by Emily Childs
Holly glances once over her shoulder, offers a puppy-dog smile to Vi and Ari, but she definitely takes a moment to swoon at me and Bastien.
Okay.
I make a bold move and graduate from pinkies, to pinkies and ring fingers laced together before I grin and watch the game.
We can do this.
Chapter 15
Bastien
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Holly asks Laney as we drift with the crowds toward the front gates.
“I had a great time,” Laney says sincerely. “Thank you for letting me tagalong.”
“Nonsense. Significant others are always welcome, and it’s that much better that I already know you from the office. Besides, you and Bastien are adorable.” Holly winks at me. I’m glad it’s dim, so she doesn’t see the way my face heats.
“Don’t you think Piper?” She faces her niece who seems thoroughly more interested in chatting with a security guard.
“What?” Piper asks.
“They’re cute. Bastien and Laney, don’t you think?”
Piper shrugs. “Sure.” And then she’s back to her security guard.
“We need to have more of these things. Keeps the office more relaxed,” Holly says, not only to us, but Vi and Ari, Bryce, Adam, and Adam’s wife.
“Anytime you want me to come to a Vikings game, Ms. Everett, I’m there,” Bryce says.
I roll my eyes. If he’s ever invited again. He was louder, maybe drunker, than half the people in the upper stands. Not the best first impression.
Holly smiles politely, but doesn’t say anything. Everyone breaks off, and I feel the brush of skin against my arm. Goosebumps lift on my skin having Laney stand so close. It almost hurts knowing what she thinks of me. I should’ve corrected her, but what does it matter? We’re not planning to stay together, and how would I even start to explain what happened?
Do I even want to?
Not really. I barricaded the first two months of this year away like a faulty missile waiting to burst if touched. I haven’t talked about the ruination of my relationship, and I have no plans to dig into that mess anytime soon.
Even with her believing I’m scum, Laney took my hand. Somehow we’d fallen into a normalcy and kept fingers linked throughout the game. As though we always touch each other. Maybe she thinks I’m a dirtbag, but she’s okay touching me. If she’s good with that, then I don’t see a need to dredge up the past. What purpose would it serve if we’re succeeding? We look like a fledgling couple, and that’s all I can ask for.
We can still have a good time, though.
I nudge Laney with my elbow. “I should’ve asked earlier, but I promised to make a quick visit to Lindström on my way home. I can take you back, then backtrack, or—”
“You want me to come home with you?”
Those questions are what pull out the stammering. I never know what to say. If she doesn’t want to come, then I feel stupid asking. And if she does, but I don’t act like I’m into it, then she might take everything wrong.
“We used to do this dessert pass-along thing with the Jacobsons. Things that didn’t sell to clear up the last of the inventory before the start of the new week.”
“So you’re telling me there will be heaps of delicious baked goods?”
I grin. “Mountains. Of all kinds.”
Laney hesitates, but her eyes are bright. “Boss, I thought you’d never ask.”
“Really?”
“Unless you don’t want me to meet the rest of your family. I totally get it—”
“Brooks,” I say, resting my hands on her arms. This is new. “I’m okay with you around my family. Honestly, I should be warning you about them. They’re loud. Overbearing. Nosy. And they will quiz you on any connection you have to Scandinavia.”
“I’m Irish,” she says.
“Then,” I say with a heavy sigh. “You’re doomed.”
***
Laney smiles softly, watching the stores on Main float past. She’s said three times how much she loves small towns. The quaintness, the way people wave to everyone as they drive or walk by. I’m happy she’s at ease. My grip has slowly tightened the further we drive into town. By the time we pull up alongside my parents’ apartment building, I have the AC in the car on high. Everything feels hot and muggy.
“You okay?”
Clearly, I’m not skilled at hiding it.
“Fine,” I hurry to say. Last time I came home didn’t go well. An accidental encounter with people I’d rather not see, put me into a cloud of pity for a good week. I know the moping went on for a week because Laney, this girl who’s looking at my hometown like it popped off the front of Christmas card, told me to snap out of it every day.
