Page 134 of Pucking Strong

Henrik shoots me a sidelong glance before accepting the empty seat by Novy.

Okay, fine. We’re a little late, and it’s all my fault. And, yes, I know how much Henrik hates being late. Like,hatehates it. But he’s married to me now, so he’ll have to just deal with it.

I take the only remaining seat at the end of the table.

“Help yourself.” Jake passes us a basket of edamame and some chicken skewers.

Mars quietly slides over two sharing plates while Novy waves his arm to catch the waiter’s attention.

“Sorry we’re late,” I offer in greeting. “My fault.”

“No big deal,” says Jake. “Just gave us time to gossip about you before you got here.”

I smile nervously, accepting a plate of beef-wrapped asparagus bites. “Oh, yeah? What’s the gossip?”

Caleb shoots Jake a glare, and Jake snatches up his beer and takes a sip. Morrow covers for him, gesturing to the baskets of food. “Everyone, dig in.”

“Oh—here’s the waiter,” says Novy. “Hey, Kiko. We’ve got two more here.”

Henrik and I give Kiko our drink orders, and Jake orders four more dishes for the table to share. He rattles off the Japanese like a pro, adding, “I made Amy highlight everything on the menu she knew we’d like.”

I almost forgot he had a sister. I saw her once, the night the Prices got married in L.A. She flew over from Japan for it. She does something cool with engineering, like robotics or space or something. I was too starstruck being in Hal Price’s house to dare try to chat with her. But I got to touch a Grammy that night. And I saw Al Pacino.

The guys settle into an easy rhythm with each other, picking up their conversation from before we arrived. They practically share a hive mind, finishing each other’s sentences and starting a new topic midstream that has them all laughing and pointing at each other. I try to follow along, but a lot of the conversation is hockey jargon. They’re talking about trades, and the draft, and stats that go way above my head. I’ve learned to like hockey over the years, but I’m no expert. And Henrik does nothing to help me. He just sinks into a sort of stupor, drinking his beer, eating his food, and passing things around to the others while they talk.

After about twenty minutes of this, the waiter brings over a fresh round of drinks, trading out some of the empty baskets for more delicious bar snacks. As the guys all dig into the new dishes, divvying them onto the sharing plates, Jake leans down the table. “So, Karlsson, how’s the kid?”

“She’s well,” Henrik replies, passing a plate of fried tofu across to Mars.

The table waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Cool,” says Jake.

Novy and Morrow snort into their beers, and Caleb elbows Jake in the ribs.

“Ow—what?” Jake glares at his husband. “Poppy said we had to ask him a question. I asked him a question.”

I glance around the table. “What am I missing?”

Novy slings his arm around Henrik’s shoulders. “Oh, Poppy just said we have to try to draw Karlsson out of his shell tonight. But we all know there’s no cracking open this clam.”

“Yeah, some leopards just don’t change their spots,” says Jake, popping a piece of chicken karaage into his mouth. “Which is totally cool,” he adds at Henrik. “You know we love a strong, silent type. Hell, I’m married to one.” He jabs his thumb around Caleb at Mars.

Henrik just smiles good-naturedly, sipping his beer.

The conversation turns to fantasy football, but I’m stuck thinking about what Jake said. Didn’t I used to think the same thing about Henrik? Now that I know him so much better, it’s easy to see all the ways he’s willing to change. He twisted his life inside out to make room for Karolina. He’s made changes for me too. He’s not so prickly about me making him something other than overnight oats for breakfast anymore. He shares his closet, his bed, his coveted bathtub.

Not, like, at the same time. It’s definitely big enough, but you know … not that.

Not yet.

God, Teddy, get a fucking grip.

I wrap both hands around my beer glass, staring down at the amber liquid. It was unfair of me to judge him then, just as it’s unfair of his teammates to dismiss him now.

The topic has switched to football and Novy and Jake are arguing over a quarterback trade when I hear myself say, “Henrik and I talk all the time.”

The table quiets, all eyes glancing my way.

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