10. Bjorn

10

Bjorn

“I’m surprised you didn’t come home with another dog.” Gunnar hops out of my Range Rover and jogs to catch up as I head for the main doors to the restaurant.

“Nah. Pita wouldn’t appreciate another doggie sibling. What I’m really surprised at is Xander not going home with a new pet. He was seriously adorable with both the dogs and the cats. So sweet and very affectionate.”

Gunnar gives me a side-eye. “Toward the animals?”

“Obviously.” I ignore the implied question. Xander has been quite affectionate toward me, too. But he’s also been affectionate toward Kaino, and I’m not sure if that’s how Xander is now with friends, or if he’s interested in both of us, or just one of us, or… I give up thinking about it. I’ve done way too much of that over the past few weeks, and I still don’t have any answers. “So, what starts with ‘W’ and ends with ‘T’?”

“No.” Gunnar shakes his head and walks faster.

Now it’s my turn to jog after him. “C’mon. What starts with ‘W’ and ends with ‘T’?”

With the most put-upon sigh ever, Gunnar stops and looks up at the sky. “What?”

“Exactly.” I bump his shoulder and open the door for him.

He glares at me as he walks into the restaurant. “You suck.”

“But you love me anyway.” Chuckling, I follow him into the lobby and smile at the three people already waiting. “Hi.” I wave at them. “You guys here for the cooking class, too?”

A twenty-something blonde woman with big blue eyes and a blindingly white grin nods. “Yep! This is going to be so much fun!” She has cheerleader vibes, and based on how unconvinced her two male companions seem, she must be the one who wanted to sign up for this class.

One of the guys looks to be in his early twenties, too. Or it could just be his baby face. He’s cute in a bookish way. It’s how I imagine Xander might have looked at that age. All tall and gangly, not yet grown into his arms and legs. The other guy’s age is harder to pin down, but I’m guessing late twenties. He’s built like me, broad across the chest and shoulders, with a tapered waist, giving off strong jock vibes that seem to fluster bookish boy. At least that’s my take because every time jock smiles at bookish, his cheeks get all pink, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It’s adorable. “Sure. I have no clue how to cook, but this’ll definitely be fun.” He peeks at jock and swallows hard. “Just the three of us.”

“Cooking is almost always fun.” A thick French accent precedes a woman in chef’s whites, who steps into the lobby from the dining room. “Even when you aren’t quite sure what you’re doing.” She’s petite and looks to be in her late forties, with dark brown hair laced with strands of silver. It’s pulled back into a low bun, and her dark brown eyes sparkle behind black-rimmed glasses. “But when you leave here, you most certainly will know more than you do right now about French cooking. Now.” She waves us forward. “I am Chef Bouchard. You may call me Chef or Chef Bouchard, whichever you prefer. I will lead you into the kitchen, and everyone will put on hair nets.” She assesses me and Gunnar. “You will need the face nets to cover your beards. After that, everyone will scrub their hands thoroughly at the sink and find a worktable. Then the fun begins.”

We all follow her like little ducklings, Gunnar and me bringing up the rear. I nudge him gently. “Thanks for coming with me. I could have done this by myself, but it’ll be more fun with you.”

The shock on Gunnar’s face and the accompanying soft smile are so far from the prickly response I still half expect, and I feel both a rush of affection for him and annoyance at myself for assuming the worst. I need to stop that. Gunnar’s changed, in no small part due to all the work he’s done in therapy. But Jocelin’s been a great influence, too. Gunnar grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Thanks. That means a lot. And no way was I passing up an opportunity to learn how to cook something French. Maybe I’ll actually impress my boyfriend’s parents next time they visit. Which, with any luck, won’t be for a very long time.”

I snort. “Jocelin’s dad doesn’t sound too bad.”

Gunnar shrugs. “True. But he gives in to his wife too much. Though I suppose I might, too, just to keep the peace.”

“Well, if they can’t see how good you and Jocelin are for each other, then they’re blind. And you shouldn’t have to impress them. Especially after the way they treated you. If anything, they should be trying to impress you.”

I’m not expecting the bear hug Gunnar hauls me into, and I have to fight down the lump in my throat. But I squeeze him hard and kiss the side of his head before we let go and hurry after the rest of our class.

