Page 92 of Meant for Mayhem

The words felt clunky on my tongue, but better than they had when I started this a few weeks ago. Part of me wondered if Leena’s speech delay was tied to growing up bilingual—Mikko had never said whether Ava spoke Finnish or English to her. Maybe he didn’t even know. But kids were far more adaptable to language than adults, and I wanted to help her find her voice, no matter what language it was in.

“Sinä olet hauska,” I repeated.

“You’re right, I am funny,” Mikko said from outside the doorway.

I jumped, my hand clenched over my heart. “Oh my god, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”

But the grin on his face didn’t look sorry.

I squinted. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to hear your Finnish lessons.” He pointed at my phone. “Is that for me?”

“For Leena,” I clarified, but Mikko only grinned harder. “I wasn’t sure which language she understood.”

“So you’re learning a new one.”

“It’s not new.” I adjusted my messy bun, then walked toward the bed. “It’s new to me.”

Mikko brushed a hand along his jaw, like he was trying to wipe the grin off his face. Before he could say anything else, I noticed the pizza boxes on the dresser.

“For me?” I pointed at the boxes.

He shrugged, then grabbed the two boxes and sat on the bed. “It felt wrong to be in New York and not have pizza.”

I grinned, then sat on the bed next to him. Once I was settled, he opened the top box, this one full of toppings. I lifted the lid on the second box, grinning wider when I saw plain cheese waiting for me.

“You got me a pizza.”

Mikko said nothing, handing me a paper plate and pulling a slice out for me. The cheese stretched, looking a little greasy and delicious. “Have as much as you like.”

I took a bite, savoring the garlicky, cheesy goodness, while watching him out of the corner of my eye.

Mikko served himself after I took my first bite, taking a slice of his own pizza.

“Do you even know what all of those toppings are?” I asked, inspecting his pizza. Peppers, onions, mushrooms, sausage, and pepperoni I recognized, but there were other ingredients on there I’d never seen before, as well as a little sauce packet I was confused by.

“It was their menu special. Figured if it’s what they sell the most of, it must be good.”

I leaned over to look closer, and Mikko pushed the box toward me. “Want to try it?”

“Not really.”

He laughed, then finished his first slice and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Fair. You know what you like.”

It seemed silly to appreciate that he didn’t push me on something so trivial, but I realized that was exactly who Mikko was. Sure, there was an undercurrent beneath the surface full of anxiety and vulnerability, but on the surface Mikko was deeply thoughtful and good to his core.

I liked cheese pizza, and maybe I liked him too.

“Is this your favorite food?” Mikko asked when he put another piece on my plate.

“I don’t know about favorite, but I love it.”

“Is there a story behind that?”

Maybe on another day I would have said no, but I couldn’t help but notice all the ways Mikko opened up his life and heart to me. After my conversations with Walt and Lori, maybe it was time I did the same.