Forever Wild (Wild 2.50)

It comes almost immediately while taking his first sip.

“I’ve mentioned this to Calla before but, with guests spread out from Alaska to Norway, it would make far more sense to choose a central location for the wedding. Like Toronto. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Astrid’s brow furrows. “I suppose so.”

“See, kids?” Mom smiles triumphantly.

“Mom …” I warn. She’s pushing too hard.

“Or they could get married in Oslo,” Astrid counters, flipping through pages of wedding dresses. “Right, vennen?” I note the edge of challenge in her tone. Is she suggesting this because it’s what she’d prefer, or because she suddenly feels the need to have an equal voice in her only son’s wedding?

“I don’t think …” My mom’s brow furrows. She wasn’t expecting that answer. “Well, I guess it’ll be easier to figure out once they choose a date and we draft a guest list. See where the majority of people are located. Agreed?”

Astrid nods slowly. “That sounds prudent.”

I meet Jonah’s gaze and find him smirking. We both know that no matter how many names Astrid produces, my mother will double that number and they’ll all be Toronto based.

And all of this is a moot point because neither of them is deciding where Jonah and I are getting married!

“You know, there’s a way to avoid all this,” he reminds me. He must see the ire in my eyes.

“It’s tempting at the moment,” I admit.

“What’s tempting?” my mother asks.

“Nothing,” Jonah and I say in unison.

Simon holds out an extra crispy slice of bacon with a set of tongs for me. “I think you and Jonah should decide what’s best for you,

and we will help make that happen. Right, Susan?”

If he feels her scathing glare at his back, he ignores it, smiling wide at us.

“Thank you—hey!” I squeal as Jonah intercepts the piece. I snatch it from his grasp with a glower, earning his playful grin.

“Is my coffee ready?” Björn hollers from the living room.

That playful grin evaporates instantly. Jonah opens his mouth—no doubt to offer a confrontational retort.

I shove the slice of bacon into his mouth to shut him up, capping it off with a finger waggle of warning.

“Here, I’ll take that.” Astrid holds out her hands to collect Björn’s mug from me.

“Calla, where did you say those eggs were?” Simon holds out an open carton with only one egg inside.

“Bottom shelf. I bought two dozen on Friday.”

“Oh, I used those,” Astrid says, setting Björn’s coffee on the table beside him before patting his shoulder with affection.

“All of them?”

“Well, yes. The Kvæfjordkake and Karamellpudding alone take a dozen eggs. The risengrynsgrøt doesn’t have any, but then there’s the …” Astrid names several dishes I can’t interpret, leaving Simon to scratch his chin as he studies the pans on the stove and the lonely egg.

I sigh. “I’ll run over to Roy’s and see if I can get a few more from him.”

“I don’t want you to go to all that trouble—”

“It’s just down the road. Ten minutes at most. No big deal.” Normally, it wouldn’t be. Who knows what kind of reception I’ll get after our fight the other night.