As we walk past Chef Bouchard, she hands us hair and beard nets, and we put them on before moving to the industrial sinks to wash our hands. “Over the next two and a half hours, we will be preparing French onion soup, a classic Moules Marinières served with French baguette and homemade butter, Steak au Poivre with creamy leek gratin, and a traditional crème br?lée. And when we are finished, we will sit down for a meal and enjoy the results of our efforts.”

My stomach growls at the delicious-sounding menu. French food isn’t necessarily what I think of when I’m trying to decide what to make for the family, but when I went to the website for the evening cooking classes Gunnar had mentioned, this menu jumped off the page. I love seafood and steak, and I’ve always wanted to learn to make crème br?lée without burning the sugar. When I asked Gunnar to come with me, he quickly agreed. I’d half expected him to tell me no, but he keeps surprising me. And I’m really happy about that.

We wash and dry our hands under the watchful eye of Chef Bouchard, then take one of the free work surfaces. Chef walks to the front of the class and stops at the center stovetop, turning to face us. “You have baskets of ingredients on the shelf at your workstation. Please begin with basket number one.” Gunnar checks the shelf and pulls out a brown wicker basket with the number one on the handle. “You will also find canisters and tins of basic ingredients on your workstation.”

Everyone pays close attention while the instructor walks us through our first recipe, but when we’re set free to try it on our own, a low buzz of conversation begins.

I get busy chopping onions while Gunnar minces leeks and garlic the way Chef Bouchard showed us. “So…” Gunnar pauses in his chopping. “You’re still recovering from being stabbed, but when you’re better, are you really willing to help Jocelin move into my house?”

“Absolutely. And I’m fine now. All healed and ready whenever you need me.” Gunnar’s expression clearly calls bullshit. “Seriously. I had a doctor’s appointment last week, and I’m cleared for work.”

Gunnar raises his eyebrows. “On full or light duty?”

I glance around for Chef Bouchard. She’s busy with the other group, so I turn to Gunnar and flip him off. “Light duty, but that’s because I’m assigned to SWAT. I can still lift boxes that are less than fifty pounds, and I’ve been cleared to drive. So you guys can load up the furniture in the trucks, and I can drive one to your place. It’ll speed things up.”

“So, if you’ve been cleared, why aren’t you back at work?”

It’s a valid question, so I don’t give him shit for asking. “It’s the SWAT thing. I can’t be out in the field, and they don’t have much desk duty for SWAT members. So work still has me on medical leave even though I’ve turned in the release papers. I’m not in a rush to go back, anyway. The delay gives me time to investigate what I want to do instead. Hence our little excursion tonight.”

He snorts. “Did you just say hence? And I thought you invited me along to help me win over my future in-laws.”

Gunnar grins mischievously, but I stop chopping and stare at him in surprise. “Are you serious?”

His grin morphs to confusion. “About winning over Jocelin’s parents? Hell yes.”

“I meant the future in-laws thing. Are you guys that serious already? It’s a big step, Gunnar. Be really sure before you make that leap.” I realize my mistake as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

The glower he aims at me is thunderous, and I brace myself, fully expecting him to blow up and storm out. Especially with how fast his jaw is flexing and how tightly he’s gripping his knife. I’m about to suggest he put it down, but that will only make things worse. Gunnar takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes, and by feel alone, he sets the knife on the cutting board. “Sorry, Gunnar. That was a dick thing to say. You’re fully capable of making your own decisions.” He continues to stand quietly, eyes closed, breathing slowly, and I’m on pins and needles. But the blowup never happens.

With one final, deep inhalation, followed by an equally slow exhalation, Gunnar opens his eyes and looks at me. When he speaks, his voice is even and calm. “That was a load of bullshit. But I’m glad you recognize it, and I accept your apology. You’re trying.” He takes another moment before he continues. “But that’s only going to buy you so much time. You have to let it go, Bjorn. I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m not perfect, and I’m absolutely certain I’ll fuck up again. But it’s not your responsibility to make sure I don’t. Or to clean things up when I do. That’s on me.”

I hang my head. “Yeah. I know. I am trying to stop. I promise.”

“I know.” To my surprise, he pulls me into another hug. “You’re an asshole, but I love you. And now we need to wash our hands again. Then can we please focus on cooking? I have people to impress.”

For a long minute, I hold him tightly, then let him go and step back. “I love you, too.”

