Chapter 23 #2
“Heck of a way to treat a lady on her birthday, Walt.”
This time he turned to me, hands shaking on the armrest of his chair. “Well, why didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t know, why did you decide to be an asshole today?”
“I’m an asshole every day. That’s nothing new.”
That made me laugh.
We got on with our appointment after that, settling into the comfortable rhythm we’d found over the last few weeks.
He grumbled through every exercise like I’d chosen it solely to inconvenience him, but he still did every repetition I asked.
His voice carried farther than it had a month ago, and he only had to repeat himself twice the entire session.
Progress.
I packed my tablet into my bag and stood, slinging the strap over my shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”
Walt gave a single nod, already reaching for his newspaper again. “Happy birthday, kid. Hope he treats you right.”
This time when I smiled, it was genuine. “Thanks, Walt.”
I called Lori and talked to her the entire drive home with Beckett and Emmy chiming in from the background. There was a Mayhem Christmas party coming together the week the Yeti had off for the holidays, and I promised I’d talk to Mikko about us coming up for it.
The closer I got home, the more excited I was to spend the evening with Mikko and Leena. The elevator whooshed as it soared upward, taking me home to my people. I smiled when the doors opened, expecting Leena to come running. Instead, I saw Logan sprawled across the couch.
“There’s the birthday girl,” Logan said. Leena sat on top of him, watching a Disney movie and wearing a new princess costume.
She popped off the couch and raced toward me with a delighted shriek; a red, braided wig a little off-center on her head. I set my bag by the front table and put my arms out to catch her.
“Hi, pretty girl.” I kissed her cheek, then looked down at her outfit. “Are you Princess Anna tonight? You look beautiful.”
Leena pointed at her dress with a smile before wiggling out of my hold and back to the floor.
Logan sat up, and I got a full view of the matching Elsa costume he wore. Blonde wig, blue dress, even the gloves to match. “What about me? Am I beautiful?”
“You’re terrifying.” Mikko walked toward us. “That’s what you are.”
I looked over at him, only to have my jaw unhinge.
Usually Mikko wore sweats and a tee in the evenings, but tonight he was in a charcoal suit. This wasn’t his usual game-day jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. Not even the dark button-down he’d worn to our courthouse wedding.
An actual tailored suit.
The jacket fit his broad shoulders like it was made for him.
A crisp white shirt disappeared beneath the lapels, the top button left undone enough to keep him from looking stuffy.
His sleeves hugged forearms I’d become far too familiar with over the last few weeks, and for the first time since I’d met him, his hair looked intentionally styled instead of simply air-dried after a shower.
He was unfairly handsome, and the little smirk on his face told me he knew it.
“You, however.” Mikko walked across the room, putting a hand behind my neck to tilt my head up at him. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m in scrubs.” My voice sounded a little breathy even to me, but how could it not be when Mikko was looming over me, his hand on my neck so possessive and hot?
“Still beautiful.”
Beckett’s voice filtered into the room. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
I looked over at the couch to see Logan holding his phone up, Beckett’s face on the phone. “If they don’t kiss right now, I’m gonna throw up. This tension is so thick.”
“I vote yes!” Emmy said from behind Beckett, waving her hand.
“I vote Logan throws up,” I answered, looking back up at Mikko. “But not on the carpet.”
He chuckled, the sound so low my belly swooped. Even more so when his thumb trailed over the back of my head. “Did you have a good day?”
I smiled back at him, resting my hands on his chest. “I did.”
“Good.”
That was it. No grand declaration. No dramatic birthday speech. And yet, I’d never had anyone ask me such a simple question and be so invested in the answer.
He wasn’t asking to be polite, the same way he didn’t ask after he’d planned one of Leena’s and my outings.
He cared.
I pulled at the lapels of his jacket, trying to ground myself in the present. “What’s this for? Are you headed out?”
“We’re headed out.”
“Uncle Logan’s gonna hold the fort down, right little buddy?” Leena looked at Logan, then put her knuckles up against his.
I looked back at Mikko, one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Should I change?”
He shrugged. “If you want. We’re going to dinner and a bookstore.”
“A bookstore?” I asked.
“I thought you’d like that.”
I smiled despite myself, then my gaze drifted from his suit back to my scrubs.
