Page 145 of Top Shelf

This is harder. This is a second cup of coffee appearing beside my elbow. A niece pressing flowers into my palm for loyalty. Astrid asking whether I prefer salmon or herring, then remembering the answer without making me remind her. Viktor shifting closer whenever the Swedish gets too fast, translating only when I need him to and never making me feel stupid for needing it. None of them seem to be trying to convince me I belong here, they just behave as though I already do.

And Viktor has been doing that for longer than I’ve realized. Belonging somewhere, to something—to someone—is sneakier than I expected.

Freja gestures toward my crown. “It is looking much less tragic now.”

“I’m choosing to hear that as praise, Freja.”

“You should. I will save the real review for Swedish.”

I huff, shaking my head with amusement. “I’m fluent now.”

Across the table, Viktor’s mouth quirks, and because I’m tired and happy and currently overfilled with caffeine, I look him straight in the eye.

“Jag vill ha dig.”

The effect is magnificent. His entire body freezes, and his eyes snap to mine. A pulse jumps in his jaw, and the careful flower between his fingers bends slightly under the pressure. My smile blooms before I can stop it.

“Oh,” Freja says.

I turn my head slowly, and Freja is staring at us. Astrid has gone very still in the doorway, and Ebba chuckles under her breath. I stop smiling slowly, my face morphing into a frown as I look around at everyone.

“What?” I ask.

Viktor says nothing. He doesn’t even look up. Freja’s eyes widen with glee, and her mouth presses together like she’s trying to be kind but failing miserably. “Where did you learn that, Heidi?”

I glance at Viktor, whose face has become a granite monument.

“My husband.”

Astrid makes a sound that may be a cough, and Ebba sips her coffee with a hum. “It is a useful phrase.”

“Oh my god.” Heat rushes up my neck as I turn back to him. “Viktor!”

His eyes are wide. “You said you wanted to practice.”

“You told me it meant I would like some coffee!”

“No,” he says, shaking his head at each of the women around him. “I did not.”

My mouth drops open. “You dirty liar! You absolutely did! Quick, what is the flower that represents deceit, so we can add it to my husband’s crown?”

Freja finally loses the battle and laughs into her flowers. Astrid turns back into the kitchen, muttering in Swedish while Viktor close his eyes, and Ebba looks deeply pleased with the entire world.

“What does it actually mean?” I whisper.

Viktor leans forward, voice low enough that it drags over my skin. “I want you.”

I blink at him, then ease back. To be fair, it’s not the worst thing I was thinking while watching him use his hands at this table. And I do want him. I absolutely do. Which is unfortunate, because we’re on his family terrace surrounded by flowers, children, and several generations of excellent hearing.

I sniff, then look back down at my crown. “I’m returning to my masterpiece.”

“Good,” he says, but his voice is strained.

Vera reappears with more flowers. “Did you say bad words?”

“No,” Ebba answers before I can. “She said honest ones.”

Viktor’s eyes meet mine across the flowers, and for a moment there’s only the blue of the cornflowers, the warmth of the sun, and all the things I’m still not brave enough to say.