He muted the television, shifting to face me, his brows knit with concern. “What did she do?”
I filled him in on my conversation with my mother—minus her judgment of my emotional state, of course.
“And you were dressed as Dracula the whole time?”
“I was.” I laid my head on his shoulder and yawned.
Viggo snort-laughed; then he kissed my temple and said something in Swedish.
“What does that mean?”
He opened and closed his mouth. “Nothing. Just…I’m glad you’re not going anywhere.”
I laced our fingers and squeezed. “This is home now.”
He was home.
Viggo frowned, and I instantly knew it was the wrong thing to say.
The sentiment was too big for who we were supposed to be. Putting those words out there was dangerous. One of us—me—might get ideas, and that wasn’t okay. We knew who we were to each other, and I wouldn’t dare ask for more. No matter how much I wanted to.
CHAPTER 30
VIGGO
Ibrought the crib to Dexter’s house and assembled it while he was at work. I made sure it was perfect. Each slat was evenly spaced, the mattress fit snugly, and I’d even built two drawers for storage underneath. I’d also made a rocking chair. He’d said he was going to buy one, but…mine was better.
I uncorked a bottle of Pinot Noir, poured two glasses, and waited.
Dex grinned as he sauntered into the kitchen, unzipping his jacket and toeing off his shoes. “God, it’s good to be home. The only better greeting would be you in an apron…and nothing else.”
I treated him to a deadpan glare, hating that I couldn’t hold the expression for long. “C’mon. Take a sip of your wine if you want, but leave the glass here. I have something for you to see.”
I moved ahead of him, but at the top of the landing, I motioned for Dex to go first.
He opened the door to the nursery and stopped in his tracks. “Viggo…holy fuck.”
I stepped around him, my arms crossed, a growly look on my face. I knew he’d like it, but I wanted to be sure.
“You should sit. Be sure it’s okay for you,” I said, aware that my accent was coming through loud and clear.
Dex studied the crib, his gaze taking in every detail before he zeroed back to the rocking chair beside it. “You made this?”
“I didn’t buy it in Pinecrest…or from IKEA.”
His laughter came out in a sob as he took in the room, probably imagining how it would feel to bring his son or daughter here for the first time.
I’d attached the star, moon, and unicorn mobile he’d purchased months ago to the crib and had taken the plastic cover off the mattress. There hadn’t been enough time to wash linens, but I figured Dex would want to do that himself. The dresser and changing table were in place with a stack of the smallest diapers I’d ever seen in my life at the ready. New books joined the few he’d already collected, as well as the animal figures I’d carved and painted.
I picked up the lion. “I used a lightweight wood and nontoxic paint. These are safe for your baby to play with when they’re older…or to gnaw on if they’re teething. And the chair is?—”
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Did you hide this? You must have. I was going to buy one, but this is…Viggo, it’s amazing.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m very good at woodworking.”
He smacked my arm and fell into the chair, rocking slowly, his eyes bright and shiny. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I ordered a cushion in a soft gray to match the bedding, too. If you want me to change anything, I can do that. But let me know soon, and I’ll take care of it before I go.”
