Before I can stop myself, I’m closing the distance between us. I let out a sob as I fling my arms around his neck and press myself against him, crying into his naked shoulder. His hand holding the bag of pistachios gets pinned between us with a soft crunch. He goes stiff, muttering something in Finnish. I don’t know which he’s hating worse: the hug or the tears. “What the fuck did you do?” Jake cries at his partner. “Nothing,” says Ilmari, wholly indignant as he awkwardly pats my shoulder. “Well, she was fine until you got here,” Jake challenges. He leans in closer to me, his hand on my other
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