Chapter 2
* * *
Josephine stepped onto Avery and Julian’s porch with a covered dish in one hand and her purse tucked under her arm.
Warm light spilled through the front windows, and she could hear voices inside before she reached the door.
She paused long enough to adjust the lid, then knocked once and pushed the door open — Avery had already told her not to stand outside like company.
The smell of dinner reached her first, followed by Avery’s laugh from the kitchen and Julian’s lower voice somewhere nearby.
Avery appeared in the hallway with a dish towel over one shoulder and a smile that looked too pleased.
“You’re here,” she said, already reaching for the dish.
“Please tell me that’s the thing you said you were bringing, and not something you bought on the way because you forgot.
” She took the dish before Josephine could answer, then glanced past her toward the living room. “Everyone else is already here.”
Josephine closed the door with her hip and stepped out of her shoes.
“I did not forget. I am a grown woman who can contribute to dinner without supervision.” She set her purse on the entry table, then froze with her hand still on the strap.
Viktor Nygaard stood near Julian with a drink in one hand, already looking directly at her — settled into the room as if his presence needed no explanation.
Viktor straightened the moment he saw her.
He didn’t glance away or pretend he’d only noticed her because Avery spoke.
His attention fixed on her with the same controlled focus that had unsettled her since the first time he made his interest clear.
The room didn’t actually go quiet, but Josephine felt the shift anyway.
Julian noticed too — his eyes flicked from Viktor to Josephine before he lifted his glass to hide a small smile.
“Josephine.” Viktor set his drink down and crossed the room. His voice was calm, polite, entirely too sure of itself. “You look well.”
She lifted her chin and walked farther into the room because lingering by the door felt ridiculous.
“That’s an extremely formal greeting for someone standing in my sister’s living room.
” She kept her tone dry, fingers tightening around a purse strap she’d already let go of.
“Should I curtsy, or are we keeping dinner casual?”
Avery made a small sound from the hallway that Josephine pretended not to hear.
Julian looked openly amused now, which didn’t help.
Viktor stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly, and took his time answering.
“Casual is fine.” His gaze moved over her face, then returned to her eyes. “I wouldn’t object to the curtsy.”
Heat rose under her skin, and she refused to step back. “Of course you wouldn’t.” She moved past him toward the kitchen because standing there with everyone watching was already too much. “Avery — tell me where you want this help you clearly invited me here to provide.”
Avery glanced over her shoulder from the counter, smiling in a way that made Josephine want to rethink being related to her. “Salad goes on the table.” Then, lower, as Josephine came closer: “You’re flushed.”
“I walked from the car. Georgia has heat. I refuse to be cross-examined over normal body temperature.” Josephine kept her eyes on the counter, not the doorway where she could still feel Viktor standing.
Avery handed her the salad tongs and said nothing for a second — worse than the teasing would have been. “Sure,” she said, turning back to the oven. “Normal body temperature. That’s what we’re calling it.”
Josephine gave her a flat look and carried the salad into the dining room. The table was already set, and she noticed the seating arrangement immediately — Julian at one end, Avery near the kitchen, and two empty chairs together along one side. “Subtle,” she said, setting the bowl down.
Avery arranged the rolls near the center, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.” She glanced toward the living room as Julian and Viktor came in behind them. “Julian, open the wine before the food gets cold?”
Julian took the bottle from the sideboard and looked between the two empty chairs without bothering to hide his amusement. “Of course.” He pulled the cork, then handed the bottle to Viktor. “Want to pour?”
Viktor took it but didn’t move to the far side of the table. He pulled out the chair beside Josephine’s place and waited, one hand resting on its back — smooth, quiet, far too deliberate to be accidental. Josephine looked at the chair, then at him. “I can manage a chair.”
“I know.” He kept his hand where it was. “Sit anyway.”
Avery turned toward the kitchen too quickly.
Julian coughed once into his fist and busied himself with his water glass.
Josephine felt every ounce of attention in the room land on her, and refusing the chair suddenly seemed more revealing than taking it.
