Page 23 of Only and Forever
“Hmm.” I step closer, my gaze drifting along the spines. I recognize a handful that I’ve read, all of which I liked. I drift a finger down the spine of a book that made me cry like a baby, another one that kept me on pins and needles right up to the end, and then...
My fingers slide off the bookshelf. I turn and face Viggo. I know immediately that he knows it’s my book.
“Charlie didn’t tell me,” he says, reading my expression. “I figured it out on my own.”
“How?”
He picks up a copy, turns it to the back, and clears his throat. “ ‘Z.S. Ruhig writes weird, creepy stories because the world’s given her plenty of disturbing material to work with. She doesn’t pass out candy on Halloween, says bah-humbug at Christmas, and spends all her money on overpriced clothes and takeout.Isochronis her debut novel.’ ”
“You figured out it was me from myauthor bio?”
“Nah. The author bio was compelling but gave nothing away. When I read it, I just knew it was your writing. You have a very vivid style.”
“You recognized my style from one semester of college, seven years ago, being peer partners twice.”
He tips his head. “Very good memory. Itwastwice.”
My cheeks heat. “I was approximating. I didn’t remember exactly.”
He smiles. “Uh-huh.”
Sighing heavily, I turn back to the bookshelves and scowl. “I can’t believe you putmybook in your store.”
His smile slips off his face. “Why the hell are you so mad about that?”
“Because...” I flap my hands, aggravatingly lost for words. I’m a writer, dammit. I should be better at expressing myself. “Because... I don’t write happy endings.”
Viggo snorts and leans against the bookshelf, arms across his chest, grinning. It’s so condescending, I want to grab him by those biceps pressing against his shirt and shake him until he sees sense. “Tallulah, you do. You wrote about people healing together, rediscovering hope. That’s a happy ending.”
“I—”
“Lucia’s hit her wall,” his brother Ren says, wrapping an arm around Viggo while a baby strapped to his chest with dark, fluffy hair wails. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says to both of us. “Just didn’t want to disappear on you,” he tells Viggo.
Viggo arches an eyebrow my way. “Nice to seesomepeople don’t want to do that.”
I glare at him.
Turning, Viggo hugs his brother, then plants a quick, soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, tenderly cupping her head as he does. A weird lump builds in my throat as I watch him.
The baby’s cry dims and her eyes slip shut as Viggo swirls his fingers around her head, like a gentle scalp massage. He does it again, then another time. The crying stops. Her eyes flutter, then fall shut. Her mouth drops open for a tiny baby snore. She’s out like a light.
Ren shakes his head as another Bergman joins the gathering, Viggo’s brother Oliver. “I tried that just two minutes ago,” Ren says in an indignant whisper. “It didn’t work!”
Viggo grins smugly. “Must be the magic favorite-uncle touch.”
“Hey!” Oliver hiss-whispers over the now sleeping baby. “I’mthe one who came up with that soothing technique.”
“Wedid,” Viggo says. “AndI’mthe one who perfected it. Standard procedure.”
Oliver blinks at his brother, then lunges around Ren for Viggo, swiftly getting Viggo in a headlock before going straight for what Viggo’s muffled shriek reveals is his tickle spot.
“The baby!” Viggo squeaks into Oliver’s torso. “I’m gonna wake her up!”
The sound is so high and strained, it makes me hide a smile behind a fist. I pretend to clear my throat.
“I’m gonna scream!” Viggo hisses, wiggling frantically, but Oliver’s too quick, pinning Viggo’s wrists in his grip.
“Should have thought of that before you ran your obnoxious mouth,” Oliver whispers back, tickling him even more.