Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

by Emily Rath

“Hey, do you have any photo albums, Mrs. K? I’d love to see a picture of Henrik in lederhosen.” I lean over him, stealing a cube of carrot from the bowl. “Lederhosen are German.” Mom turns in her chair. “Oh, but we have that fine picture of you and your sister from Midsummer, Henrik. Fetch it for me. He’s wearing the jolliest little hat with blue and yellow ribbons.” Teddy laughs. “God, is there anything better than a jolly hat?”

As I drove to the airport that first night, the idea entered my mind to jerk the wheel into the wall and end it all. There’s no pain when you’re dead. No grief. But then I thought of Karolina alone in a hospital, needing me. I thought of my parents, mourning the loss of both their children. And I thought of Teddy, waiting for me on the tarmac. He thinks this can work. He’s stressed and worried, but he’s here. He’s fighting for Karolina. He’s fighting for me. Even now, he’s inside, comforting my mother as her fragile mind fights to protect her from the truth that her daughter is gone. I’m going to fight for him. I’m going to protect him from any backlash this might bring.

I’m about to open the door to the shed when I spy movement. I relax when I see who it is. Teddy is sitting in Petra’s favorite cushioned deck chair. He has a sweatshirt on with the hood pulled up against the cold. In the glow of the dock light, I see the glint of something in his palm. “Hej,” I call out. He jumps, closing his fist tight. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He makes no reply. Dropping my bag by the door, I sink into the empty chair. “And I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.” “Warn me about what?” “About my mother. About her dementia. I should have told you.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah . . . why didn’t you?”

“It’s hard for me to talk about it. Hard for me to admit how bad it’s getting, even to myself.” I turn to look at him. “But I want to thank you.”

Opening his fist again, he looks at the object in his hand. “What’s that?” “It’s your mother’s wedding ring.” I take in the shape of the thin gold ring. “Why do you have it?” His frown deepens. “She gave it to me. Called it a wedding present. She said it’s been worn by a Karlsson for over a hundred years.” He offers it to me, and I lean away. “What are you doing?” “Take it.” “I can’t take it.” “Henrik, take it.” I shake my head. “She gave it to you. It was a gift.” He scoffs. “Yeah, for your loving husband, your heart’s fire, mate of your fucking soul. She practically recited an epic poem as she worked it off her finger. This ring sounds magical, Henrik. And our marriage is totally fake. I put this on, and your ancestors will know. They’ll smite me. They’ll drown me in the lake. No fucking thanks.” “Teddy . . .” “No, I’m not putting it on.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” He shrugs. “Wear it on a chain? Wait and give it to Karolina? Or just save it for a partner you actually love, cherish, and adore.”

Teddy’s gaze locks on the far wall of the shed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I glance around, looking for the source of his displeasure. “What’s wrong?” He points. “There’s only one bed.” I shrug. “I told you it was a tight fit.” Groaning, he rubs two fingers at his temple. “Okay, you’re gonna have to stop saying the words ‘tight fit’ to me, like, yesterday.” “What?” “There’s only one bed, Henrik. A very small, practically twin-sized bed. If I’m on the bed, where are you gonna sleep? I don’t see a couch in here.” He does a half pivot, as if certain he must have missed part of the shed. He points to the door in the corner. “Where does that lead?” I fight a smile. “That’s the toilet. Would you prefer one of us sleep in there? Perhaps we could flip for it.”

“It’s just for one night. Have you never shared a bed before?” He crosses his arms. “Yeah, of course. With my sisters. Not my—” I glance up, boot in hand. “Your what?” He holds my gaze, his eyes reflecting the bright flames of the fire. “Not with you.”

“If it’s really a problem for you, I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He huffs, tugging his sweatshirt off. “Seriously? You’re an NHL superstar who’s a week out from the start of a new season. We’re not messing up your joints or your alignment by making you sleep on a wooden fucking floor. You take the bed. I’ll just take a blanket and go sleep in the chair out on the dock.”

“You’re not sleeping on the dock.” He slips past me, heading for the bed. “Why not? I like nature.” Taking my chance, I move to the door and lock it. “Hey—” I turn around, pressing my back against the locked door. Teddy stands across the shed, the bed’s quilt bundled in his arms. “You can’t keep me trapped in here, you psycho.” “I can, and I will.” “Henrik—” “You’re not sleeping on a goddamn deck chair, exposed to the elements. Not when we have a perfectly good bed, and a fire, and a door that locks.”

