Page 163 of Pucking Around

I sigh, dropping my forehead down to my knuckles on the steering wheel. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right. I’m a freaking genius…also this is a straightforward relationship problem with a super easy solution, so…”

I laugh. “Super easy?”

“Yep,” she replies. “It’s called communication, Rachel. That’s the beginning and the end of your problems. They need to communicate with each other, and you need to communicate with them. I won’t pretend to be the queen of polyam relationships. But Idoknow something about failed relationships and toxic relationships…and one-sided relationships. And Idefinitelyknow about staying in a relationship long after it’s ended. The missing link in all of them? Open communication. Talk to your boys. Make them talk to each other.”

I sigh again, glancing in my review mirror to see Poseidon standing, his nose poking over the top of the back seat, smiling at me with those pretty blue eyes. Maybe Operation Beach Day is coming at just the right time.

“Tess, I gotta go,” I say, quickly spinning out a new plan.

“Okay. Well, let me know how it goes!”

We hang up and I drive down to the back of the little neighborhood, pulling up outside Ilmari’s house. “Come, Sy,” I say. He pops through the front seats and shoots like a rocket out of the car, rushing for Ilmari’s front door. He yips in excitement, jumping up and down as Ilmari opens his door.

As I walk up the little stone path, I hear him cooing at the dog in Finnish, petting him. I can’t help but smile. He’s wearing a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled up in his characteristic bun, a beach towel tucked under his arm.

“Hey, Rakas,” he says at me, holding out a hand.

I take it and he reels me in, Sy dancing at our feet as we kiss. “Hey,” I say, my nerves settling at his mere touch.

“What’s wrong?” he says, sensing my mood.

Big girl panties, Rach. You can do this.

“Do you mind if we come in for a minute?” I say.

Without hesitation he steps back, gesturing me inside. Poseidon darts in first, eager to explore. I follow him in.

Ilmari shuts the door behind me. “What’s wrong, Rakas? What happened?”

I take a deep breath, turning to face him. “Get your phone out, Mars.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Why?”

“Because I want you to google me. There’s some stuff you deserve to know before this goes any further.”

72

“What are you saying, Hurricane?” I glance at her from over the top of my aviators.

She’s looking like a snack wearing a pink bikini, a big sunhat, and oversized sunglasses. She takes a sip of her Diet Coke, glancing back at me. “Exactly what I just said. I think we all need better communication. And I think we need to start by talking about the big stuff. The dreaded ‘R’ word stuff,” she adds, giving me a pointed look.

“God, do wehaveto talk about radishes right now?” says Jake from my other side. “Come on, Seattle, it’s beach day.”

“That’s not the ‘R’ word I meant, and you know it,” she deadpans.

“Yeah, Jake. She clearly means refrigeration,” I reply, leaning back in my chair, eyes closed as I soak up the sun.

The little sea siren dragged us all to the beach today. It’s the only shared day off for all four of us for the next three weeks. The guys are about to head into a major sprint: one week of four games, two weeks of three. It’s gonna be brutal.

So today we’re lined up in a row of beach chairs, Poseidon running and jumping in the surf after the tennis ball Jake keeps throwing for him.

“I’m not following,” says Mars from his spot on her other side, hiding under the shade of the big rainbow beach umbrella with his sensitive Finnish skin. “What is this ‘R’ word?”

Jake and I both snort. “Radiation poisoning,” I say, as Jake says, “Racquetball.”

“Will you stop?” Rachel huffs at us. “Relationship, Ilmari. I’m saying we need to talk more about relationships.”