I turn off the ignition. Across the street the Scandinavian Market is closed, but for a few lights in the back rooms. Jonas and Brita are here, so are Axel and Elle. I think the silver Honda is Nils Jacobson’s car. When he got remarried six years ago, he moved a couple streets over and Oscar’s parents moved in to help take care of the bakery and Philip. Staring at the painted windows of Lingonberries and arrays of flags, my shoulders relax. I even smile a bit.
I have missed coming home.
When I’m halfway out of the car, Laney catches my arm. Her palm is warm and sends a spark of electricity across my skin.
“Wait,” she says. Her eyes are wide behind her glasses, and her breaths come heavier. “Give me a second.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m terrified.”
I adjust in my seat, my body squared to her. “Terrified? Of my family? But you know them from all the wedding stuff. My mom calls your line more than mine.”
“I know, but this is . . . different.” She scrubs her palms over her thighs. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“Not laughing,” I tell her. “Curious.”
“Meeting dates’ families,” she says as she licks her lips, “boyfriends’ families, I don’t have . . . I don’t have a lot of good experiences with it.”
Interesting. Witty, confident Laney Brooks looks like she’d rather disappear into the seat of the car right now. “You’ve met a lot?”
She scoffs and stares at her hands. “A few. Mostly during high school and early college. Back then, I wasn’t exactly the sort of girl moms wanted their precious baby boys to bring home.”
“I doubt that.”
She leans back against the head rest and rolls her face toward me, a sly grin on her lips. “I was basically a pin cushion with piercings. You remember the nose ring—”
“Which never should’ve been taken it out.”
She chuckles and slugs my shoulder. “Bright green hair and a wild side. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly the pick of the litter. One guy’s parents locked me out after I went to use the bathroom. They tricked me by leading me into the garage.”
My eyes widen. “You’re kidding? No one is that nuts.”
She laughs. “Some are. The funny thing about that one is we were in college and he was more of a partier than me. Simply a good boy in front of his family.”
“Please tell me you didn’t go out again.”
“No, breaking out of a locked garage puts a damper on romance.”
“Well, their loss.”
“They weren’t the only ones, but I don’t blame anyone,” she admits. “I wasn’t on a good road. I didn’t make great choices. Lots of parties I shouldn’t have gone to, lots of crowds I shouldn’t have run with.”
“What changed? You weren’t a partier when I met you.”
She rubs her hands over her legs again. “I feel like I’m getting too heavy right before you go see your family.”
“Brooks,” I say, leaning over the console. “I’m interested. Unless you don’t want to tell me.”
“You’re my boss,” she whispers.
“Can I not be for tonight?” Please.
Laney matches my position, turns in her seat, and tucks one leg underneath her body. “Okay. This all stays here?”
“Yo
u can trust me.”
“I believe that.” She grins. “Things changed because I finally dealt with the fact that I’m an orphan. Nicole was nineteen when our mom died. I was only sixteen. She did her best to keep me in line, but I hid how I really felt with a whole lot of noise and bad choices. Back in Boston, I somehow managed to get into a community college, and started meeting with a therapist. It helped a lot actually, and when Nicole moved here, I’d managed to pull good enough transcripts to get into UMN.
“I sort of fell back into old habits at first. Had a few issues freshman and sophomore year, but found another counselor who helped me foster my interest in business. Especially since Nicole had opened the Bean. I had a few issues for a little while, but finally figured myself out. The rest is history, I guess.”
There is something perfect and heartbreaking about this moment. Laney let me see beneath the surface, trusted me. Me. The guy she calls a skeezah, who drives her to curse, and go red in the face. It’s a heady sort of feeling to hold a bit of her story like this. Before I lose my nerve, I cover her hand with mine, and squeeze.
“I’m glad you had support.” Her eyes are glassy when she meets mine. I tilt my head, leaning closer. “But I promise, you could have puke green hair, two nose rings—an idea we ought to discuss.”
