Page 27 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

“But you stayed in touch over the years, and the romance blossomed. Are we tracking with this story? Because you’ll both need to memorize it.

And don’t deviate,” she adds, pointing a finger at us.

“There’s nothing worse than having Teddy say your first kiss was on a plane when Henrik tells the press scrum it happened on the beach. ”

Henrik’s eyes are wide now. “They’ll ask us about that?”

Poppy shrugs. “Probably. But when in doubt, deflect. There’s nothing wrong with saying you want to keep parts of the story private.

Now, I’m taking care of things on my end to create a convincing narrative of your shared past. I want the two of you more focused on the present, which is selling the lie. ”

“Which lie?” Henrik asks.

“The lie that you’re a happily married gay couple.

” She clicks to the next slide, which features a very phallic-looking tree trunk.

“Like our friend, the mighty oak, you two must now share one strong, united front. You are married, and you must appear so to the public—” She pauses when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Hey-o,” Novy calls out, opening the door. “Special delivery for my queen. Rush order, as requested.” He holds up a little black bag stuffed with white paper. The name of a jewelry store flashes on the side in shiny silver letters, and my heart fucking stops. I know exactly what’s in that bag.

Poppy’s eyes light up. “Oh, thank you, honey.”

“Anything for my love.” He sets the little bag down on the table.

“Your timing is literally perfect,” she coos, looking up at him like he invented attraction.

Novy bends over her chair, giving her a very PG-13 kiss that leaves her breathless. Then he’s brandishing a coffee with a flourish. “I also brought you a decaf pecan latte with extra whip.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” She takes the coffee and another kiss.

“Oh god.” The words escape me as I swipe my own coffee off the table.

Next to me, Henrik grunts his agreement.

Novy is still leaning over Poppy as he turns to me. “You got a problem there, bud?”

“I think it’s just seeing you being so sweet to another person. It sorta feels like watching an alligator play the clarinet.”

“It’s unsettling,” Henrik mutters.

“Right?” I jab my thumb at him. “What he said. Unsettling is a good word.”

Novy just straightens with a smirk. “Well, get used to it, assholes. So long as my girl is pregnant, she gets whatever she wants from me. She could tell me to dance naked on this table, and I’d fucking do it.”

Poppy pats his arm. “That won’t be necessary, honey.”

“What’s that?” Henrik nods to the little black bag. It’s like we both already know, and he clearly wants to get it over with. Which makes me feel fan-fucking-tastic.

“Oh—” Poppy takes a sip of her iced latte before setting it aside.

“I’m so glad you asked.” Reaching for the bag, she pulls out the tissue with a flourish.

“Now, we can get these resized if needed, but I hope they’ll do the trick.

” She pulls out two black ring boxes. “One for you,” she sings at Henrik. “And one for you, Teddy, honey.”

I feel like a robot as I mechanically reach out my hand and take the box from her.

Henrik opens his box and pulls out a shiny gold wedding band. “Is this really necessary?”

“It’s customary for married couples to wear rings as proof of their status,” Poppy replies. “Even in Sweden—and yes, I checked. In your case, it really is a PR necessity.” Then she glances between us, smiling brightly. “Well? Try them on. Let’s see.”

With a sigh, I open my box. A shiny gold wedding band sits tucked in a bed of black velvet. At least this one doesn’t carry over a hundred years of Karlsson family history.

Henrik turns to me, ring lying flat in his palm. “Is this acceptable to you? I don’t want to break any rules …”

He’s right. We have a lot of rules in this fake marriage.

There’s the “no saying husband” rule. And the “no kissing” rule.

Then there’s the “I pay him rent” rule. We haven’t actually discussed the terms of that one yet.

His “I sleep in his room” rule is working out great for me so far.

But we don’t have a “no wedding rings” rule.

Not technically. I just told him I wouldn’t wear his mother’s cursed ring.

“No, it’s fine,” I say. But then I hesitate, glancing his way. “Are you fine?”

With a nod, he slips the ring on his left hand, closing his fist around the glint of gold. He’s still wearing the cursed ring on his right pinkie.

“Well?” Poppy says with a smile.

“It fits,” Henrik replies.

She turns to me. “Teddy? Your turn, hun.”

I slip on the ring, feeling the coolness of the metal as it glides down my finger. Fuck, it’s a perfect fit.

Don’t read anything into this!

I glance up at Novy, always the prankster. “These won’t turn our fingers green, will they?”

He crosses his tatted arms. “Fuck you. Those are twenty-four-carat gold. You’re welcome.”

Henrik glances up sharply. “Send me the bill.”

“I’ll pay for mine,” I say in a quiet voice. Though I don’t know with what money.

“Out of the question.”

“Henrik—”

“I said no,” he growls. “Call it my third rule,” he adds more gently.