Undoing the buckle of my belt, I drop my jeans to the floor and step out of them. I fold and place them next to his neat pile of clothes. “Do you mind if I take off my shirt?” His eyes go wide. “What?” “I prefer fewer layers when I sleep.” He blinks, then looks quickly away. “I . . . no. That’s . . . nope. Do your thing.”

I think by American measurement standards, you’d call this bed full-sized, not twin. But I’m a 6’0” professional hockey player, and Teddy also has an athlete’s long, toned body. We’re going to be stacked together like sardines in a tin. He grunts, shifting his weight to adjust his pillow. “There’s really no extra bedroom up at the main house?” I sink down next to him, resting with my back against the wall, legs stretched out atop the quilt. “They converted Petra’s old room into a sewing room when she moved to the city for university. And my room was in the attic. It’s mostly storage now. They keep a child-sized bed in there for Karro.”

Tension buzzes around Teddy like a hive of bees. Meanwhile, I’m only pretending to read the stats on this Swedish hockey site. I hate that he’s still so uncomfortable around me. He didn’t seem this anxious when we were in my apartment in Stockholm. We were alone then too. We sat on the couch together, just like this. We watched TV and ate takeout curry. He stole my egg rolls. It was comfortable . . . or so I thought. What’s changed?

“Henrik—hey—wake up, man.” I shake his shoulder, trying to wake him. Fuck, he’s drenched in sweat. He thrashes again, groaning in his sleep. I was actually having a good dream until he kneed me in the hip, jolting me awake. Now I’m pressed against the wall while he cries out, flailing like he’s drowning on dry land. “Henrik, come on,” I say, louder this time, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him down. “Wake up.” I know the moment he finally wakes, because all the fight goes out of him like a robot powering down. He groans, his naked chest heaving for breath. But the second he feels me hovering over him, he gasps and tries to sit up. Cursing in Swedish, he frantically pulls away. “Whoa, whoa—hey, it’s just me. It’s Teddy.” “Teddy?” He’s clearly still confused. “I—what happened?”

He presses a hand to his chest. “I couldn’t breathe.” “It was just a dream.” Still panting, he looks my way. “Did I hurt you?” “No,” I assure him, even though my hip is throbbing. The man has iron kneecaps. He groans again, stretching an arm over his head to better catch his breath. “It always feels so real.” His voice sounds haunted. Is this just about his sister? What other demons does he carry? I lie back down on my side, tucking my arm under my pillow. “Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes that helps.” He goes still as he considers. “No.” It’s hard not to take that as rejection. “You’ve been having nightmares all week. Is that common for you?” He sighs, cracking the knuckles in his fingers with a practiced flex of his hands. “No.” “You’ve been dreaming of the car accident with your sister.” “Yes.”

“This was a mistake.” I prop up on my elbow. “What, getting married? Yeah, I’ve been saying that since we left the freaking chapel.” His breath leaves him on a tired sigh. “No, it was a mistake to come here. To stay here.” “What do you mean?” He looks around the dark room. “Petra liked doing renovation projects. This shed was one. She turned this into an apartment for whenever we visited my parents.”

“She was the last one to stay here.” “How do you know?” Surprising me, he sucks in a sharp breath that catches in his throat like a sob. “Gud, hjälpe mig.” “Henrik?” “The bed linens still smell like her.”

My hands reach for Henrik on instinct as he rolls to his side, his body going tense as he finally breaks. In the week since Petra’s death, he’s been holding it all together. He had that one moment of raw emotion in the locker room, but since then he’s been bottled up tight. At first, I thought it was just a stoic Swedish thing, or maybe the macho, straight man, no-crying thing. But I think Henrik is actually just a master at compartmentalization. He hasn’t let himself feel his sister’s loss because there have been too many other things to do.

I pull him to me, wrapping my arms around him as he cries. “It’s okay. You just feel it all.” His arm bands around my waist as he buries his face against my chest. I feel the heat of his breath as he pants for air, his fingers fisted tight into the back of my shirt. Shifting my weight, I roll us until I can unpin his left arm. Our legs snake together, and he’s practically on top of me. “She’s dead,” he groans against my collarbone, his tears wetting my shirt. I brush my fingers through his soft hair, sweeping the honey-nut strands back from his face. “I know.” His arms tighten around me as his hands grip my back. “I’ll never see her again.”

