The Beauty Within (38 page)

“
Løsne på
,” Gunnar said, giving his mother a cheeky grin. Tekla shook her

head but grinned back.

“What does that mean?” Damon asked.

“Relax,” Euan said. “Except Tekla doesn’t really know how to do that.”

“
Pussig
? No…”

Gunnar bit back a laugh, but couldn’t fully because of Damon’s flabber-

gasted face. “Did your mother just say pus—?”

“She says my father isn’t funny,” Gunnar explained quickly, slapping an

understanding hand to Damon’s back and laughing a little more.

“I actually take great offense,” Euan said with a frown, crossing his arms

across his broad chest.

“It doesn’t change the fact you aren’t!” Tekla exclaimed, not the least bit

apologetic, but she did kiss her husband’s pouting lips.

“Lawd…and I thought
my
family was a trip!” Damon muttered.

Gunnar and Damon took their posts by the grill. Damon’s family had en-

tered a few minutes after Gunnar’s had, so Mrs. Wilkes and Tekla, true to her

husband’s claim, helped set up the rest of the food that wouldn’t be barbecued

and Mr. Wilkes and Euan bonded over the current baseball season. Gunnar

and Damon had exchanged few words outside of the meat. Gunnar had

prepped and seasoned it last night, too antsy to sleep even though he’d spent

the majority of the day on flights from Trondheim to Oslo to London to

Raleigh. He was nervous to come home, nervous to see
her
. Tyler. Three weeks

of not speaking to her had been horrible, but every time he thought to pick up

the phone, he didn’t think he’d be able to do anything but weep.

He hadn’t been enough to prevent Aurora from inadvertently killing her-

self, and to see Tyler in a similar state had made him feel like a failure again. To

know he’d potentially fallen short to someone who completely and totally

owned him petrified Gunnar. He didn’t go to Norway immediately after Tyler’s

accident, but when Damon had left a message on his voicemail telling him

Tyler had come to and her prognosis was excellent, Gunnar had bought the

first plane ticket to Trondheim to see his parents.

The Beauty Within

At first, Tekla and Euan had given their son space, knowing something

really awful had to have happened to bring him to Norway for an indefinitely

long vacation. However, Tekla wasn’t the type of mother to let her son mope

too long. She’d done that once after Aurora’s demise, and she would never

indulge him like that again.

“All right,” Tekla had said, coming into her son’s room right at dawn and

sitting on the edge of his bed. “Tell us about Tyler, and don’t leave anything

out.”

Gunnar had been too sleepy to ask how his mother knew who Tyler was,

but upon hindsight, he figured his sister had said something before he could.

He hadn’t answered right away, either. His eyes had stared to the ceiling

without seeing it, the vision of Tyler lying lifeless on the floor at the fore of his

mind.

“
En gang til
,
mor
,” Gunnar whispered, and when his mother put a comforting

hand to his foot and squeezed, it brought forth the tears that had been just

under the surface for days. “
En gang til
…”

Gunnar had recounted everything—from the moment Tyler had walked

into his life to the moment he’d walked out her shop days earlier. At some

point during the story, his father had entered the bedroom, and his parents had

sat side by side on the bed watching their son cry harder than they’d ever seen.

Tekla had moved from the end of the bed and crawled next to him, bringing

him into her arms. Gunnar hadn’t cared he was a thirty-five-year-old man; that

embrace had done much to soothe him.

“I thought I was able to help her,” Gunnar had muttered, wiping his eyes,

too sad and heartbroken to be ashamed of his blubbering. “I love her so much,

mor
, why can’t she love herself as much as I do?”

“It is not an immediate process,
snuppe
,” Tekla had said, “but you demoniz-

ing yourself over your inability to help her really
doesn’t
help her. You have to

believe strongly in your love.”

“I do!” Gunnar had insisted, glaring at his mother mildly. “I loved Aurora

too.”

“But Aurora didn’t love herself, Son,” Euan had said, piping up for the first

time. “And from what it sounds like, Tyler is the same way.”