We walk to the sink and wash up again, using the scrubbing time to really calm down. I reach around him to grab a paper towel and dry my hands, then jerk my head toward the garlic. “Can we please finish so we can move on to the next part? We’re lagging behind the other group.”

Gunnar snorts and nudges me. “Your fault.”

I nudge him back. “True. Sorry.” When we’re at our table again, I glance over at the other students. It doesn’t seem like we lost too much time but we refocus on chopping ingredients. “I am happy for you. Jocelin’s a great guy, and you two are perfect together.”

Gunnar keeps his head down, but I see his soft smile. “We’re not perfect, but we are much better together than we are apart. I am, anyway. He keeps me grounded.”

“I’m a little jealous.” Gunnar’s head shoots up, and I laugh at his shocked expression. “Not of you being with Jocelin. But of what the two of you have. What the rest of you all seem to have found.”

Gunnar shakes his head. “I know what you meant, asshole. And you’ll find someone. They’re out there.”

It’s sweet of him to say, especially after I just told him he’s rushing things. But it’s not likely. “I’m not so sure.”

“What about one of the guys who visited you in the hospital?” When I glance up, he’s busy mincing. Or purposely not looking at me. Or both.

I tiptoe around the topic, not sure I want to get into that discussion in the middle of the cooking class. “How do you know about them?”

“Astrid. Jules told her he’d seen them at the hospital and wondered if she knew who the tall one was. I guess he knows the one with the blond hair?” He glances over at me. “So, who are they?”

I relax slightly. Who they are is easily answered and not dangerous territory. “The one with white-blond hair is Kaino Nieminen. You remember them.”

Gunnar’s eyes widen in surprise. “Didn’t he used to have blue hair? You dated him years ago. I thought he moved away. And what, he just shows up at the hospital to check on you after all this time?”

“Yes, that’s them .”

When I stress the correct pronouns, Gunnar nods. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. So they saw the news and showed up?”

“They saw the news and came to make sure I was alright. The other guy was Xander.”

Gunnar’s mouth drops open. “The sassy professor?”

I snort, already planning to share the nickname with both Kaino and Xander next time I see them. “He’ll love being called that, although he’ll pretend he hates being called sassy.”

Gunnar’s expression remains neutral, so something’s up. “He’s way too high maintenance for me.”

“Good thing you’re not dating him, then. Not that I am. And I don’t mind.” I wink at him, so he knows I’m not upset at that comment. “He’s incredibly smart but equally insecure, and it comes out as snark and sass. Yeah, it makes him a little bit needy, but he’s actually quite kind and funny.” Xander cuddling the baby animals was all I needed to see to know that part of him hadn’t changed. “Anyway, the three of us have been hanging out and reconnecting.” Gunnar stares at me. “What?”

“You’re all friends now? You just hang out? I’ve never known you to date more than one person at a time, so you can’t be dating both of them.” When I don’t say anything, he puts down his knife and stares at me. “ Are you dating both of them?”

Sighing, I shrug. “I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m not doing it with just one of them. We haven’t said we’re dating, but I think we might be? Whatever it is, it’s fun. And I don’t need to label it.”

“But you want to be doing whatever it is with both of them? I thought things didn’t work out with either of them before.”

Gunnar’s tone is curious and a bit perplexed, but there’s no hint of judgment. The tension I didn’t even know I was holding eases. “Yeah. I think I do.” I dump the onions into a bowl and grab some of the leeks Gunnar hasn’t finished yet. “I really like them both. A lot. And we’re all older now. It seems like we’re more settled. Maybe that’ll make a difference. Maybe it won’t.” I catch his gaze and hold it. “Thanks for not being judgy about it.”

He dumps the minced garlic into a small bowl, then helps me finish off the leeks. “So, do they know you’re doing whatever with both of them? Because that would be the only thing I’d judge you for. If they both know what the situation is, and they still want to do whatever with you, then fine.”

“Yes, they know.” I think. Shit. I probably should make sure they do. “And I kind of think they might be into each other, too.”

Gunnar’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “Really? So, what? You’re all poly?”

That brings me up short. Polyamorous? Technically, it would be multiple romantic, consensual, and hopefully sexual relationships at one time. So, yeah. Huh. Mind blown. “I guess. Not in the ‘I want to date anyone I’m attracted to’ kind of way. But in the ‘I’m really into both Kaino and Xander, and if they’re on board, I’m all for being a… a… throuple?’ Right?”