He shifts until just the side of his face is pressed against my chest. Then he sniffs, trying to choke back his tears. “God, I’m so angry.” My fingers stroke lightly down the vertebra of his neck. “I know.” He groans again, clinging to me hard enough to crack my ribs. “Be angry all you want. I’ve got you.” But after those three confessions, he’s silent except for the sound of his muted crying. I don’t know how long we stay like that, limbs twisted together. I stroke his hair, his back, humming under my breath as he grieves. Even once he’s calm, he doesn’t pull away. He lets me hold him, lets me comfort him.

“She sounds amazing.” “She was.” Reaching over, I take his hand. “I’m sorry I never got the chance to meet her.” He squeezes my hand. “She would have liked you.” His words send my nerves buzzing in my chest. “Why do you say that?” “Because she would have seen in you the same thing I see.” “And what do you see?” Even in the dark, I know he’s looking at me. I feel the weight of his full attention, the deep anchoring of his soul behind his eyes. “Ett rent hjärta,” he whispers in Swedish.

A pure heart

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Henrik Karlsson walk off a plane wearing a tailored three-piece suit. Fuck me, that’s what I want: Swedish Henrik and game-day fit Henrik. I’ll spread one on toast and down the other like a shot.

Things have been tense since we got back to the city this morning. We made a quick stop at the apartment to change our clothes (cue the cable-knit sweater moment). Then, almost as soon as we walked through the hospital doors, Henrik was alerted that Karolina is getting discharged today.

I’m about to blow more bubbles for Karolina when he pokes his head in the room. “Teddy, come.” Heart in my throat, I leave the bubbles on the bedside table. “No,” Karolina cries. “We’ll be just outside the door, honey.” Ducking into the hallway, I stop, eyes wide. Elin Ågren is standing next to Henrik. She looks as severe as ever.

I glance between them. “What’s going on?” Henrik glares at her. “She wouldn’t tell me until I called for you.” “As your legal partner, this news concerns him as well,” she replies coolly. My heart skips a beat as I grab Henrik’s hand. “Oh god, did the judge decide already?” Elin nods. “Given the unconventional circumstances of your case, we managed to get the decision expedited. The welfare court ruled this morning.” I squeeze Henrik’s hand tight, sending up every good thought and prayer to the high heavens. “Just tell us.” She spares us the torture of more waiting. “You were both awarded temporary custody of Karolina Karlsson.” All the air leaves my chest on a sharp exhale. “Oh, thank god.” I grab his arm, even as I keep squeezing his hand. “Hen, you did it. You won.”

Then he looks to me, tears in his eyes. “I really thought I was going to lose her.” I wrap my arm around his waist, keeping him from sinking to the floor. “She’s yours,” I assure him. “She’s coming home with you.” “I’ve emailed you the judge’s ruling,” Elin goes on. “And I have a copy here that you both must sign.” I go still. “Wait, I have to sign something?” Elin levels her icy-blue stare at me. “Of course. Henrik’s temporary custody is conditional. You are now part of those conditions.”

“I told you to consider carefully what you were doing,” she replies. “The judge only approved this because of you, Teddy. She appreciated your expertise in injury rehabilitation and your record of working with children.” Henrik stiffens. “I don’t understand. Is the court awarding custody of Karolina to me or to Teddy?” Elin purses her lips. “They’re awarding custody to both of you. As legal partners, you will share the duties of raising this child, will you not? You will both be her surrogate fathers. And this is only temporary. You’ll have to complete the adoption process before the court will consider making it permanent.”

“You see now the seriousness of your situation. This isn’t a game. There is no winning. There is only Karolina and what’s best for her. The two of you now hold the fate of a young girl in your hands. Henrik, so long as you’re playing professional hockey, traveling as much as you do, the court’s opinion is clear: If Teddy walks away, they’ll likely reconsider your custody. For now, as her next of kin, you are approved as her temporary guardian, contingent on Teddy living in the home to assist with her rehabilitation.” Oh, fucking fuck. This cannot be happening. I’m now the glue of this whole operation? “The court has further ordered that your offseasons be spent here in Sweden,” she goes on. “This is to ensure that there is no detrimental loss of culture or language for Karolina. Will you agree to this term?” Henrik nods. “Of course. I always come home for the summers anyway. Christmas too, if I can manage it.” Where the hell does that leave me? Am I now committing to spending all my summers in Sweden until Karolina turns eighteen? I have a job. I have sisters and niblets and friends.

