Page 62 of Complete Me

“Spy novels, mostly.” He holds out his hand to Xander, and they shake, then he turns to me with his hand outstretched.

This time, Xander lets me handle it. “Thank you, but I don’t shake hands.”

Without missing a beat, Gary drops his and gives me a slight bow. It’s more of an inclination of the head, but it’s appreciated. “Not a problem. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.” Bjorn slips in beside me and hands me my wine, leaning in to gently kiss my cheek. I turn to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.

He grins and walks behind me to Xander, handing him his wine and kissing his cheek as well. Then he grabs Astrid in a big hug. “Hey, Bean. How was your week?”

She flounders for all of ten seconds, her eyes darting between us before she bursts out laughing. “Not as good as yours, obviously. So…” She gestures to the three of us, eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Bjorn turns back to the stove like there isn’t going to be fallout from that one word.

“Oh, no, big brother. That’s not how this is going to play out.” She’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I have questions.”

“We have questions.“ Gunnar’s eyes sparkle like it’s Christmas morning.

Bjorn shrugs. “How about we hold them until we’re sitting at the table? Dinner’s in fifteen minutes.” I snort at that because there’s no way this family will patiently wait for information, especially this kind. “Fine.” Bjorn turns to Gunnar. “Make the salad.” He looks at Astrid and nods toward the cupboards. “Set the table. Then I’ll tell you.”

Gunnar barks out a less than humorous laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Dad.”

I freeze, my wine halfway to my lips. I remember almost every fight between them starting this way. Bjorn turns around, eyebrows drawn down, mouth in a frown. The tension in the room ratchets up to eleven. This is going to blow up. It’ll end in disaster. Will I need to call the police? Lord, how would that go with Bjorn being on the force? As Bjorn’s lips part, I mentally chant no, no, no, no.

“You’re right. That was rude. I’m sorry. I should have asked and not told you what to do.” Bjorn looks back at the pot on the stove and then at Gunnar. “If you want answers right now, I’ll give them to you.” His shoulders are rigid, but his voice is even and his eyes are sincere. “Or, if you’ll be a little patient, I’ll make the salad, and we can all sit down at the dinner table and I can tell you while we eat. But if you opt for having the conversation right now, I’m going to turn off the stove so nothing burns. Things might be lukewarm when we finally eat.” He holds Gunnar’s gaze. “Your call.”

Gunnar blinks, like he’s just as surprised things didn’t devolve into chaos. Or maybe he’s simply surprised by the apology. “Nah. I can wait. The explanation wasn’t the issue.” His lips twitch like he wants to smile. “I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on.”

Astrid nudges Bjorn, a big smile on her face. “You better not burn my dinner.” She kisses his cheek and walks past him to the refrigerator, pulling produce from the drawers. “I can make the salad.”

“We can set the table.” Jules tugs Erik’s arm, and they gather plates and silverware.

Bjorn’s back is to the room as he stirs the literal pot. His shoulders are still tense, and though I’m no longer afraid there’ll be a blowup, there’s still a level of unease in the room. I nudge Xander and jerk my head toward Bjorn. He needs comforting, and Xander is way better at that than I am. Xander looks confused, so I point at him, then at Bjorn, and hug myself. It would be so much easier if Xander knew ASL.

He must get my point because he pushes off the counter and steps up beside Bjorn, sliding an arm around his waist. “Hey, sweetheart. Can I do anything to help?”

Thankfully, the tension in Bjorn’s shoulders eases, and he melts into Xander’s side. “Thanks, babe. But no, I think we have it under control.”

“Okay, but if you need us to do anything, please ask. We’re happy to help.” Xander steps back, but Bjorn slips an arm around him, pulling him close again, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. I’m overwhelmed with relief and so much affection for these two men.

“I will.” He looks over his shoulder to me and holds out his hand. Without hesitation, I take it. Bjorn squeezes once, and I return the gesture. Following his cues is easier than initiating comforting contact. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He lets go of my hand,but keeps Xander close. They murmur something about the recipe, and it’s clear that Xander has this handled and Bjorn will be fine. Swallowing the last of my wine, I turn to refill it and catch Astrid’s eye.

She hands me the bottle, glancing between the three of us, then smiles. “Whatever it is, it’s good for him. That’s obvious. And as long as you continue to make him happy, then I’m happy.”

As shovel speeches go, it’s pretty tame, but I don’t dismiss the intent. Astrid has always been the stable, consistent sibling. Playful, but not destructive. Teasing but never mocking. But threaten her or her brothers? She’s vicious. I can’t imagine that’s changed. I pour my wine and toast her with it. “Message received and understood.”

“Good.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “I have so many questions.”

I snort and sip my wine. “Direct them to your brother. I plead the fifth.”

Her lighthearted laugh fills the room, and I don’t think I imagine the residual anxiety dissipating in everyone else. Astrid is the heart of this family. The glue that quietly holds them together. And they would be utterly lost without her.

Just about fifteen minutes later, we’re all seated around the dining room table, and a bit of the tension is back. Though I suspect it’s more anticipation of Bjorn’s explanation, combined with not wanting to be the person to bring it up again for fear of causing another scene. I finish chewing my bite of food, take a sip of wine, then set down my glass and turn toward Bjorn, one arm slung over the back of his dining chair. “Are you really going to make them wait longer?” Bjorn looks up from his plate and raises one eyebrow in a ‘really?’ kind of look, which only makes me chuckle. I’ve turned that look into an art form. “Don’t think throwing my look back at me has any effect. You do not intimidate me, Bjorn.”

He valiantly tries to fight his smile, so it turns into more of a smirk. “Who says I’m trying to intimidate you?”

“That half-assed attempt at whatever that was.” I gesture vaguely to his face. “You’re far too handsome for that to work. Scowling only makes you look broody and mysterious.”

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