The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(49)

My first stop was on the first floor, at the small bedroom across from the stairs. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, looking at where Cody was lying on the bed, Gregory lounging on a plush chair tucked off in the corner, a book in his hands. He looked up as I pushed opened the door, and gave a friendly smile as I poked my head in.

Cody sat up, his blanket falling off his shoulders. “Violet?” he asked, squinting at me, and I realized I might have woken him up.

“I’m sorry, Cody,” I said, taking a step inside. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”

He rubbed his eyes and then shrugged. “It’s a nice room,” he said awkwardly, his fingers playing with the edge of his blanket. “The house sounds weird.”

“Is it scary?” I asked, and he gave me a sullen look.

“I don’t get scared,” he said flatly, and I fought back a smile, sensing the bristle around him. He didn’t like that for some reason, so I didn’t prod. Things with Cody after what had happened with Desmond had been going surprisingly well. Granted, it was all through baby steps, but there was something there.

“I’m sorry,” I said ceremoniously. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted to see if you wanted anything before Viggo and I went up to bed. Some water, or a snack?”

Cody cracked a yawn and then shook his head. “I’m good,” he said, lying back down on the bed.

I turned to Gregory. “You need anything?”

The older man smiled broadly and shook his head. “That was kind of you to ask, but no, I don’t.”

Smiling in response, I closed the door and turned back to Viggo, noting the pleased smile on his lips. “He’s doing better, isn’t he?” he said.

“He is,” I allowed. “I just wish I could trust him completely.”

Viggo didn’t bother to object. We both shared the same fear. Viggo was just being a bit bolder with his hope than I was allowing myself to be.

Another insufferable yawn had my voice cracking as we climbed the stairs leading to the next floor and the three bedrooms there.

Ms. Dale and Henrik had taken the master bedroom—not that we had minded, of course. Since Henrik’s wound still needed dressing, it had seemed best to let them take the room with an enclosed bathroom attached.

I moved for the door on the right end of the hall, pulling it open and looking at Tim and Jay splayed out on the twin beds inside. Both of them were fast asleep, and I could see that they’d had dinner in their room, evidenced by the tin plates, devoid even of crumbs, sitting on the nightstands adjacent to their beds.

Smiling at the picturesque sight, I lingered, trying to commit every detail to memory. Then I closed the door, eager to fall into the soft embrace of our bed. I paused when I saw Viggo looking at me, a hungry spark in his emerald eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. A little too quickly.

“Nuh-uh. Spill. Why were you looking at me like that?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him, waiting for his answer.

He smirked, and then nodded to the room. “I was just watching you check on the boys, and I thought about how you might be as a mother. I was not opposed to the idea.”

Neither was I, but with everything developing more quickly and feeling more out of control than ever, I hedged the thought, afraid to even entertain the possibility for fear of dreaming of it and then having it cruelly ripped away. I took a deep breath, trying to settle the sudden onset of turmoil, and carefully pushed it to one side.

“Are you okay?” Viggo asked, ever keyed in to my wellbeing. It drew a smile to my lips.

“I’m not,” I admitted honestly, not wanting to push him away. “But it’s the same old doubts as before. What’s going to happen, are we going to make it, will this ever stop feeling so… terrible?”

“Will we ever get to stop saying goodbye?” he added dryly, and I nodded, the smile on my lips tilting up some before going back down, his humorous jab barely softening the weight the truth always brought.

“It’s getting a little old,” I said, and he gave a half chuckle, a quick sound escaping him. “And our luck is going to run out eventually.”

“Don’t say that,” Viggo said darkly, reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Don’t you dare. I’m not dying like this, and neither are you. We’re going to go in our sleep at the exact same time, after we’ve seen our children grown and our grandbabies as well. I want to be a crotchety old man whose nagging wife makes him go out and spend time with his friends. I want to sit by your side on our porch and hold your hand while we watch the sunset. I want every ridiculous moment for every terrible one, and I expect you to give them to me, with no doubt.”

I felt that warm, tingling glow that always flooded me when Viggo talked about the future, his words setting my imagination aflame as I thought about us growing old together. How wonderful it would be to spend a lifetime with my best friend. To raise our children together and watch them grow and develop interests of their own.

“Thank you.” I grinned up at him. “Once again, you always know what to say.”

The intense look in his face softened, and he stepped in close to embrace me. “I just speak from my heart,” he said roughly. “To be honest, though… that growing old thing made me question my heart for a second. I was afraid that picture would be a deal breaker.”