“Where am I allowed to completely lose my shit? Point me in that direction, because I am officially losing it.” “Hey,” he says again, his free hand cupping my face. “Look at me.” “Your lawyer is a jerk—” “Don’t look at her. Look at me.” My chest heaves as I let myself look at him. Fuck, I could lose myself in the blue of his eyes. “She doesn’t matter.” He turns us so my back is to her. “Nothing else matters. Not the lawyers or the coaches, the agents, the doctors. Let them all fade away. At the end of the day, this is about you, me, and Karolina. Together, we will find a way to make this work. I swear it to you, Teddy. I will not fail you in this. One step at a time, right? Those were your words.”

“How can you put so much faith in me? You hardly know me.” Without hesitation, he splays his hand over my heart. “Rent hjärta, remember? I trust this.” With his free hand, he grabs my wrist, the pen dropping to the floor, and presses my palm to his chest. I flex my fingers, feeling the beating of his heart. “Do you trust me, Teddy? Do you trust my heart as I trust yours?”

“What are all those people doing here?” Teddy peers out the window and smiles. “Looks like we’ve got a welcoming committee.” “A what?” I look closer, and some of my tension eases. My mind immediately went to this being some kind of media scrum. We get those on game days, especially during the playoffs. I wasn’t about to bring Karolina down in a wheelchair to the flash of a bunch of sports reporters’ cameras. But the people aren’t reporters; it’s my team.

“Look, honey.” Teddy points out the window, helping Karolina sit up. We have to be careful with her cracked ribs. None of them are misplaced, but she’s still not meant to do any twisting or bending for a few more weeks. “See all the signs they made for you? Look at all that glitter. It’s like a parade for a princess, right?” She smiles even as I sense her flash of nerves. Teddy talks quietly, pointing to the kids in the crowd, telling her their names. His words from the other day still sting. He told me I don’t know any of my teammates, and he was right. I play with these men day in and day out. I attend their weddings and their baby showers. But the details of their lives feel so far away. It’s not my life, not my routine, so I don’t really pay attention. In contrast, Teddy pays attention to everyone and everything. He was only an intern for the Rays, and that was six years ago. I couldn’t tell you who was on the team six years ago. I bet he can.

the plane’s side door will open, and I’ll walk down the airstairs with the man I just legally married. Teddy O’Connor is my partner, which makes me gay. It’s a lie, of course. When it comes to sexual attraction, I don’t think I’m . . . well, anything, really. Is that even possible? To be attracted to no one? I’ve always just assumed there’s something broken in me, some software update that never got properly installed.

“And Rachel arranged a medical transport to get her home. She’ll be more comfortable than trying to get her into your sports car.” Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? I drive a blue Porsche 718 Cayman. Ostentatious, I know. It was the one indulgence I allowed myself when I signed my first Rays contract. But it only has two doors. There’s no way to get Karolina in and out safely. I suppose I need a more versatile vehicle now.

Teddy makes the transfer, helping her get situated with her casted leg propped up. She holds tight to Teddy the Bear, looking so nervous as she tries to find a smile. I brush my hand over her hair. “Hey,” I murmur in Swedish. “You know, you make me very happy.” She nods, giving her bear a tighter squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here with me, mitt lilla lamm. This is a new adventure for us both. Hold my hand?” I hold out my hand, and she takes it. I give hers a squeeze. “Don’t let go.” I nod at Teddy, and he smiles. “Alright, Princess. Time to go greet your new loyal subjects. You ready with a royal wave? Hen, you gotta wave too.” “Why do I have to wave?” “Because you’re Princess Karolina’s court jester.” This makes Karro giggle. “And what does that make you?” “I’m her official food taster and popcorn maker,” Teddy teases.

