I narrowed my eyes. “Me? Don’t be silly.”
“I can’t help you either,” Freya added. “This is for you, Dad.”
His affable smile slipped for a beat, but he recovered quicklyand allowed himself to be led to the pile of pastel beribboned presents.
I gently rested a hand on Freya’s belly and spoke in Swedish. “How do you feel?”
“Good. But tired. This is a lot of people.”
“Come. I’ll find a quiet place for you to sit and?—”
“No, no.” Freya hooked her arm through mine. “I want to watch for a bit. I’ve been living with this little person for months, and I want to picture the baby in all the little outfits, tiny socks, and itty-bitty hats. You’ll send me photos, right?” Freya didn’t wait for a reply. “I think I’ve done a good thing. I know you didn’t want anything to do with this, but helping Dex has helped us, too. I’m proud of us, Viggo.”
I narrowed my eyes but ignored the comment. “Hmm. When do you go to Sweden?”
“December twenty-fourth. Three weeks should be enough time to heal, and it’s not like I’ll be doing anything.” She rubbed her baby bump and chuckled. “It might not look like it, but I’ve been denying myself for too long. I plan to lie on a settee and eatpepparkakorand all the sweet somethings I want. Don’t worry…I’ll bring you treats from home, too.”
“No need for that. I decided to join you.”
Freya froze mid “ooh” at the mini Nikes Dex unwrapped and pivoted to me with her brow knit. “Viggo.”
“What?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t leave…not now.”
I shrugged, unable to put words and feelings together. “Not forever. Just a short trip. A reset. I bought the ticket.”
“You’re needed here, though. You have to stay. You’re?—”
“Shh. No more.”
“What about Dex?” she whispered. “You could be this baby’s father. You could help him and?—”
“And what? Don’t weave fantasies, Freya,” I scolded sharply. “That’s not how this works.”
“But you care about Dex.”
“Yes. Enough to know when to let go.”
Freya bit her bottom lip and sighed. She probably had a few things to add, but someone pulled her into a conversation and for now, I was off the hook.
Later, I helped Dex load the presents into both of our SUVs, then took Freya to my house. She was staying with me for the weekend. But she was tired after the festivities, and I didn’t want to leave baby things in my trunk. That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it. I drove back to Dex’s house and unloaded the new infant car seat, a stroller, something called a Diaper Genie, and a few million bags of clothes into his garage.
Dex chatted all the while—the clothes were so tiny, Freya was beautiful, the baby was moving so much you could practically see fingers and toes. An exaggeration, of course, but he was excited and I loved the sound of his voice. I kissed him when he paused for air and suggested going inside.
“How about going for a walk?”
I arched my brows. “In the dark?”
“Yeah, let’s go to the lake.”
“Put a hat on. It’s cold.”
Dex pulled one from his coat pocket and motioned for me to follow him to the public pathway leading to Lake Norman. It was well lit and wide enough for two grown men to walk side by side. We kicked through the debris of fallen leaves and glanced up at the stars. I pointed out Venus.
He tilted his chin, and asked, “What are your parents like?”
I frowned. “Why?”
