CHAPTER 84

CHAPTER 84
Morning light shone into thin gold lines across the rug. 

Sigurd’s palms smacked the carpet in uneven little thuds. I sat cross-legged opposite him, bare feet tucked under my thighs, and held out the wooden block the colour of dried leaves. 

His fingers closed around it, warm and slightly damp. He brought it straight to his mouth with a wet smack.

I watched his dark lashes lower while he gnawed. 

Sigurd dropped the block and reached for my wrist instead. I giggled at how firm his grip is. “You really want that, don’t you?”

I let him tug my hand closer, then rolled the block back toward him with my free fingers. 

His laugh came out as a short, breathy burst, followed by another slap of palms on the floor.

By the time the wall clock showed nine the light had climbed higher. 

I gathered him up, the solid weight of him settling against my hip, and carried him to the high chair. 

The spoon clicked against the ceramic bowl as I stirred the oatmeal. His legs kicked under the tray.

I fed him in small scoops, wiping the corners of his mouth with the edge of a cloth whenever the paste smeared. 

“Thank you, Rosie. You can take him, I need to prepare for work.” I said as I gave Sigurd as kiss on the cheek and handed him over to his live-in nanny.

I went upstairs to take a shower as I have returned to work. Our lives have returned to normal. 

My mother visits from time to time, Luca packed all his bags and left. I guess he felt like there was nothing left for him here.

I arrived at the office, dropped my bag on the table and got comfortable so I can get started on some work.

My desk sat near the window that looked over the parking lot. The sun angled across the stacks of folders. 

I flipped through invoices, paper whispering under my fingertips.

I stood, having a quick question for the big boss.

The chair rolled back with a soft scrape. I walked the short corridor to Dan’s office. 

His door stood half open and blinds drawn to half-mast, stripes of light falling across his desk. 

He sat hunched over the laptop, screen glow reflecting in his glasses. The air in there carried the sharp smell of untouched coffee in the mug near his elbow.

I paused in the doorway.  
“The quarterly inventory figures, did the warehouse send the corrected sheet yet?”

His head lifted from the laptop and fingers stilled on the keyboard. For a second he said nothing stared at me as if he was trying to recall what I am asking him.

He nodded once, turned the screen slightly so I could see the attachment. “It came in an hour ago. I forwarded it.”

I stepped closer, I scanned numbers and nodded. “That clears the discrepancy.”My voice stayed even. 

He gave another short nod and returned to his work. The click of typing resumed before I had fully turned away.

l sat back at my own desk. I worked through the remaining sheets, pen scratching softly, but every so often my gaze drifted to the empty stretch of wall between my desk and the corridor that led to his office.

The clock showed nearly four when lighter, quicker footsteps approached. 

My new best friend’s shadow fell across the doorway first, Alyssa. She carried a folder and a half-empty water bottle. I leaned back, chair tilting.

“You look like you’re drowning in numbers,” she said, setting the folder on the edge of my desk. The plastic bottle made a soft thud.

I gestured at the remaining stack. “I am almost finished though. How’s the Miller account?”

“It’s coming okay. How’s things between you and your husband?”Her voice stayed light, but her fingers kept turning the cap of the water bottle, twisting it one way, then the other. 

I gave her a weird look. “Everything is fine, why are you asking?” A small line appeared between her brows. I watched the motion, then tilted my head.

“What is it?” She stopped twisting the cap. 

Her shoulders rose and fell in a quick breath. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and waved one hand as if brushing away a fly.  

“Nothing important. I was just asking, nothing to be worried about.”She smiled, but the corners of her mouth didn’t quite hold.  

“Are you sure?” I asked her, she eagerly nodded. “Anyway, I’m going to stop by and see the little guy later today.”

My fingers tightened on the edge of the folder. The cardboard bent slightly under the pressure. I looked up. 

Her expression stayed casual, but her eyes flicked once toward the corridor and back. 

My pulse gave a single harder beat against the side of my throat. She had never come by the house before, not even once.

“Okay,” I said, the word came out flat. She nodded, already stepping back.  

“I’ll text when I’m on the way.” She lifted the water bottle in a small salute and disappeared down the hall, footsteps fading into the general office hum.

I sat another minute, the papers in front of me suddenly harder to focus on. The light outside had begun to soften toward evening. 

I gathered the finished files, locked the drawer, and walked to the parking lot. 

Asphalt still held the day’s heat; it rose in a dry wave against my legs as I crossed to the car.  

I pulled out onto the main road.

Halfway home the familiar green-and-white sign of the coffee shop appeared on the right. 

The same shop where the smell of roasted beans spilled onto the sidewalk. I had driven past it a dozen times in the last few weeks without stopping. 

The car slowed. I signalled, turned into the small lot, and parked between a delivery van and a sedan with a cracked bumper.

I went inside, bitter scent of espresso and the sweeter undercurrent of steamed milk. 

I stood in the short line, cool air-conditioning brushing the back of my neck. 

The first day that Tyson and I officially met he had taken me out on a coffee after finding out his brother is cheating on me.

I took a sip. The taste was sharp, almost burnt at the edges, exactly as I remembered. 

I stood near the window a moment, watching the steam curl up and dissolve. After a few minutes of reflecting about my life choices I stood up and went home.

The drive home took twelve minutes. The house came into view with the porch light already on, though the sky still held a pale wash of blue. 

I parked, killed the engine, and I gathered my bag and the half-empty coffee and walked up the path.

Inside, Dan sat on the floor with Sigurd between his knees.

A soft toy shaped like a bear lay on its side near them. Sigurd was reaching for it, making small, determined sounds. 

Dan’s hands hovered near the child’s waist, steadying him. The moment the front door closed, Dan’s shoulders tightened. 

The line of his back straightened. His hands paused in the air for half a second before they returned to Sigurd.

I set my bag down by the wall. “You’re home early.”

Dan didn’t look up at once. He guided Sigurd’s fingers onto the bear’s ear. 

“Finished the last of the reports.”His voice was low, the words clipped at the ends.

I stepped farther into the room. The coffee in my hand had gone lukewarm. “You didn’t say you were leaving.”

He gave a short shrug, still facing the child. “Didn’t think of it.”  He rose in one motion, lifting Sigurd with him for a moment before settling the boy back on the rug.  

“I’m going to shower.”I nodded. The sound of his footsteps moved up the stairs, floorboards creaking in the familiar places. 

I sat on the edge of the sofa and watched Sigurd push the bear across the carpet.

Footsteps came down the stairs again, lighter this time. Dan appeared in the doorway wearing a dark shirt and jeans, hair still damp at the ends. 

He looked once at Sigurd, once and then crossed to the front door. The door opened and closed.

I remained on the sofa. Sigurd had rolled onto his stomach and was reaching under the edge of the rug for something only he could see. 

I slid down onto the floor beside him. The carpet felt rough under my palms. I offered him the wooden block again. 

His fingers closed around it. Sigurd’s breath came in soft, even puffs as he studied the block, turning it over and over in the quiet room. “I don’t know what to do.”