Page 130 of Pucking Strong

“So … we should do away with that rule too? In English and Swedish?”

“I think it would be best.”

“And the kissing rule?”

He considers. “I meant what I said before. I want to take my time with you. Nothing needs to be rushed. Can it be enough? Can my vow to you be enough? A vow to try?”

Here we come to it. What if he tries and he doesn’t like it? What if all I ever get are a fewreallygood kisses? Can it be enough for me? Can I accept him for who he is and love him in whatever capacity he’ll allow?

I take a deep breath and let it out. “I have one more new rule.”

He tenses. “Name it.”

I place a hand on his shoulder, mooring us together with a more platonic, familiar kind of touch. “No sex in the bed.”

His brow furrows as I’m sure he’s second-guessing his own translation. “What?”

“I mean it, Henrik.” I push him until he’s rocked back on hisankles and I’m fully sitting up. “The bed we share is not for sex. That has to stay sacred. Because, regardless of whatever else happens, I have to stay here. For Karro, for the custody review. And the bed is where we sleep. It’s whereyousleep,” I add more gently. “I won’t rob you of your safe space. So … no wanting me in the bed. Agreed?”

He considers for a moment. “Agreed. Thank you, Teddy.”

“But the others go,” I repeat. “The no-kissing one, and the no sleeping in my bed, and the no saying husbands in English and Swedish.” I tick them off on my fingers. “But I still want to pay rent.”

He groans.

“I’m serious, Hen. I have to have some small feeling of autonomy here. Either accept my money, or I’ll start gettingrealcreative with the shit I buy for the apartment. Ever heard of Dadaism?”

Using my knees, he pushes up from the floor and rises to his feet. Bending over, he brushes a kiss to the top of my head. “Keep your money, mitt hjärta. I am not afraid of your ire. Besides, a print ofjeune homme triste dans un trainwould look wonderful next to Karolina’s retrospective on rainbow unicorns.” He leaves me there, clicking off one of the lamps as he walks away.

Did that gorgeous professional hockey player just weave English, French, and Swedish into a clever comeback about Dadaism?

Well, if I wasn’t already in love with my not-so-fake husband, I am now.

Rising from the couch, I click off the other lamp and follow him to bed.

“Stop fidgeting,” I mutter.

“I’m not fidgeting.” Next to me, Teddy tugs at the collar of his sweater again. My lips purse, and he curses under his breath. “Fucking stop, alright? Just let me fidget.”

Cheryl, our representative from the child welfare office, finishes her phone call, turning back to face us. She’s a middle-aged white lady with greying hair cut in a blunt bob. “So sorry about that. Never a dull moment, as they say.”

“Oh, that’s totally fine,” says Teddy.

She checks her notes on her tablet. “So, you were walking me through her daily routine.”

“Yes.” He drops my hand and sweeps forward, gesturing all around the living room as he shows her Karolina’s art wall and craft station. He’s talking fast, clearly nervous. “And this has all been great for retaining her fine motor skills. Once her arm cast comes off in a couple weeks, we’ll be starting on the manipulatives, like molder’s clay.”

Cheryl nods, taking notes.

Teddy takes her on the grand tour, leading her down to Karolina’s room and showing her the modifications we made to ease her care, like the adjustable bed and the child monitors. “And she sleeps a solid six hours every night,” he goes on. “Sometimes it’s closer to eight. But she really does come by it naturally. Henrik is a light sleeper too. He only needs, like, four hours, and he’s good to goplay professional hockey. So, I think we’re doing pretty good if we balance out at an even seven—”

I take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Breathe.”

He huffs out a breath, and Cheryl gives him a consoling look. “You’re doing great.”

He groans, cheeks blooming pink with embarrassment.

“I know this can all feel stressful,” she goes on. “My job here is just to listen, observe, and document. I’m not making any judgments. And I’m not here with any agenda, other than assuring the welfare of a child.” She holds up her tablet. “Do you mind if I take some photos?”

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