We get down to the bottom, and another attendant is ready to help us off the lift. Poppy’s daughter rushes forward, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she holds out a sparkly pink crown. “This is for you, Lina.” “Oh, wow.” Teddy drops to one knee. “So pretty. Want me to help you put it on, honey?” Karolina nods and he takes the crown from her, fixing it to the top of her head. “This is Grace,” he adds, ruffling the little girl’s curls. “And see her mommy right there? That’s Miss Poppy. Doesn’t she look just like a pretty Barbie?”

“Well, I think we’ve bothered these fine airport people long enough, don’t you? Let’s get you two home.” “Three,” I correct. Behind her oversized sunglasses, I can see the raise of her brows. “Three?” “Teddy is coming home with me. He’ll be living with us for now, until we figure out a plan of what to do.” She pats my arm again. “Well, that knocks the first thing off my to-do list for our PR crisis meeting. Which is scheduled for Monday morning, by the way. I’ll expect you and your new husband in my office at nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Rachel smiles, one hand on her pregnant belly. “He really doesn’t mind. We’re all headed that way anyway. Let us save you the trip back.” I glance between them. “You’re headed which way?” “To your apartment.” At the look on my face, her smile falls. “Wait . . . did Tess not clear it with you first?” Tension coils in my chest. “Clear what with me?” Heaving a sigh, she calls out. “Tess!” Langley’s wife saunters over. “Hey, what’s up?” Rachel levels her with a stare. “Tess, why do I get the feeling that Karlsson here has no idea there’s a potluck dinner happening at his house tonight?” Tess schools her expression. “What, did Teddy not clear it with you?” Teddy turns. “Did Teddy what? I just heard my name.” Rachel turns to him. “Teddy, did you not tell Karlsson about the plans for the potluck dinner?” Catching my glare, Teddy’s smile drops. “I—you said you cleared it with him,” he cries, pointing a finger at Tess. “Henrik, I swear to god, it was all her idea. I said you’d just want a quiet night in, but she insisted. They all did.” “All?” I glance between them. “Exactly who is coming to my apartment tonight?”

“Oh wow,” I hear Teddy call from down the hallway. “Henrik, you gotta come see this!” “It’s perfect,” Karolina squeals in Swedish. The excitement in her voice is the only thing that gets my feet moving. I cut across the living room and duck down the hall, stopping at the first open doorway. “What the . . .” What was my plain-white home office has been transformed into a colorful princess room. The far wall has been painted to look like a mural from the movie with the girl with the long hair. It’s actually quite impressive. There’s a stone tower in one corner and fluffy clouds in the sky. A stream flows across the wall through a field of wildflowers, disappearing behind the bed. That’s new too. There was no bed in here before. It’s canopied with frilly white curtains, framed by twinkle lights. The bedding is a bright purple, with delicate little flowers on her sheets. Where the hell is my desk? And the computer? And my exercise bike?

Then she looks up at me, her smile blinding as she says in Swedish, “Thanks, Morbror. I love it.” She looks so happy, I can’t help but smile. Reaching down, I brush my knuckles gently over her cheek. “You’re welcome, mitt lilla lamm.”

Feeling deeply moved by this consideration, I cross over to Tess. “You will send me the bill.” She just waves her hand. “No way. It was too much fun. We were all happy to chip in.” “I would appreciate being able to pay you back.” But Tess is firm. “Save your money for when her ballet lessons start again. Trust me, all your paychecks will go to tutus and pointe shoes. Then you’ll be dreaming of the day you got a free room makeover.” Her cheery confidence falters as she takes in my harried expression. “Seriously, it’s okay, Karlsson. I was happy to help.” “Well . . . thank you,” I mutter, unable to say more. I offer out my hand, and she shakes it. “You’re welcome. But really, you should thank Teddy. This was all his idea.”

I turn my attention to Teddy. He stands in the corner with a soft smile on his lips, watching the little girls put Barbies in Karro’s lap. They all talk at once, showing her the different dolls and their accessories. She holds Teddy the Bear and Pascal, delighted by all the attention, the little jeweled crown perched crooked on her head. I step closer to Teddy, lowering my voice. “You did all this.” He winces, bracing for my anger. Am I really so much of a bear? “I mean, if we wanna get technical, Tess did it. Or she hired the people who did it.” I cross my arms, mirroring his stance. “But it was your idea, wasn’t it? You told her what to do. You knew what Karro would like best.” He shrugs. “I just wanted her to come home to a place ready for some good memories. She’s had enough of the bad ones for a while. Don’t you think?”