Gunnar nods. “Yeah, that’s what it’s called, if you all agree that you’re not dating anyone else.”

“Which would be my plan.” I glance at him again. “You’d be okay with that? It wouldn’t weird you out?”

He rolls his eyes. “Look. You’re all adults and able to consent or not. As long as you’re all on the same page with whatever you get up to, then it’s cool. The rest is your business and no one else’s.”

Shaking my head, I stare at him. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” It’s about all I can get out without moving into dangerously emotional territory, and there’s only so many tears I can blame on the onions.

“Cut it out. You’re going to cry, then I’m going to cry. Let’s talk about something else. When’s your next date?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grin and rest my hands on the workbench. “I had a date last night. It was perfect.”

“Yeah?” He beams, eyes sparkling. “And?”

“I think tonight I’ll try a grape.”

His brows draw down in confusion, and I wait for him to get the joke. When he does, finally , he groans and tosses a clove of garlic at me. “No jokes! You’re not funny!”

“But I am. I see you grinning.” Which he is. Then we notice the others in the group have gone quiet and are staring at us. “Whoops. Sorry.”

Chef Bouchard nods. “Laughter is as important in the kitchen as any other ingredient. If you aren’t having fun, then you’re doing it wrong. Now, let’s go over the next step. Yes?”

After that, Gunnar and I focus on the recipes, mostly so we don’t get in trouble. Two hours later, when everything is pulled together into a beautiful meal, cooked perfectly, including the caramelized, and not burnt, crème br?lée. We all take our meals into the dining room and sit, enjoying the food we’ve prepared.

About an hour later, I roll myself into the Range Rover, stuffed to bursting with some of the best food I’ve had in a very long time. “That was delicious. And fun.” I glance at Gunnar. “We should do another one.”

“I’m game. I had a great time tonight.” It’s said with such sincerity that I get a little choked up. Gunnar and I are going to be okay. I can feel it in my bones. “So, would you want to do that as a career?”

I shake my head. “Nah. It was a blast, and cooking is one of my favorite hobbies, but I think if that was my job it would take all the joy out of it and I’d end up hating it. And that would make me sad.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Do you think volunteering with animals might be an option?”

Putting on my blinker, I turn onto the ramp and merge into traffic. “Maybe? I could see myself working with animals all day, though not in any medical capacity. I don’t want to be a vet or a vet tech. Too many sad things happen.” My throat starts to close up, and there’s stinging behind my eyes as I think about all the pets who… nope! Not going there. I clear my throat. “Dog groomer might be fun though.”

“I think Jules is right. You really ought to look into dog training .”

With a snort, I quickly glance at him to see if he’s serious. “Why, because I’m doing such a fine job with my own dog?”

Gunnar chuckles. “Well, you’d have to be trained to be a trainer. But you love working with Pita on stuff. I think it’s at least worth investigating.”

He’s not wrong. I do love it. And when Pita finally learns a new skill, the rush is incredible. I should absolutely investigate the option. “It could turn out to be like the cooking, but yeah, you’re right. What do I have to lose?”

Gunnar squeezes my shoulder. “Nothing. And you might even gain a new career.” I pull off the highway and weave my way through the streets of Gunnar’s neighborhood, enjoying the cozy feel of the warm lights coming from the houses. I pull into his driveway and barely have the car in park before the front door swings open and Jocelin appears. I can feel the energy pouring from Gunnar. “Do you want to come in?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Not tonight. I’m beat, and I want to get home and put on some less restrictive clothing.” I pat my belly. “I definitely ate too much, but it was sooo good.”

“It really was.” His grin is all the proof I need that he means it. “Thanks for asking me to go with you. I had fun. And, Bjorn?” At his tone, I give him my full attention. “However things work out with you, Kaino, and Xander, I’ve got your back. If it makes you happy, then I’m one hundred percent supporting you with this.”

Jesus, when did my baby brother grow up? Shit. My vision gets blurry, and I lean over and haul him into a one-armed hug. “Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too, Bjorn.” He squeezes me once and then hops out of the Rover, hurrying up the walk to his boyfriend. Jocelin flings his arms around Gunnar, kissing him like they’ve been apart for years, and I grin, so happy for them both. They turn and wave before stepping into the house and closing the door behind them.

I put the SUV in reverse, back out of the drive, and head home. Alone.