about it. This is a lot. I’m a lot, and I’m about to have a baby and that’s a lot and—”
He shut me up with a quick, urgent kiss.
Viggo’s nose brushed mine as he stared into my eyes. “I can carry your heavy baggage. And mine. But…maybe we could leave the past behind and start over—just me and you…and the baby—and we can be something new.”
“A family.”
“Ja, a family,” he repeated.
“I want that. I really fucking want that.”
Viggo flashed an epic grin and crashed his mouth on mine.
I was vaguely aware of catcalls and applause in the background, but there was no one else in the world. Just me and my lumberjack—the kindest, coolest, best man I’d ever met.
I had the strangest sensation at that moment that I’d finally found what I’d been looking for—family, home, and that sweet something poets wrote about. This was love, and this was where it began.
With us.