“No—”

“She loves you more than she loves herself,” Tekla had said, explaining her

husband’s comment. “All of her worth is tied up in you, and that’s not helpful,

either.”

Gunnar had thought back to his conversations with Tyler, and even with

Damon, Wendy, and Quincy. Tyler was a natural giver. Her strength lay in her

generosity, and her desire to please and put people at ease many times put her

in a position to be hurt. She was unused to being the center of someone’s

world, and would do everything in her power to tweak the relationship so the

206

Savannah J. Frierson

other person would be the center of hers. And everyone in her life had allowed

her to do it.

Gunnar had liked it. He’d relished in it. In fact, he could even admit to

himself part of his speech to Quincy had less to do with Tyler and her healing

than him and his need to remain the center of Tyler’s romantic universe. He’d

wanted to be the sole sun to her orbiting planet, and she’d almost killed herself

for it. For Aurora, it had been modeling; for Tyler, it had been him.

“And that’s why you kept your Norwegian butt away all this time?” Damon

asked, grilling steaks on the grill while Gunnar handled hot dogs and ham-

burgers.

Gunnar hadn’t even realized he’d started opening up to Damon. Something

about standing in front of the grill had apparently loosened his tongue.

Nevertheless, he rolled his neck and answered his second-in-command

truthfully. “Yes.”

Damon sucked his teeth. “Man, if my mama wasn’t three feet away, I’d

poke you with this fork right in yo’ ass!”

“And I’d deserve it.”

“Ya damn skippy you would! Tyler’s been mopin’ around here for weeks

thinkin’ you don’t love her! And remember, I told you I’d fuck you up if you

fucked her up.”

“I remember.”

“So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t—after my parents leave, of

course,” Damon said, checking behind him to make sure their mothers didn’t

overhear their conversation.

“I love her,” Gunnar said.

“Sure got a funny way of showing it.”

Gunnar tensed and his eyes narrowed at the burger he’d been flipping. He

tried to fix his face to a neutral expression, but it slipped to annoyance when

he faced the owner of the voice. “Lucas.”

“Daniels,” Quincy replied, looking just as pleased to see him as Gunnar

was. “I brought the liquor,” Quincy said to Damon.

“Cool, the cooler’s by the stereo,” Damon said, pointing with the fork in the

proper direction and turning back to tend to his food. Gunnar and Quincy had

a mini standoff before Quincy walked away. Gunnar clenched his jaw and

scowled at the hot dogs.

“Don’t even go lookin’ like that,” Damon said. “He’s a decent guy.”

“He hurt Tyler.”

“So did you,” Damon reminded him, his voice suddenly icy. “But Q’s been

here helping her through it while you licked your wounds in Norway. Cut the

guy some slack.”

Talk about living in a shattered glass house. Gunnar was no better than

Quincy.

The Beauty Within

207

Speaking of, he returned to the grill and stood beside Gunnar, watching

the two men barbecue to perfection.

“Stomach’s grumblin’,” Quincy murmured.

“Hey,” Damon said, his basting brush reaching across Gunnar toward

Quincy. “No droolin’ on mah grill.”

Quincy snorted and rolled his eyes, but presented a can of beer. “Want.”

“Godsend, man,” Damon said, accepting the offering. He popped it open

and took a swig. “Yeah, man, yeah.”

Something cool touched Gunnar’s bicep, and he looked down to see anoth-

er can of beer. He met eyes with Quincy, and saw nothing but sincerity. It

made him relieved and uncomfortable at the same time. “Thanks.”

Quincy nodded but said nothing right away. He opened his own beer can

and took a sip. “Welcome back.”

Immediately Gunnar’s guard went up, but he hid it by opening his beer

and taking a large gulp. “Good to be back.”

Quincy nodded again. “Enjoy your trip?”

Gunnar took his spatula and took the finished burgers and hot dogs off the

grill and onto the aluminum-lined shelf in front of him. “It was necessary.”

“Was it also necessary not to contact Tyler at all?”

Gunnar didn’t appreciate the accusation in his tone, even if it was war-

ranted. He felt Damon’s hand on his forearm and the tension in his body eased

somewhat.

