Page 149 of Top Shelf

“You look beautiful,” I manage.

Her smile shifts. “That wasn’t my question.”

“Yes.”

“Viktor.”

I open my palm to reveal Ebba’s ring, and her gaze drops to it.

“What’s that?”

“A ring.”

“I can see that.” Her eyes lift back to mine. “For today?”

“Yes. For appearances.” I hate myself immediately.

Through the door, which I thought was mostly closed, Freja’s voice comes from the hallway. “No one believes that.”

I close my eyes as Heidi slowly turns toward the door. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to hear my brother insult everyone’s intelligence.” Freja pushes the door open with her hip and leans there, already dressed in green, with flowers braided into her hair and satisfaction all over her face. “For appearances—very good. Very convincing. Shall I call Mamma so she can also pretend?”

“I was explaining,” I say.

“You were failing.”

Heidi presses her lips together, but her eyes have gone shiny at the edges as she turns back to me. “Is it a family ring?”

I nod and lift it up toward her, the oval diamond and blue stones catching the light.

“Wow,” Heidi breathes, her fingers slowly reaching out.

“It was Ebba’s,” I say. “She wanted you to wear it for the blessing—if you would like to.”

Freja’s expression softens for a rare second before she ruins it by pointing at me. “He looks terrified because he is trying to make this sound practical.”

“It is practical,” I say.

“It is Ebba’s ring,” Freja replies. “Nothing about it is practical.”

Heidi’s fingers stop before touching it. “Viktor…”

“You do not have to wear it if you don—”

“I know.” She looks at me, and the softness in her face is more difficult to survive than fear. “But I would like to.”

I nod, and reach out my free hand to her. She places hers in mine, fingers steady only because she is trying very hard to make them that way. Then I slide the ring onto her finger where the Denver Diamond has been for weeks.

Freja makes a small sound from the doorway and disappears before I can tell her to leave, and Heidi looks down at the ring, brushing the stones with her fingertip.

“This feels…” She swallows, looking up at me. “Big.”

“It is for appearances,” I say again, because I’m a coward and terrified, and what if she doesn’t want this like I do?

Her eyes crinkle lightly at the edges in a smile, but her eyelashes flutter for a moment as she nods. “Yes. Of course. For appearances.”

Outside, Solvik has dressed itself for Midsommar. The long table has been moved onto the lawn near the terrace, covered in white cloth and crowded with flowers and candles, dishes and bottles, baskets of bread, and cake beneath linen. Birch branches frame the old arch Pappa built years ago for Freja and Johan. The lake twinkles beyond the trees, and the children run through the grass with crowns on their heads. Hugo’s is already sliding over his eyes.