“I’ll go change.”
“Take your time.”
Like a true brat, I did the opposite, rushing down the hall and into the shower.
It was long enough to wash the day away, but short enough that I didn’t let myself get too excited about whatever he had in store for us.
Each time he planned a day trip for Leena and me, it felt like a date he wasn’t even on…
so what would an actual date with him be like?
I stood in front of my closet, evaluating the row of black hanging in front of me. A bookstore didn’t exactly scream cocktail attire, and neither did dinner. But Mikko’s suit was the most I’d ever seen him dress up, so this wasn’t exactly a jeans date either.
I reached for a black dress I’d never worn before.
A structured, vest-inspired bodice that hugged my waist before giving way to a flowing skirt.
The deep V neckline and bare shoulders framed the gold jewelry I never left home without, while the black fabric made the roses curling over my pale skin stand out even more.
It wasn’t soft or sweet, but it was beautiful, and it felt like me.
Before I grabbed a bra and panties, my eyes landed on the box tucked into the back corner of the closet. Books were still stacked inside, but a splash of red showed through the clear plastic side. My hand hesitated.
It was ridiculous.
Completely unnecessary, even.
We were going to dinner and a bookstore, that was all.
I pulled the box open anyway, grabbing the matching red lace lingerie set inside.
“This is for me,” I muttered to my reflection once I had it on. Sometimes confidence came in strange forms, and it made me feel good. This wasn’t for Mikko, it was for me.
Satisfied with that completely rational explanation, I changed, slipped into the dress, fastened on my favorite hoop earrings, and gave myself one last look in the mirror.
“It’s a birthday dinner,” I reminded myself, hating the stupid butterflies that took flight in my belly. “Get a grip.”
Mikko drove my car to the restaurant, pulling under the awning of an old building in downtown Denver.
A red carpet leading into the restaurant was my first clue that this wasn’t just dinner.
Or, at the very least, not any kind of dinner I’d had before.
He handed the keys to a valet, then put his hand on my low back, leading me inside.
Warm light spilled across dark wood floors, polished smooth by decades of footsteps.
Exposed brick climbed toward impossibly high ceilings, interrupted by heavy timber beams and wrought-iron chandeliers that looked old enough to have been there since Denver was still a mining town.
Framed black-and-white photographs lined the walls, each one capturing a different piece of the city’s history, while shelves of wine disappeared floor to ceiling behind the bar.
Everything smelled like butter, fresh herbs, and warm bread. My stomach growled.
“Wow.”
Mikko looked down at me. “Good?”
I took another slow look around.
The hostess greeted Mikko by name before leading us through the dining room, making this feel even fancier.
Every table was draped in crisp white linen, tiny candles flickering between crystal glasses.
Conversations stayed low enough that silverware against porcelain became part of the music drifting softly through the room.
We stopped at a curved leather booth tucked into the back corner, half-hidden beneath an arched brick alcove.
It was secluded enough that the rest of the restaurant faded into the background without disappearing completely.
I slid onto the bench, smoothing my dress beneath me as Mikko took the seat beside me.
When the ma?tre d’ left us, my pulse fluttered.
There was no team lingering a few tables over, no Logan making inappropriate comments, not even Leena asleep in the next room.
For the first time since I’d met Mikko, it was just us.
Somehow, that realization was more nerve-racking than the restaurant itself.
Our waiter came over next, taking our drink orders and handing over menus. I didn’t order a Diet Coke, but I wanted to, settling for water instead. Mikko didn’t order alcohol either, and I tried to remember if I’d ever seen him drink before.
“It doesn’t bother me.” I pointed to the drink menu. “I can be around alcohol. I just don’t drink it myself.”
He put his own menu down, focusing on me. “I’m not avoiding alcohol because of you. But I also know what it’s taken from you, and that reminder doesn’t deserve a seat at our table.”
My hand stilled, water glass halfway to my mouth. I didn’t talk about my past often, but he listened whenever I offered pieces of it. Even more than listening , he remembered.
He remembered everything.
I took a sip before he could see whatever was written across my face, then picked up my menu, only now noticing it was written in Italian.
“Can you read this?”
“Enough.”
“Great. I was about to point at something and hope for the best.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Would you like me to order for you?”