Quincy raised an eyebrow, not the least bit threatened by Gunnar, which

Gunnar thought was a mistake. “You keep claiming you’re better than I am,

and so far you’ve not proven that very well.”

“Q,” Damon said warningly.

Quincy shrugged. “She might not love me anymore, Damon, but I’m not

gonna let no one hurt her,
especially
the man she loves.”

Gunnar immediately backed away from the grill, not wanting to ruin the

meat or ram his fist into Quincy’s face. The worst part was Quincy’s point was

valid, but Gunnar didn’t like being on the receiving end of the “Treat Tyler

Right” talk, and definitely not when he deserved it.

“Oh, my
God
! Is that my baby?!”

Gunnar turned around to see a glowing Wendy walk in carrying a casse-

role dish. Mrs. Wilkes went to her and took the dish out of her hands, giving it

to her husband who had approached and kissed Wendy’s cheek. Damon

passed Gunnar and waited patiently behind his mother so he could hold his

fiancée, while Gunnar waited not quite as patiently to see his woman.

Hopefully, Tyler still considered herself his woman.

Quincy made his way to the glass door, drawing up Gunnar’s guard. He

saw brown arms come around Quincy’s waist, and Gunnar’s heart plummeted

into his stomach.

“What? No hug?”

208

Savannah J. Frierson

Wendy was coming toward him, Damon staring at her with a look of such

devotion. Gunnar gave her a genuine grin and granted her request.

“Hello,” Gunnar said quietly.

“I should hurt you,” Wendy muttered into his chest.

“I do deserve it.”

“But I’ll save those honors for Tyler,” Wendy said, pulling back and scowl-

ing at him. “No phone call?”

“No excuse,” Gunnar admitted, bowing his head.

“At least you know that, some of my regard for you has returned, but only a

little bit, about the size of an ant.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s how Tyler’s been feeling since you dropped off the face of the earth

in Norway!”

Gunnar glanced to the side to see his mother giving a look of agreement to

Wendy’s words.

There was nothing he could say to Wendy, at least in this setting, that was

appropriate, but in the end, he didn’t owe answers to her. He owed them to

Tyler.

But it was hard to say anything when the sight of her hair free about her

head and shoulders wearing a deep red halter and a denim skirt made him

breathless. And when she pinned those eyes on him, all he wanted to do was

get on his knees before her and beg for forgiveness.

How could he have stayed away from her for so long?

Twenty

Did it bother Gunnar that Tyler’s arm tightened around Quincy’s waist

when they finally made eye contact? Absolutely, but he knew he didn’t have

the right to get angry. They’d had a history long before he’d entered her life;

and given the past few weeks, their relationship had clearly reformed.

But into what?

Gunnar saw his mother approaching in his peripheral vision, and he ma-

naged to tear his eyes away from Tyler to greet her.

“Is that she?” Tekla asked, looking right at Tyler. Gunnar nodded. “She is

stunning.”

“Breathtaking,” Gunnar said.

“Introduce me to my future daughter-in-law,” Tekla demanded, hooking

her arm through her son’s and looking at him with a twinkling eye.

Gunnar grinned and kissed her mother’s cheek. “
Jeg er glad i deg
.”

“I know,” Tekla said, and guided her son to Tyler. “Hello, Tyler? I’m Tekla,

Gunnar’s mother.”

Tyler’s eyes widened and she stepped back a little. Gunnar frowned, won-

dering why she appeared so frightened, but when she turned around and held

out her hand, he saw a woman who looked like an older version of Wendy

grasp it.

“Oh,” Gunnar murmured.

“Irony of ironies,” Tyler said with a small smile. “Gunnar, Mrs. Daniels, I’d

like for you to meet
my
mother Carmen Colón Carver.”

“
Hola
,” Mrs. Carver said with a timid smile and she nodded her head. “Hel-

lo.”

“
Hola
,” Tekla returned. “¿
Cómo está usted
?”

“
Estoy muy bien
, ¿
Y usted
?”

“
Estoy perfecta
,
muchas gracias
.”