Page 63 of Pucking Strong

Henrik’s eyes are wide now. “They’ll ask us about that?”

Poppy shrugs. “Probably. But when in doubt, deflect. There’s nothing wrong with saying you want to keep parts of the story private. Now, I’m taking care of things on my end to create a convincing narrative of your shared past. I want the two of you more focused on the present, which is selling the lie.”

“Which lie?” Henrik asks.

“The lie that you’re a happily married gay couple.” She clicks to the next slide, which features a very phallic-looking tree trunk. “Like our friend, the mighty oak, you two must now share one strong, united front. You are married, and you must appear so to the public—” She pauses when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Hey-o,” Novy calls out, opening the door. “Special delivery for my queen. Rush order, as requested.” He holds up a little black bag stuffed with white paper. The name of a jewelry store flashes on the side in shiny silver letters, and my heart fucking stops. I know exactly what’s in that bag.

Poppy’s eyes light up. “Oh, thank you, honey.”

“Anything for my love.” He sets the little bag down on the table.

“Your timing is literally perfect,” she coos, looking up at him like he invented attraction.

Novy bends over her chair, giving her a very PG-13 kiss thatleaves her breathless. Then he’s brandishing a coffee with a flourish. “I also brought you a decaf pecan latte with extra whip.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” She takes the coffee and another kiss.

“Oh god.” The words escape me as I swipe my own coffee off the table.

Next to me, Henrik grunts his agreement.

Novy is still leaning over Poppy as he turns to me. “You got a problem there, bud?”

“I think it’s just seeing you being so sweet to another person. It sorta feels like watching an alligator play the clarinet.”

“It’s unsettling,” Henrik mutters.

“Right?” I jab my thumb at him. “What he said. Unsettling is a good word.”

Novy just straightens with a smirk. “Well, get used to it, assholes. So long as my girl is pregnant, she gets whatever she wants from me. She could tell me to dance naked on this table, and I’d fucking do it.”

Poppy pats his arm. “That won’t be necessary, honey.”

“What’s that?” Henrik nods to the little black bag. It’s like we both already know, and he clearly wants to get it over with. Which makes me feel fan-fucking-tastic.

“Oh—” Poppy takes a sip of her iced latte before setting it aside. “I’m so glad you asked.” Reaching for the bag, she pulls out the tissue with a flourish. “Now, we can get these resized if needed, but I hope they’ll do the trick.” She pulls out two black ring boxes. “One for you,” she sings at Henrik. “And one for you, Teddy, honey.”

I feel like a robot as I mechanically reach out my hand and take the box from her.

Henrik opens his box and pulls out a shiny gold wedding band. “Is this really necessary?”

“It’s customary for married couples to wear rings as proof of their status,” Poppy replies. “Even in Sweden—and yes, I checked. In your case, it really is a PR necessity.” Then she glances between us, smiling brightly. “Well? Try them on. Let’s see.”

With a sigh, I open my box. A shiny gold wedding band sits tucked in a bed of black velvet. At least this one doesn’t carry over a hundred years of Karlsson family history.

Henrik turns to me, ring lying flat in his palm. “Is this acceptable to you? I don’t want to break any rules …”

He’s right. We have a lot of rules in this fake marriage. There’s the “no saying husband” rule. And the “no kissing” rule. Then there’s the “I pay him rent” rule. We haven’t actually discussed the terms of that one yet. His “I sleep in his room” rule is working out great for me so far. But we don’t have a “no wedding rings” rule. Not technically. I just told him I wouldn’t wear his mother’s cursed ring.

“No, it’s fine,” I say. But then I hesitate, glancing his way. “Areyoufine?”

With a nod, he slips the ring on his left hand, closing his fist around the glint of gold. He’s still wearing the cursed ring on his right pinkie.

“Well?” Poppy says with a smile.

“It fits,” Henrik replies.

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