Epilogue
“Wherever you are is my home—my only home.”— Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
Two years later
Viggo
Six-year-olds were wacky. Literally.
They ran around like wild monkeys, pausing to roll on the grass or do cartwheels. They passed the ball in the wrong direction and purposely didn’t pull their friend’s flags. I was the first to admit that I still didn’t know much about coaching, but basic flag football rules couldn’t be ignored.
“If you pull Derek’s flag, he’ll have one less flag, which means you have a better chance to win, yes?” I explained to Caleb, a skinny kid with knobby knees and dark bangs that hung over his eyes.
“But he’ll be sad. Our moms are taking us out for pizza and ice cream after practice today. He won’t be hungry.”
“If someone else takes his flags, will he feel better?” I asked, legitimately confused by first grade logic.
“Yep, I think so.”
There was a lesson here about sportsmanship or maybe leaving personal feelings out of the equation in the spirit of the game, but the kid’s earnest expression gave me pause.
“I’m going to tell you something in Swedish. Repeat after me: Ingen ko p? isen.”
“In-gen koo pen?”
“Close enough. Translation: There’s no cow on the ice.”
Caleb burst into laughter. “What does that mean?”
“It means don’t worry. It’s only a game. But if that doesn’t help and you feel too worried, maybe you can concentrate on taking someone else’s flag for now,” I suggested.
“Like Tommy’s?”
“Sure, but…Tommy’s very quick.”
“I’m quicker!” Caleb boasted. “I’ll show you!”
He raced off with renewed vigor, pleased that the alternate solution wouldn’t ruin his pizza.
I scanned the field of minions practicing karate moves, tying their flags into bows, or just chattering away. There wasn’t a serious athlete in the bunch, but they seemed to be having a good time, and according to my husband, that was what mattered.
I chuckled softly as I jogged to rejoin the group, then stopped in my tracks at the sound of a tiny voice calling my name.
“Papa, Papa, Papa!”
Maybe I should have been used to the swell of pride and the sensation that my heart had grown too big for my chest. I wasn’t. Not even close.
I grinned at my handsome man holding our toddler’s hand. Dexter winked as I dropped to one knee and held my arms open wide. He let go and she ran, blond curls tumbling, her little legs hopping over the grass as she launched herself at my chest and clung like a monkey. My monkey.
I stood and held her in the air before tickling her belly. “Anni, Anni, Anni. Where have you been, my beautiful Annika?”
She squealed gleefully, pushing her hair from her eyes. “Donuts!”
“What kind of donuts? The yummy kind?”
Dex joined us, leaning in to kiss me as he wrapped an arm around our daughter. “The kind that required a change of clothes. It was a big mess. Right, kiddo?”
Anni giggled. “I clean mess.”
Dex made a funny face. “That’s what we call an alternate version of the story.”
Anni just smiled, innocent and mischievous at the same time. She had no idea what her father meant, and she had other things on her mind. She wiggled in my arms and pointed at the dandelions poking through the grass. “Flowers, Papa.”
I set her down and drew Dex to my side, kissing his temple as we watched Anni toddle through the dandelions, hollowing her pink cheeks to blow the fluffy bits and make wishes with her hazel eyes squeezed shut.
Anni was a beautiful child, but that was no surprise. She had Freya’s Scandinavian coloring and Dexter’s eyes and mouth…and his sweet nature.
Annika Margaret was born December fifth, a day past her due date. She made up for that twenty-four-hour delay by racing through life, curious and carefree. She’d been an easy infant, an easy baby. She’d slept and eaten well and had never been overly cranky.
Teething had been the hardest phase so far.
Dex and I had taken turns walking her in the middle of the night, singing and soothing her.
I remembered feeling like a zombie in those days.
But they’d passed quickly. Soon enough, she’d moved on to regular foods, most of which had ended up in her hair, ears, and nose. And yes, it was fucking adorable.
Things to know about Anni:
She loved mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, applesauce, and of course, donuts.
She was a regular at Dexter’s Donuts—like a mini celebrity, strapped into a BabyBjorn while her dad greeted costumers.
Now that Anni’d entered the terrible twos—which honestly, weren’t so bad—she liked her freedom.
Running about the shop was more fun than being confined to a backpack.
Anni also liked giraffes, and no one knew why.
There had to be a giraffe in a book we’d read to her, but neither Dex nor I could figure out which one.
She also loved cats and dogs…especially Tate, Marly, and Max.
Like many precocious toddlers, Anni was friendly and chatty, though most of her words were a little difficult to understand.
She mashed Swedish and English together and well…
that just meant she was a genius in the making.
Most of all, Anni loved her dads. She was the center of our world, physical proof of our beginning. And yet, Dex and I were our own entity.
We recognized early on that it was important to make time for ourselves, so there was room for us to grow as a couple.
I’d like to think we were successful at that.
Maybe it seemed strange, but Dexter was as sexy to me with spit-up on his shirt as he was naked and under me in bed. Every day, the feeling grew…and grew.
On Annika’s first birthday, Dex and I were married at the courthouse in Pinecrest. Freya and Reg were our witnesses…and Anni.
That was the day she officially became Annika Gustafsson. Dex’s idea. He liked the idea of us all sharing the same name. We were now the Gustafsson family. There’d been a huge party at the park to celebrate the following spring.
