Page 35 of Pucking Strong

“Yes!” He spins around, eyes blazing. In this moment, he’s the personification of a volcano as he stares me down, hands fisted at his sides. “Of course this is dramatic. BecauseI’mdramatic!” He splays a hand over his chest. “Which you would know, if you knew me at all!”

“You drink oat milk lattes!”

His breath leaves him in a huff as he stares me down. “What?”

I don’t know where that came from either. But it’s said now, and he’s no longer running away from me. Cars whip past as I jog along the guardrail, closing the distance between us. A fine mist hangs in the air, remnants of this morning’s rainstorm. “From the coffee cart,” I say on a breath. “At the practice arena. You order iced oat milk lattes with a double shot of espresso. And you prefer window seats to aisle seats on airplanes.”

His eyes narrow at me. “Is that all you know about me? My coffee order and my seat preference?”

My feet crunch on the fine gravel as I stop in front of him, mind racing to come up with more. “Your favorite Disney princess is Moana.” I listened to him compare all the princesses with Karro a few days ago. “And you snore.”

“Fuck you, I don’t snore.”

My mouth twitches with a smile. “You do. That’s something only a friend would know, right? Not just a colleague or a passing acquaintance.” I hold his gaze, daring him to look away. “That’s four things, not three. And I could keep going. I’m your friend, Teddy. Iwantto be your friend. And I need you to stay. I need you in this with me. So, tell me what you need. What do we do to make this work for you? You want rules? Set them. I’ll do anything you ask.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he levels his stare at me, the fire cooling in his eyes. “You can’t call me your husband.”

I lean away, surprised at this first request. “But in the car, you just said—”

“Ever,” he says over me. “You can’t call me your husband ever. Swear it.”

“I swear,” I assure him. “What am I to call you then?”

He thinks for a moment. “You can call me your partner.”

I nod again. “It’s done.”

“Am I moving in with you?”

Christ. I’ve made so many choices this week. Impossible choices. Before this exact moment, the logistics of them all were merely hypothetical. For days now, I’ve felt like that scared seven-year-old boy who fell through a crack in the ice. I was treading dark water inheavy skates, kicking for the surface. I saw Teddy’s hand as a lifeline, a way out, so I grabbed on.

But he’s not pulling me out. I’m pulling him under. It’s been one day, and we’re already standing on the side of the road shouting at each other. And I deserve all his anger, all his confusion, becauseIdid this. I grabbed his hand and pulled him under, and now we’ll sink or swim together.

I’m so frustrated. And ashamed. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I rock on my heels, feeling too guilty to look at him. “I suppose you’ll have to, won’t you? I’ll need you in the home to help me with Karro.”

He crosses his arms. “Then I need my own room.”

“Done. My apartment has three bedrooms. We’ll each have our own room. You’ll take mine for the duration of your stay. It’s larger.”

“I’m not taking your room—”

“You will,” I say over him. “I insist. We’ll call that one my rule. Just as I insist that you continue to live your life. I will do whatever is needed for this to have as little of an impact on you as possible.”

His eyes narrow again. “Live my life? What, like you want me to go out and date other men? Want me to fuck them too? Maybe bring them back to the apartment? What size bed am I working with in your room?”

As I picture him leading a strange man through my house, my chest suddenly feels tight. I’m a private person by nature, and I don’t like sharing my spaces with anyone. I grimace, hands fisted in my pockets. “No men in the apartment. I won’t have that upsetting Karro or her routines. But you’re free to do whatever you want outside of my home with friends or family or … whomever. But keep it private. We must maintain a public image of …”

“Fidelity?”

I sigh, knowing he’s trying to bait me again. “No romantic partners in the apartment. For either of us.”

“Done.”

My frustration settles a little. “Anything else?”

He considers. “I want to pay you rent.”

“Out of the question.”

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