Page 153 of Top Shelf

The admission sits strangely in my chest now that it is outside of me.

“So it was easier to decide you didn’t want it?”

“Yes.”

“That’s annoyingly human of you, Karlsson.”

I smile down at her softly, but my attention returns to the song moving through the garden.

“When I hear this, I think of them. And Solvik. And being small enough that Mamma would make me dance with her while Pappa laughed at us.”

Heidi sighs, leaning into my side. “So it’s home.”

“Yes.”

Heidi’s hand slips into mine, and I look down at her.

Min älskling.

I want to tell her. But because I am still a coward and in a garden full of witnesses, I tug her by the hand. “Dance with me.”

Her brows lift. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“Yes. But this is for wife reasons.”

Her smile blooms, and I take her onto the lawn. I am not a good dancer. This is obvious immediately. Heidi discovers it within three steps and does not even try to hide her delight.

“Oh my god,” she laughs. “You’re so bad at this.”

“I am excellent at many other things.” She laughs, and I pull her closer before she can look at my feet again. “Stop watching.”

“I’m worried for my toes.”

“I have control.”

“You have NHL-level confidence and no rhythm.”

“I have you.”

I slide a hand to the small of her back, careful because my family is watching, careless because I no longer know how to hold her without meaning it. She rests her hand against my shoulder, and for a few beats, we move badly and together beneath a sky that refuses to get dark.

“You said something earlier,” she says quietly. “At the arch.”

“I said many things.”

“In Swedish.”

“Yes.”

“A new thing.”

My heart beats heavily.

“Not min fru, the other one,” she says, eyes moving between mine. “Min älskling?”

The words in her mouth nearly ruin me.

“What does it mean?”