And a year later, we had more to celebrate, Freya was pregnant with our second child, a boy. We decided to find out what we were having this time. Dex had been a little irked to learn that Freya and I had known Anni was a girl from her first ultrasound.
“It was a guess!” I’d assured him. Though to be fair, the nurse had basically shown us where to look.
This time, we were involved in every aspect of our son’s life…from the start. His name would be a surprise, but we had six months to think about it and help Anni get used to the idea of being a big sister.
Freya was a successful artist based in Burlington where she lived with her partner, Alice.
She had no plans to have children of her own.
She wanted to concentrate on her career.
And she was killing it, by the way. Selling pieces to galleries, and a line of pottery she sold exclusively to Mill Depot.
Big-name corporations had come calling, too. She was thrilled.
To Anni, she was Aunt Freya. To Dex and me, she was…well, words could never express our gratitude. She was family and always would be.
As for the rest of our family: Margaret adored her granddaughter. She spoiled her rotten, sending gifts so often that Dex finally had to tell her to knock it off. She also visited quite a bit. And though she might not want to admit it, Wood Hollow had grown on her.
We’d also visited Sweden a couple of times to introduce her to my family.
My mother had cried when she’d met the baby.
She’d claimed Anni looked like my sister, her namesake…
but not really. Our Annika was her own girl, not a replica, not a memory.
She was pure sunshine, and I couldn’t have been more in love with her.
And her father.
“Are you almost done here?” Dex asked.
I glanced over at the posse of six-year-olds dancing around Sarah, one of the high school coaches who volunteered for Wood Hollow’s flag football youth league. “Ja. They’ve reached the end of their collective attention span. And their parents are here. Give me five minutes.”
“Take your time. We’ll be picking dandelions.”
I certainly wouldn’t be taking my time. I was ready to go home.
I’d sold my place and officially moved into Dex’s lake house six weeks after Anni was born. I’d put a lot of work into it, and was sure I’d never want to leave, but…life happened. And my idea of home had changed.
I’d immediately built a workshop at the bottom of the hill near the lake, partially hidden in the trees.
The permits alone had been a pain in the butt, but it was a nice space.
And private. I’d started taking on a few commissions—mostly for personalized birdhouses. In a twist, it was a popular item.
My newest project was making Anni’s “big girl” bed. I hoped to have it ready by summer, before her little brother arrived. It would get done, but Dex and I were both very busy.
Dex had doubled his donut sales last year. Amazing. Tourists came from far and wide to taste his odd concoctions thanks to a popular influencer who’d made the town a mini destination based off a TikTok video. I mean, what the fuck? It was good for business, so no one complained too much.
To his mother’s delight, Dex had decided to open a shop in Michigan, too.
It was still in the planning stages and would require a lot of work, but ultimately, it was a smart financial move.
And personally, it was a sweet return to his hometown.
A way to reclaim what had once seemed lost. Obviously, someone else would run the store. We were too busy in Wood Hollow.
And yes…the publicity was good for flag football too.
So good that I’d gotten roped into coaching. Nah, I didn’t mind too much. The kids were goofy, and I figured dealing with a slightly older age group was nice practice for later.
I high-fived Caleb, Derek, and the rest of the team, and thanked Sarah, who waved at Anni and Dex.
“Your family is so freaking cute,” she gushed.
“I know.”
Sarah punched my biceps. “Mr. Humble. I’ll see you next week.”
“Good-bye, Coach.”
“Oh…hey, ask Dex if he has any plans to make those wasabi cheese donuts again. Those were freaking fantastic!”
I curled my lips in a universal “ew” face my daughter had perfected and shook my head. “I will not do that. Later.”
“Spoilsport!”
I rolled my eyes and hiked my bag over my shoulder before turning to Dex, who was crouched next to Anni in the grass.
Dex stood, wiping his palms on his jeans. “What was that all about?”
“Your wasabi donuts. I’m not condoning those.”
He threw his head back, guffawed, and yelled something to Sarah about extra cheese. On a donut. Disgusting. “C’mon, V. They were good! Everyone says so.”
“First of all, no one wants a green donut and second, cheese doesn’t belong anywhere near a donut.” I kneeled beside Anni. “What do you think, sotnos?”
Anni cocked her tiny chin thoughtfully and held a small bunch of dandelions to my nose. “Smell.”
“Very nice. Are you ready to go home and—”
Anni gasped and dropped her flowers to point to the monarch butterfly hovering near her head. “Look, Papa, look!”
I smiled, squeezing the hand Dex set on my shoulder. Was my sister haunting me as promised? I hoped so. “I love butterflies.”
“Me too!” She chased after it, her pudgy hands raised in the air while Dex and I watched.
I wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him. “I love you.”
Dex beamed. “I love you too. Jag ?lskar dig.”
“You’re getting very good at that. I can barely hear an accent.”
“Liar.” He nudged my hip playfully. “C’mon. Let’s get the munchkin and go home.”
I scooped up our daughter and reached for Dexter’s hand.
I’d never been one to dream of “what-ifs” or wish for the stars, yet somehow, I’d ended up here…with the love of my life, a beautiful family, good friends, and a house that felt like home.
These were sweet somethings and, in my humble opinion, the perfect foundation for our happy ever after.
Thank you for reading Dexter and Viggo’s story!