Page 117 of Pucking Strong

Teddy doesn’t smile. “You were saying?”

“We can’t go backwards,” I repeat. “Whatever hand of fate led us here, wearehere. We’re in this moment. We’re married, sharing custody of a child … and you’re in love with me. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to see if I could learn to love you too.”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “What if you can’t? Henrik, I won’t survive it …”

I take some cash out of my wallet and toss it on the table. It’s more than enough to cover the meal. “I’m not too worried. If anything, I think I’m excited.”

He watches as I rise from the table. “What are you doing?”

I offer out my hand. “Come with me.”

He places his hand in mine, and I draw him up from his chair. Lacing our fingers together, I weave out of the dining room, past the photographer sitting at the end of the bar. The man scrambles, digging in his wallet to pay his bill so he can follow us out of the restaurant.

Once we step outside, the ocean air fills my senses. The sun has set beyond the dunes, leaving a hazy blue twilight out on the beach. The waves crash into the white sand as a pod of pelicans goes drifting silently past. I cut right, leading us away from the valet stand.

Teddy follows behind. “Where are we going?”

I walk him over to the rickety stairs that lead down to the beach.

“Hen, these shoes are Italian leather. And not mine.”

Smiling, I kick off my own shoes, leaving them by the stairs. Dropping his hand, I bend down and tug my socks off, stuffing them in my pocket. Righting myself, I extend out my hand again. “Live a little.”

Rolling his eyes, he kicks off his shoes, cuffing the hem of his pants that are an inch too long. Then he places his hand back in mine, and I lead the way down the stairs. The wood is rough, but the beach is cool. My feet sink, sand pouring between my toes.

“Our shadow is following us,” he says at my shoulder.

“Ignore him. He doesn’t matter.” I don’t stop walking until we reach the water’s edge. Bits of shell and other detritus litter the surf, dusted with frothy sea foam.

Teddy groans. “If I get this suit wet, Novy’s gonna make me get it professionally dry-cleaned—” He gasps as I turn and reel him in. Our chests brush, feet sinking in the sand, as I sling my arm around his shoulders, keeping hold of his left hand. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll buy Novy ten suits,” I say in his ear. “One in every color. Just shut up and dance with me.”

He goes stiff for a moment. Then he relaxes, his hand going to my waist. We shift in the sand, doing an awkward half turn. “Hen, there’s no music.”

I break us apart long enough to pull my phone from my pocket and tap the first song on my “Teddy” playlist. I turn the volume all the way up so we can hear it over the surf. Then I pull him back to me, my arm around his shoulders.

The music filters out and he relaxes, resting his forehead to mine. “I love this song.”

“I know.”

He leans away, searching my face. “How?”

“You listen to it all the time in the bathtub.”

“Should I be flattered that you researched the artist? Or worried that you guard the door while I bathe?”

I shrug, surprising him as I spin him out and pull him back in. “You sit in there so long, I have to check that you’re still alive.”

He laughs as an ocean breeze blows a few of his locs loose. “It’s called self-care.”

I tuck the locs behind his ear, fingertips brushing down the column of his neck. His eyes go wide, unsure of what to make of my touch. “I know you’re scared. You have every reason to doubt me, to want to protect your heart. I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

Before he can reply, I spin him out again, letting him turn back into my arms.

“We’ll take it slow,” I go on. “You can say no at any time to anything. And I’ll try to be clear if I think I’m ready for more.”

Finally, he nods, letting out a breath. “Okay.”

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