Chapter 8 #2
I stared at the little sliver of his face showing in the mirror, only now realizing that I didn’t know this man at all.
Part of me was shocked he was so organized, and the other half didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he’d made so many choices without consulting me.
“What kind of car?” I asked, like that made a lick of difference in this completely outrageous situation.
“The same as mine. It has the highest safety ratings of any SUV on the road and an all-wheel drive package fit for the Colorado winters. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just, I need you healthy and safe.” He cleared his throat. “For Leena.”
I shook my head, feeling like he’d put me in checkmate before I’d even put my pawns on the board.
But, damn him, I needed both health insurance, a passport, and a car.
And damn my stupid heart for beating faster, knowing how much thought he’d put into this.
Sure, maybe I’d jumped into this marriage thinking of it as another caretaker position, but it was becoming increasingly clear that Mikko didn’t see it that way.
Didn’t see me that way.
“Okay,” I said, not sure how to sort out the emotions hitting me like a tidal wave. “No more making decisions about my life without talking to me first. I want to be in charge. I need to.”
“That’s not—”
I held up a hand. “No, Mikko. I get that what you did was thoughtful, even if it was a little stupid. But I cannot put myself in a place ever again where I feel trapped because I owe someone something I can never repay.”
Get in the truck, Shannon.
The words rang in my head the way they so often did, the image of Mikko standing at the bottom of the steps, waiting to take me away from the only home I’d ever known. If I thought about it hard enough, I could still hear my father’s voice shouting, too.
Get in the truck.
The car slowed, and I looked up to see Mikko taking the next exit. When we came to a stop, he got out, then came to the back door and opened it again.
Knowing how this would go, I turned toward him before he could manhandle me, staring up into his eyes. Shit, he was tall.
“I’m sorry,” he said, hands resting on the roof above me and making his arms flex, the thin fabric of his button-down stretching across broad muscles. “You’re right.”
Whatever fight I had left in me dwindled out, surprised by his reaction. “Of course, I am.”
“You can leave, I swear it. The car is paid off and in your name, so no matter what happens, it’s yours.”
“What?” I recoiled, confused once more. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “You deserve it.”
The words hit me so hard, I forgot to breathe.
Because I deserved it?
I’d worked for everything I’d ever had. Picked up extra shifts. Learned to make do with less because less was all I’d ever known.
But deserved it?
That was completely different.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Then thank you, I guess.”
“Anything else? Or are you going to keep hiding in the backseat?”
His smile faded enough that all I could see were those blue eyes studying me. Close up, he smelled like cedar and clean laundry, and I was quickly realizing that being married to someone I was attracted to was a terrible idea.
This time it was my turn to avoid his gaze, hating that he called me out like this. With an indignant huff, I pushed him out of the way and circled the back of the car, pulling open the passenger’s door and climbing in.
The moment I settled, Mikko got back in the driver’s seat, staring over at me. But I crossed my arms, looking out the windshield instead.
No part of me was used to rational discussions, having grown up in a house that was more shouting than conversational.
We rode in silence as we made our way down the mountain until the Denver skyline appeared in front of us. I about jumped out of my skin when Mikko’s big hand touched my thigh. Immediately, he lifted it back up, holding it in the air.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I shook my head, trying to calm my racing heart. “You’re fine.”
“Touching,” Mikko said. “What is and isn’t allowed? Where are your boundaries?”
Every time I thought I had this man figured out, he proved to me he was anything but simple. In fact, I think there were far more thoughts rattling around in that big brain of his than I ever realized. “That’s awfully progressive of you.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll never ask you to lie for me. No part of our story needs to be a lie, I mean. I’m already private—no one will be surprised if I leave out details of a story, so follow my lead. We met last winter through Beckett. Now we’re married.”
“That’s it?”
Mikko looked over at me, then back at the road. “That’s it.”
“And touching?”
“That’s your call,” Mikko said. “In Finland, everyone cares more about personal space than displays of affection. For my parents, if I hold your hand, that’s enough to signal that this is serious.”
I scrunched my nose, finding that hard to believe. “Really?”
“Yes. My parents have never met a woman in my life before.”
My body turned toward him without me even realizing I’d done it. “Ever?”
“My mom is in a wheelchair. Both of my parents were Olympic athletes—that’s how they met—but my mom was in a ski accident when I was a child.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He waved me off. “She’s the most capable person I’ve ever met. Don’t feel bad for her.”
“What about your dad?”
Mikko’s jaw tensed, the first time I’d seen him do that today. Considering the day we’d had, I took note.
“Not good?”
“He’s the Finnish national hockey coach.”
“Ah,” I said, understanding dawning on me. “So, let me guess. He’s hard on you? Never quite enough for dear old Dad?”
He looked at me, those bright blue eyes shining with emotions he didn’t need to say out loud.
“Hey.” I shrugged. “You don’t need to explain Daddy issues to me.”
“How is your father?”
“No clue,” I said. “Your little spat with him last winter gave me the courage to go no-contact, something I should have done long ago.”
“And your mother?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
The conversation dropped back into silence, but it wasn’t as awkward as I would have assumed. Neither of us had anything to say, so we just… didn’t.
I liked that.
Soon enough, Mikko took an exit close to downtown, headed toward high-rise condos. Leena stirred in the backseat, sensing the change in speed, and I looked behind me to check on her.
“Will this nap interfere with her bedtime?” I asked, realizing I knew next to nothing about their daily lives. “What do you want from me tonight?”
“When I’m home, she’s my responsibility,” Mikko said as he took a left turn into a parking garage. “I’m her father, and I want the chance to be that.”
That took me by surprise, but it shouldn’t have. Every single moment I’d observed Mikko and Leena together he was nothing but attentive to her, so maybe I should have even expected it.
“Okay.”
He pulled into a parking spot near the elevator, then cut the engine. “Bedtime is a struggle. I tried to adjust her to my own schedule, hoping to get more time with her each day, so she wakes up late and stays up late. Maybe that’s selfish.”
I shook my head. “I think you’re doing your best to adapt to a life that fits both of you. If that’s what works, then it works. No guilt trip here.”
Mikko’s eyes searched my face the way he so often did, as if he was trying to decide if I meant what I said.
“No lying, remember?” I said, one brow arched.
He got out of the car and circled it.
I assumed he was headed for Leena, so the moment my door opened, I sat there slack-jawed and surprised by the simple gesture. He held out one big hand, the golden ring catching the overhead light, reminding me how crazy this situation was.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, placing my hand in his and climbed out of the car.
“Ready?” he asked.
I was too busy trying to calm myself down, so I gave up on words and nodded instead.
He dropped my hand, then got Leena out of the car and paused, waiting for me. Again, his hand came out, and I put mine is his. Except this time, his fingers threaded through mine so naturally it took me a second to realize I hadn’t hesitated.
We’d agreed this marriage was practical. Temporary.
Stability for Leena.
A free roof over my head.
Nothing more.
So why did holding my husband’s hand feel so alarmingly right?