Page 211 of Over The Line
Jake claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Congratulations, man.”
I nod once as Carina leans into my side, still shaking her head as she watches the yard fill with people.
“You’re unbelievable, Hutchison.”
I tighten my grip around her waist.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “But you’re marrying me anyway.”
Across the yard, the gate creaks and Viktor steps through, his broad shoulders filling the space as he holds the gate open with one arm.
He pauses just inside the fence, taking in the scene with that same calm, assessing look he brings to the ice—like he’s already calculating the angles of everything happening in front of him.
Heidi slips through next with a nod to him, and the difference between them is immediate.
Viktor stands there like a statue someone forgot to animate, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, expression unreadable as he scans the crowd.
Heidi, on the other hand, looks like she’s walked straight out of a rooftop bar somewhere—hair loose, lipstick perfect, wearing a dress that definitely wasn’t chosen with backyard barbecues in mind.
She spots the ring first.
“Oh, shit!” She grins as she crosses the yard. “You actually did it.”
Carina lifts her hand automatically, and Heidi whistles.
“That’s a rock, babe.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Carina mutters.
Viktor reaches us a second later, stopping just long enough to glance down at Carina’s hand. Then he looks at me with a single nod of approval. Which, coming from Viktor, is basically a standing ovation.
Heidi nudges him lightly with her elbow.
“See?” she says. “Some men are capable of commitment.”
Viktor’s gaze flicks toward her.
“I am capable,” he says evenly.
She snorts, grabbing a flute of champagne from a nearby table. “Please. The day you get married is the day hell freezes over.”
“I am Swedish,” he replies, following her. “Hell freezes over frequently.”
Carina bites her lip as she watches them.
Heidi rolls her eyes at Viktor, but there’s a spark in them when she hands him a glass—something sharp and curious and maybe just a little dangerous.
Viktor takes the flute and studies her for a beat, in a quiet, unbothered way of his.
Carina leans closer to me, lowering her voice.
“There’s something weird going on there.”
I watch the two of them for a second. Viktor standing there with his bubbles, analyzing Heidi like a chess board.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Good luck to them.”
Across the yard Chase purposefully shakes and then pops another bottle of champagne so that it fizzes out in a white arc of foam, and the backyard erupts into cheers.
Ivy claps her sticky hands against Charlie’s shoulder like this whole ridiculous celebration was her idea in the first place.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, with my brilliant fiancée tucked against my side and our daughter squealing with delight, I glance toward the treehouse in the corner of the yard, with its ivy climbing stubbornly up the boards the way it always has.
Life’s funny like that.
Loud and messy and somehow still growing anyway.
