Page 15 of Complete Me

“You can’t seriously blame me, when I have this gorgeous man in my bed.” He pulls a blushing Jocelin against his side and kisses his temple. “I love that he’s a bit of a screamer.”

Astrid throws a pot holder at him. “Ewww! Gunnar! TMI! I do not need to know that about my best friend!”

At the same time, Jocelin smacks his arm. “I am not!” His blush is eight different shades of red, but he’s grinning. “Much.”

“Sounds like I’m missing all the fun.” Astrid’s boyfriend, Gary, walks into the kitchen from the living room, slipping his arms around her waist.

She leans down to kiss him soundly on the lips. “You missed grossness and oversharing.”

“Oh, are we talking about Gunnar again?” Jules glides into the kitchen with Pita hot on his heels and Erik not far behind them.

Gunnar lobs the pot holder at Jules, but Erik intercepts it easily. “Quit assaulting my fiancé with random household textiles.”

I snort and lean against the counter. “Now that we’re all here, Gunnar, would you get the salad and the dressings out of the fridge? Joce, why don’t you grab plates and put them next to the stove, then set forks and knives on the table. Erik, you’re in charge of opening the wine. Jules, grab some glasses, please. Astrid can dish out the lasagna, and Gary, would you mind delivering the plates to the table?”

Astrid stares at me, her expression half amused, half incredulous. “And while we’re all running around doing your bidding, what will you be doing?”

Erik kisses Jules on the head as he grabs the wine opener. “Yeah, Dad? What’s your chore?”

“You just told me to go sit down.” I wink at her. “Plus…” I point to my hunter green apron with ‘Mr. Good lookin’ is Cookin’ emblazoned in gold thread. “I cooked. Which means my work here is done.” It’s the first time I’ve felt up to the task in the two weeks since I’ve been home.

Gunnar glowers, but there’s no real heat behind it. Jocelin is so incredibly good for him. “And who came up with that lame rule? Oh yeah, you.”

I cross my arms over my chest and grin. “It’s fair.” I also need the help. Unfortunately, I’m starting to fade. I’ve been on my feet for a few hours, and even though it feels amazing to be back in my kitchen, cooking for the people I love, it takes a lot to pull a meal for seven people together.

If the way Astrid’s watching me is any indication, I’m not fooling her. “Alright, out of the kitchen, then. We’ll get everything plated and bring it in.” She sweeps past me, kissing my cheek before nudging me in the direction of the dining room.

I pull off my apron, hang it on the hook in the pantry, and steal a cherry tomato on my way past Gunnar. “Hey, you know how Vikings like their eggs cooked?”

He shakes his head so fast I swear it’s going to fall off his neck. “Don’t.”

I stop and turn to face him, affronted. “Gunnar.”

He meets my eyes, fighting a smile. “Do not start with the jokes.”

Jules comes to my rescue. “How do Vikings like their eggs cooked?” I knew I liked him.

Beaming, I open my arms to him. “This is why you’re my favorite, Jules.”

“Hey, I already called dibs.” Erik possessively wraps an arm around his much smaller boyfriend, pulling him close while mock-glaring at me, which makes Jules laugh.

“They like their eggs just Odin-ary.” I pause and glance around at the expressions of pain and horror. “Odin Ary. Ordinary. Get it?”

Gunnar lobs the other pot holder across the room at my head and I duck, wincing as my side protests. “Oh shit. Sorry, Bjorn.”

I wave it off with a grin. “I’m good. But c’mon, that one was pretty good.”

There’s head shaking and groaning, and Jules covers his eyes. “No, that was bad.”

I press my hand over my heart and gasp in fake pain. “Now I have to reconsider your standing as my favorite.”

Erik hands me a glass of wine and pushes me toward the dining room. “It was awful, like all your jokes. Go sit.” But they’re all grinning, and the warmth in my chest threatens to leak out of my eyes. How long has it been since we were at peace with each other, no tension simmering under a happy veneer? Jesus, maybe we’re all going to be okay. I blink rapidly and wander into the dining room to take my usual seat.

With things going as well as they are, I try not to spend the entire meal waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. Our conversations are positive, the laughter outpaces the wine, and I think we might all be better than okay this time around. Taking a deep breath, I exhale and clear my throat. “So, I wanted to talk to you guys about something.” The table goes silent, and all eyes turn toward me, expressions ranging from mildly curious to barely masked fear. “Um, I’m thinking about retiring from the force.”

Silence hangs in the air for another second before there’s a collective exhalation of breath. Astrid is the first to find her voice. “About time.” She’s pretty much the only one at the table who could get away with saying that without pissing me off. “Why now?”

I shrug. “I almost died. It kind of has a way of reprioritizing your life.”

---