“I never took you for a nose ring guy.”
“Only on you.” I shrug away the confession, teasing, and loving it. “You could have a tongue ring, face tats, and you’d get a fair shot inside there.” I point at the bakery. “We all have our battles, right? But one thing I can say for my family is we learned the hard way how to give people the benefit of the doubt before thinking less of them.”
She squeezes my hand in return, and seems as though she might say something, but thinks better of it.
I open my door again. “Besides, Brita wants you to go out with her and Elle. I’d say you’re winning.”
“That’s true. She does like me more than you.”
I laugh, but don’t deny it. The way I’ve been acting the last few months, I bet my entire family will like Laney more than me. “So. You ready?”
Laney answers by opening her door and stepping out of the car. The walk across the street is nothing, and the moment I open the side door to the kitchen, my stomach knots. Now I’m the one who’s nervous. Why? This’ll make my mom over the moon; she might even cry.
Then again, that might be exactly the problem. They’ll like Laney. There’s no way they won’t.
And then it’ll end.
I’ll see the light in my mom’s eyes dim again.
I brush the thoughts to the back of my mind and breathe in familiar smells from all corners of the wide kitchen. Rising bread, butter, sugar, cinnamon. Laney draws a deep breath through her nose and beams at me as I lead us through the doorway out into the front dining room.
In another heartbeat we’re met with squeals and roars. I forget to be the suave boss of analytics and crouch, arms open as three sets of legs, arms, and three smiles rush me like I’ve been gone for a year. Axel’s kids, Kaz and Bodie, are skinny shorties, and Kirstie is a lanky almost six-year-old. They’re easy to wrap into one hug.
Kaz growls and wraps his arms around my neck, Bodie swings from one of my arms, and Kirstie latches to my waist and legs.
“Drag me!” she squeals. “Walk, Uncle Bass. Walk! Drag us.”
“Laney,” I say through a grunt. “Meet the monkeys.”
I smile into the lobby. Brita is coming to save me, Elle close behind. Axel and Jonas sit back, smirking, as if enjoying the way their offspring bring me down.
“Monkeys?” Laney says. All six eyes lock on the new face. “Are they the kind of monkeys that like bouncy balls?”
“Yes!” all three scream as one.
I watch, a little taken back, as the kids drop me like leftovers, and rush to Laney. She’s digging through her purse and pulls out three, super bouncy balls this size of their little hands. “Okay, but these balls have a few rules,” she tells them. “If they come too close to glass, or if anyone throws them at anyone else on purpose, they’ll lose their magic.”
“Magic?” Kirstie says, aghast.
Laney nods. “Yep. They can send wishes to the stars if you bounce them high enough.”
I face the dining room. Brita has stopped, eyes wide. She lifts her brows and looks to me, mouthing, marry her, as Laney finishes her speech and the kids collectively decide to go to the loft upstairs. The only thing they can hurt is an old, aluminum filing cabinet that is bolted to the wall.
When Laney faces me again, it takes a whole lot of willpower not to kiss her. I’m not even freaked out by that idea. Not at the moment, at least.
“You just carry bouncy balls,” I ask.
She shrugs. “I know your schedule, remember? I knew you were stopping here.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
She lowers her voice. “Maybe I wanted you to ask me.” She glances down, cheeks red. “What?”
I must have a strange look on my face, but I can’t stop staring at her.
“I was a nanny through college, okay?”
“Full of surprises, Brooks,” I whisper.
“Laney!” Brita says after another second. “I’m so glad you came.”
And then my family swallows Laney whole.
Brita takes the lead and introduces her to everyone. Elle has met her before through Nicole, but they talk anyway, then Brita’s dad and stepmom. I drift to Philip and my grandpa, in the habit of visiting the patriarchs first.
“Hey gramps,” I say, hugging him. “How are you feeling? Did you know you’re almost ninety?”
“Ack,” he says, smacking my arm. “Hush, boy. What keeps you from us? Fancy suits, nice cars?”