“Hey, are you really mad? I can have them put everything back the way it was. I’ll even paint it back myself. I’ll—” I silence him with a hug, surprising us both with the action. He sucks in a breath, leaning away. “Thank you,” I say against his shoulder. “Thank you, Teddy.” His arm wraps around me. “Wait, so you’re not mad at me?” “I was,” I admit. “But I’m not anymore.”

He took my favorite cable-knit sweater. I run my hand down his back, feeling the ridges of the knit design. One of the women dramatically coughs, and Teddy and I break apart with a jolt. “Do you two need a minute?” Paulie’s wife teases. Her friend laughs. Behind her, Tess’s smile falls. She glances between us, her gaze settling on me. All of a sudden, it feels like she’s looking at me like I’m a wolf loose in the room. Next to her, Rachel looks at Teddy like he’s the sheep I intend to eat. Feeling self-conscious under their weighted stares, I step away from him.

Shutting the door as the last of them leave, I hardly have the energy to turn around and lean against it for support. I think I might be a little drunk. Wives kept putting beers and plates of food in my hand all night. I ate my weight in taco dip and drank so much, my fingertips feel numb. Teddy appears at the end of the hall. He’s shuffling too, fatigue making his shoulders heavy. He catches my eye and stops. Crossing his arms, he leans against the corner and looks around the now-spotless living room. “Long day.” “Exceptionally long.” “But a good one, right?” I purse my lips, saying nothing. He sighs. “They just want to be there for you, Hen. For Karolina. They’re all trying, and you have to give them that. Besides, you want her to have family here, right? Friends? You saw Emma Langley tonight. She cried when they dragged her away. Unless I’m mistaken, Karro just made a friend for life.” “You know all their names.”

“But you know them now. And you know their kids. You know all their names and ages.” “Yeah, I guess. There aren’t that many, so it’s not like it’s hard.” Pushing off the door, I cross over to the couch and sit down. “Will you teach me?” “Teach you?” “Teach me their names. I want to know.” “What, now? Like, right now?” I lean back against the cushions with a groan. “No. I’ve had too many beers to try to remember anyone’s name besides my own tonight.” He joins me on the couch. “Good. Because I think I forgot them all anyway. Man, jet lag is a bitch, huh? Can you believe we started this day in Sweden?” He glances around the apartment. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I hum my assent. “Where’s all your stuff?” “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if I hadn’t seen your secret loft in Stockholm, I wouldn’t know this apartment belonged to the same person. There’s nothing here, Henrik. No books, no camera stuff, no art. Where’s all your stuff?” I just shrug. “I don’t live here.” He laughs. “What?” “Hen, that makes no fucking sense. You spend more time living here than you do in Sweden.” “I work here,” I correct. “My life is in Sweden. It will always be in Sweden.”

“Okay, it means, ‘Wow, I had no idea you were a fourth-degree black belt in compartmentalization.’ I suspected it, obviously. But this is off the freaking charts, even for you.” “What?” “Henrik, you’ve put literal living in a box. And apparently that box stays in Sweden. So, this place is . . . what? Where you just power down like a robot? Rest and refuel between games?” “Pretty much.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Virgo. No wait—” He holds up a hand. “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re a Capricorn.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve said that to him over the last two weeks. “When’s your birthday, Henrik?” “January ninth. Why?” “Yep.” He slaps both his thighs as he slowly bends forward and stands. “That explains it.” “Explains what?” “I’m fake married to a Capricorn. It’s my own fault, really. I made this bed of thorns, and now I’m gonna lie in it.”

“And you don’t, right? Typical Cappy.” With that, he wanders off towards the kitchen. “What makes you think I resemble a Capricorn?” I call after him. He turns around, both hands raised. “Look, I don’t think either of us is sober enough to open this particular can of worms tonight, okay?” I rise to my feet, wobbling only slighting. “Go on, tell me.” “Fine. Where to start?” He ticks each point off on his fingers. “How about being a super serious workaholic who is inflexible, stubborn, a total pessimist—oh, and totally repressive towards feeling his own emotions?” I cross my arms, glaring at him. “A damning list of faults, to be sure. Have I any virtues in your eyes, partner?”