Page 144 of Barbi and the Villain

“Do not fucking thank me, Barbs. This is not all right. You will not refer to yourself as ignorant again, is that clear?”

“But I am technically ignorant of a lot of things. Before we came here, I had no idea how to cook or do laundry by hand and?—”

“And you learned. You did not know, but you put in the effort to learn. No matter how many tries it took, you did it until you perfected it. There is no shame in not knowing something. Recognizing you do not know it and then putting in the work to learn it is a mark of greatness.”

He straightens his back as he regards me, his words as unyielding as his countenance.

“Did you call me…great?” I ask tentatively, afraid it was just a figure of speech.

“I did. You are smart, hardworking, humble, and kind. And whoever does not recognize that can go fuck themselves,” he states with great conviction.

My heart flutters in my chest.

“No one’s ever called me that,” I say in a small voice.

He tilts his head to the side, frowning.

“No one?”

I shake my head.

“Air-headed, ditzy, sometimes delusional. Those are the words people would use to describe me,” I murmur, half ashamed.

“Who?”

“Everyone at home. My parents…”

“Your parents?” he asks in horror.

“I do not fit their idea of a perfect daughter. Mainly my mother. But she wants me to be some type of genius when I am not and I have never been,” I add with a sigh.

“That is her fault for not recognizing who you are and instead forcing you to be who they want you to be.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“It is not a compliment. It is merely the truth.”

“Still.” I smile. “It’s nice to have someone say that. I was feeling pretty shitty before, but now I’m happy,” I say in a bright voice.

He watches me intently, a gentle smile curving at his lips.

“Let me help you.” He comes over to my aisle and helps me prepare the food for little Ander, following my instructions to a T without voicing any objection.

And as we finish the food and go out, he surprises me with more chocolate truffles.

“I do not like it when you are sad,” he mentions awkwardly as we walk back to our cabin. “If anything bothers you, tell me and I will fix it for you.”

“I can do it myself, too, Nykander. But I appreciate the sentiment,” I tell him with a smile.

He nods and reaches for my hand, cradling it in his bigger one. Warmth spreads through me and I barely contain my glee.

This is the first time he’s taken the initiative.

We reach our cabin, and for a short while, we play with the dogs before Nykander tells me to get some rest and he will take them to get some exercise. Despite wanting to disagree for the simple reason that I want to spend more time with him, I relent and go to bed.

“Nykander?” I ask before he’s about to go out the door.

“Huh?” He turns toward me, his brows raised.

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