She sat with as much composure as she could manage.
Viktor pushed the chair in with careful restraint, his fingers brushing the back for one second before he took the seat beside her.
Dinner started with Avery on the house and Julian’s practical questions about whether the movers had damaged anything.
Josephine answered, but her focus kept snagging on Viktor — close enough that his sleeve nearly touched hers when he reached for his glass.
He didn’t crowd her in any obvious way. He simply occupied the space beside her, and that quiet authority made her too aware of the inches between their bodies.
“Did you find a place for the coffee maker yet?” Avery passed the serving dish. “Last time you lost it for months, and I still haven’t recovered.”
“I did not lose it. I stored it somewhere inconvenient to remember.” Josephine passed the dish to Viktor without looking at him. “There’s a difference.”
Viktor took it, his fingers brushing the bowl where hers had been. “Right side of the counter,” he said, serving himself. “Away from the sink.”
Josephine turned her head slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You said months ago coffee near the sink makes the counter feel cluttered.” He picked up his wineglass without drinking. “You were annoyed at some hotel suite for putting the machine too close to the basin.”
Avery’s fork stopped halfway to her plate.
Julian looked down, mouth curving. Josephine stared at Viktor, the memory surfacing now that he’d named it — a rushed morning before one of Avery’s events, an offhand complaint, Viktor standing nearby.
She hadn’t known he was listening that closely.
She’d certainly never expected him to remember it.
“That was a ridiculous thing to remember.” She cut into her food with more precision than it needed. “Most people let comments like that disappear.”
“I’m not most people.”
No one spoke for several seconds. Avery recovered first, eyes bright with interest she made no effort to hide. “Well. At least someone remembers where Josephine likes things. Might save us all some time.”
“Do not start,” Josephine warned.
“I didn’t start anything. I’m eating dinner in my own house. Very peacefully.”
Julian leaned back. “Peaceful is generous.” Mild, but Josephine heard the humor in it. “Still — food’s good.”
Conversation moved on, but Viktor’s attention didn’t, not really.
He answered when Julian spoke to him, passed dishes before anyone had to reach.
Yet he kept returning to Josephine with a consistency that pulled her shoulders tight.
He noticed when she avoided the carrots and shifted the bowl away without comment.
He noticed when her glass emptied and refilled it before she asked.
By dessert, Josephine felt hemmed in by the small courtesies — none of them improper, none giving her grounds to object without sounding unreasonable.
Viktor wasn’t loud, wasn’t careless, wasn’t openly possessive in any way she could call out at a dinner table.
He was simply there, watching without looking away, holding details she’d never meant to give him.
Avery set down dessert plates. “Coffee? Or has everyone had enough excitement for one dinner?”
“Coffee’s fine,” Josephine said, reaching for her water. She felt Viktor’s gaze drop to her hand on the glass and made herself set it down slowly. “As long as nobody’s memorized how I take it.”
Viktor leaned back, the corner of his mouth moving. “No sugar. A little cream — only if it’s too strong.”
Avery spun toward the kitchen so fast her dish towel slipped off her shoulder. Julian studied his plate in silence, which was worse than laughing. Josephine kept her face still, because reacting would only feed them. “That is also unnecessary information to keep in your head.”
“Not to me.”
She held his stare a second too long before looking down at her plate.
The dinner went on around her — Avery’s chatter, Julian’s quiet comments — but she felt the evening closing in with every calm word Viktor spoke.
He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t touched her beyond what courtesy allowed.
He’d only taken the seat beside her and made it impossible to pretend she wasn’t the only person in the room he cared to watch.
* * *
Viktor kept three car lengths between Josephine’s vehicle and his own as she drove home from Avery and Julian’s.
He didn’t speed, didn’t crowd her bumper, didn’t turn the short drive into anything that needed explaining.
Her taillights stayed steady ahead of him through the quiet Georgia streets.
She’d told him at dinner she was fine to drive herself home, and he’d let it go because arguing with her in front of everyone would have entertained Avery far too much.