“I drive a Ford, grandpa,” I say with a laugh and face Philip, giving him a hug too. He pats my face like always.
“Ah, you work too hard. You get it from me,” Philip says in his thick Swedish accent, as though we share blood. “Certainly not from this lazy bag of skin and bones.”
“You would not know a hard day’s work if it bit you on the nose,” my grandpa grumbles.
As they bicker over the bravado of their personal work ethic, I watch as Laney is being led to my parents. Why am I anxious? My parents are pretty relaxed people, but I can’t help holding my breath.
“This is Elias,” Brita says.
I watch my dad shake her hand, then laugh with her, and I’m curious what she said to draw out his booming amusement. Usually it takes a bit of prodding. My mom doesn’t wait for Brita before she squeezes Laney, like she wants to snap her in half.
Then a hand smacks the back of my head.
“What?” I mumble, feeling like I’m twelve again.
Axel grips the back of my neck, shaking me, just to be irritating. “Good to see you, little one.” Axel is the tallest of the three of us, and for a hot second I thought I might be bulkier than him when I grew into my limbs, but something happened and I turned into Jonas. Tall and lean.
“You’re welcome for giving your kids a solid hour of entertainment,” I say and shirk him off.
“Eh, no. You get no credit, that’s all her.” He points at Laney.
Jonas comes to my other side, arms folded over his chest.
“What?” I ask him, pulse speeding. He’s studying Laney. Jonas has always been more pensive than the rest of us. But after the speech I made about the Olsens not judging, and being the most accepting family ever, he better not be—
“You look happy, Bass,” Jonas says softly. “Keep it that way.”
Even Axel doesn’t tease me, simply claps his hand on the back of my neck again, smiling and silently agreeing.
Elle, Brita, and my parents sit with Laney, talking her ear off and introducing her to the endless plates of pastries, cookies, and a few tarts.
I do feel happy.
I didn’t notice.
I’ve been happy all day. Laney Brooks makes me feel happy.
The m
ore I think about it, the more I realize—she always has.
Chapter 16
Laney
I’m dead. As in, any second my heart is going to give out, in the best ways. A small groan escapes my throat as I devour the smooth, salty and sweet, little truffle. Viggo, Bastien’s grandpa barks out a raspy chuckle, and points a knobby finger at Philip Jacobson.
“Good tastes, good tastes,” he says.
“This is delicious,” I tell him. “But Mr. Jacobson, the—what did you call it?”
“Kanellӓngd. Said like kin-a-link. Cinnamon bread,” he says.
“That reminds me of my late gran’s Irish cinnamon soda bread. But I’ve got to say, I think yours is better.”
The old man’s face lifts in a wrinkled smile. I must’ve said the right thing.
When I left my house this morning, I had few expectations. Honestly, I imagined an awkward game with Bastien and me trying to figure out how to be convincing to others without embarrassing ourselves. Then when I knew he planned to visit home, I thought I might stand in the corner, shyly introducing myself as Nicole’s sister, and wait patiently while his family ignored me and doted on him.
Now? I don’t think I’m ever going to leave.
Not once have I been left in the corner, shunned from a conversation. Not even close. Between Sigrid Olsen asking me everything but the time I was born, to the three kids pummeling back into the dining room, desperate to show me how high the bouncy balls bounce, I’ve felt more content in this bakery than I have for a long time.
“So, Laney, Elle and I were thinking we could go out to eat with you and Nicole before the wedding. Nicole didn’t want to have a bachelorette party, but maybe we could compromise.”
I grin. “She didn’t want a party simply because there isn’t really anyone but family to invite. So basically you, me, and of course she’d want to include Agnes.”
“Any other friends we should know about?”
“Nicole likes to keep things simple. Her staff at her café threw her a bridal shower, but most of her friends are still in Boston, and not at bridesmaid level anymore. I blame myself for her not having time for friends. She had to play Mom with me, and I didn’t make it easy.”