Right. So his rules for me in this fake marriage are that I have to sleep in his bed (even without him in it), I can’t have other men over to the apartment, and I can’t pay for my own wedding ring. It appears Henrik is something of a traditionalist.

“Well, you both look dynamite,” Novy says. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were married.”

“They are married,” says Poppy, waving to him as he leaves.

“Anything else?” Henrik asks as the door shuts.

She laughs. “Well, obviously. We only have to talk about the most important part of the whole PR plan.” She sets her coffee aside again. “Now, when you think of a tree, what’s the most important—”

“I’m sorry, but can you spare us any more of the protracted tree metaphors?” I say over her. “Please, just tell us what you want us to do.”

Henrik smirks, clutching his coffee with his newly ringed hand. I know he’s thinking the same thing as me.

Poppy presses the clicker, changing the PowerPoint slide to an image of the top of a tree. “I was going to say leaves . They’re the flashiest part of the tree. And the final prong of this PR campaign will mirror their ‘hey, look at me’ approach when it comes to the media.”

“I don’t understand,” Henrik says for both of us.

“We need the world to look at you,” she explains. “We want to shove it in their faces that you two are a happily married gay couple and that one of you just happens to play in the NHL.”

Henrik sits forward, a worried look on his face. “I thought this was about minimizing attention. It’s about keeping Teddy and Karolina away from the media, not shoving them under a spotlight.”

“Yes, but the best way to minimize attention in this case is to seek it out. We all know that the easiest way to hide something is to show the world you have nothing to hide.”

It clicks in my head. “Oh, that’s clever.”

She smiles. “I know.”

“Well, so what do you propose?” I ask.

Her smile widens. “I propose we go big . Total shock and awe. We’ll show them so many pictures and video clips of you both being happy and well-adjusted, that pretty soon they’ll just move on. There’s nothing the media finds more boring than two people living their happy, unbothered lives.”

“And then what happens?” asks Henrik.

“And then we win.”

He considers for a moment. “Okay. How do we do it?”

She clicks the remote, and a new slide appears with three columns. Bullet-pointed items are listed in each column. “Over the next few weeks, I’ve arranged a set of PR activities for you both, starting with an interview with my friend Janine over at ESPN.”

Why does that name sound so familiar? With a gasp, I sit forward. “Wait, Janine Marsh? Didn’t she do the interview with the Prices when they first came out?”

“Yep. And she owes me a favor. We’ll sit you both down for an interview. And don’t worry,” she adds, looking to Henrik. “It’ll be scripted. Janine will know what to ask.”

“And then what?” I say.

She uses a laser pointer to circle each column on the slide.

“From there, you’ll go on a few public dates.

We’ll have you photographed on each one.

You know, nice candlelit dinner, maybe a walk on the beach holding hands.

It’s gonna be so stinkin’ cute. Date one will be just the two of you.

And I’m sorry, but we’ll need some PDA for that one.

That’ll be your big ‘look at us, we’re gay’ moment.

The second date will be a group date. Doesn’t that sound fun? ”

It takes everything I have to stifle my pained groan.

Not only did I marry my dream man and move into his house to awkwardly co-parent his injured niece.

Now we’re both wearing shiny, matching wedding rings.

Oh, and I have to confess my not-so-fake love for him on ESPN.

And Poppy’s making us go on romantic fake dates together. Publicly.

This is just fucking perfect.

Henrik looks to me, waiting. Because, apparently, I’m calling all the shots now.

“Fine,” I say.

Henrik turns to Poppy and nods. “We’ll do it.”

She claps her hands together. “Excellent. And it should go without saying that Karolina will be protected in all this. I’m not the type of media director to use a child to score cheap PR points.”

“We appreciate that,” Henrik replies.

“I’m just glad to have so much enthusiastic cooperation. Pick an evening for next week when you’d like to go on your first date. Meanwhile, I’ll set up the ESPN interview with Janine. Sound good?”

Henrik nods.

I do nothing.

“Oh, and Teddy—” Poppy turns to me. “We’re gonna have you attend the opening night home game. That way we can get some shots of you with Henrik out on the ice. You know, the whole ‘cheering for your man’ angle.”

I’m on autopilot as I stand. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Just tell me where to stand and smile for the cameras.”

Henrik rises next to me, still looking at me warily.

“Don’t worry.” Poppy walks us to the door. “I have everything under control. Give me a couple weeks to work my magic, and we’ll make this all go away. Then we can all get back to hockey as usual.”

Henrik looks relieved as he shakes her hand. Meanwhile, I feel even smaller than I did on the day we got married. How is that possible?

We’ll make this all go away.

She means me. I’m what will go away. Henrik getting clear of this mess means getting clear of me. And apparently, he can’t fucking wait.