Page 61 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

J ust as I’m about to slink away from this table and check to see if Henrik dined and freaking dashed on me, he and Mars come striding back across the bar. Henrik is in front, carrying a tray of what looks like shots.

“Oh god,” I mutter, eyes wide.

“Hey, there they are,” calls Jake.

“We thought maybe you both fell in,” Novy teases. “Is that bathroom actually in Japan?”

Caleb eyes the tray warily. “Oh, what the fuck are those?”

“Make room,” says Henrik, wielding the tray of shots. Novy and Caleb scramble to shuffle the plates and baskets aside.

Jake leans back, catching a basket before it falls off the table. “I didn’t know this was that kind of party. Someone wanna explain?”

Henrik slips back onto his stool and starts passing out a round of shots. “We’re celebrating.”

Novy takes his shot. “Celebrating what? Don’t get me wrong, I’m always down for shots. Just tell me why. Is it Arbor Day or something?”

“Arbor Day is in April,” says Caleb.

Novy glares across the table at him. “Can you fucking not?”

Caleb raises both hands, leaning away.

“This one’s for you, Aarre,” Mars says at him, sliding him a shot glass.

Caleb takes it.

“Just club soda,” Ilmari adds, kissing his cheek. Then he reaches forward and takes a shot offered by Henrik with a soft word of thanks in Swedish.

Now, everyone’s eyes go wide.

“Okay, what the fuck?” says Jake. “What is going on? Mars, you don’t drink.”

“I do tonight,” he replies.

Novy sniffs his shot. “Why? What are we celebrating? Wait, is this sake?”

“Yeah, they didn’t have schnapps,” says Henrik. “But this will work the same.”

He finally hands me a shot. Then he surprises me by cupping my cheek.

The touch is so gentle, almost loving. He smiles at me, and my heart does a freaking backflip.

Then he turns to the group. “As you all know, shortly before the season started, I had the honor and privilege of making Teddy my husband.”

“Here, here,” says Morrow, raising his shot.

“Poor bastard,” adds Novy, and the others laugh.

Henrik drops his hand to my shoulder. “Teddy was there for me in a profound moment of grief. I lost my sister, my best friend. Everyone here knows what it feels like to lose, or think you’re about to lose, someone precious to you.”

The mood at the table sobers in an instant. I watch as Novy places a hand on Morrow’s knee. Across the table, Jake wraps an arm around Caleb’s shoulder.

“But in that darkness,” Henrik goes on, “Teddy was the light. He guided me back to life, back to living. The rings we wear became a tether. So long as I have him, I can keep fighting.”

“I picked those rings,” Novy fake whispers, making the other guys smile.

Tears burn my eyes as Henrik looks to me again. Then he clears his throat, turning back to the table. “In all the chaos of the last several weeks, there’s been no time to pause and celebrate our marriage. Typically, in Sweden, a wedding reception would begin with a toast.”

“Yes!” Jake is smiling from ear to ear. “Ohmygod, this is gonna be so fun. Do we get to give the toasts? As team captain, I get to go first, right? Can we use props?”

We all laugh.

“Ilmari had a good idea,” Henrik says. “He thought it might be fun to bring a little of my Swedish culture to this moment, as a nod to where our story began.”

“It’s perfect,” I say through my tears.

Novy pounds his fist on the table. “Teddy loves it! What do we need to do? Is there a Swedish toast we can learn? Isn’t it just ‘Sk?l’ or something?”

Henrik lifts up his own shot. “I’m going to teach you all a snapsvisa.”

“I heard the word ‘schnapps,’” says Jake.

The guys all laugh again.

Henrik smiles. “I’m going to teach you a Swedish drinking song.”

F ifteen minutes later, we’ve drawn the attention of most of the patrons in this restaurant as we collectively lose our shit, laughing and trying to sing this damn drinking song in Swedish.

Jake slaps his hand on the table. “Wait, wait, wait. One more time—”

“Come on ,” Caleb groans.

“Boo!” Novy shouts.

Morrow and I just laugh.

Ilmari mutters something in Swedish that has him and Henrik smirking.

“I’ve almost got it,” says Jake. “It’s the last line. Just do the last line again.”

Taking a deep breath, Henrik holds up his shot glass and chants, “Han heller inte halvan f?r.”

Jake repeats it twice under his breath as the rest of us laugh again. “Okay! Alright, I got it. Let’s go.”

Henrik holds up his shot glass a little higher. “Ready?”

“We’re ready,” says Morrow.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Novy shouts.

“Wait—” Jake’s eyes are wide as he stares down the table. “Mars, you’re really gonna do a shot with us?”

At my left, Mars is holding up his shot glass. “If I’m singing ‘Helan G?r,’ I’m taking a real fucking shot.”

Cheers go up around the table as he looks to Henrik and nods.

Henrik pounds his fist on the table. “Right. This is for Teddy O’Connor, my husband, min k?rlek, mitt allt … and the best-looking man in any room!”

Novy lowers his glass an inch. “Hey now—”

Henrik launches into the song, and this time we all sing along.

To either side of me, Henrik and Mars both have rich, baritone voices.

The words flow off their tongues with ease.

I’ll admit, I just feel like I’m along for this wild ride.

The whole restaurant turns to watch us as we sing at the top of our lungs:

“Helan g?r,

Sjung hopp faderallan lallan lej

Helan g?r,

Sjung hopp faderallan lej.”

Then comes the tongue twister that has us all gasping for breath:

“Och den som inte helan tar,

Han heller inte halvan f?r.

Helan g?????r!!!!”

As we hold out the last note, drumming the table with our free hands, Henrik holds his glass high. “Now, drink!”

As one, we all down our shots of sake, slamming our empty cups onto the table.

With a wave of Henrik’s hand, we finish the song with one more chant of, “Sjung hopp faderallan lej!”

All around the restaurant, the other patrons cheer for us.

Some shout their congratulations. Several of them have their phones out, taking pictures and videos.

I know our trusty voyeur is doing his job.

Surprising the heck out of me, Henrik leans over and kisses me right on the lips. “Well done, min ?lskade.”

I’m smiling, breathless, high on this moment. Not wanting him to get away so quickly, I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him back to me, kissing the taste of the sake from his lips while our friends all pound their fists on the table and cheer.

T wo hours later, we stumble out of the elevator, nearly tripping each other as we try to kiss and walk at the same time.

I’m drunk, but I don’t care. Henrik is in my arms. He’s alive and kissing me, and I never want him to stop.

He backs me up against the door, my ass slamming into the doorknob, as he fumbles and drops his keys to the floor.

“Fan i helvete,” he mutters.

Okay, maybe he’s a little tipsy too. By the end of the night, I lost track of how many times we actually sang “Helan G?r.” Things really got out of hand when our waitress, Kiko, taught us a Japanese drinking song.

Caleb called us all Ubers, piling his drunk husbands into the back of their truck.

Henrik and I kissed all the way back to the apartment.

Now his English translator seems to be on the fritz.

He mumbles something in Swedish, looking for his keys.

“Leave them,” I pant, tugging on his shoulder. “Just fucking kiss me.”

Abandoning his hunt, Henrik rights himself. Pressing in with his hips, he pins me to the door. I groan with aching need, my hands fisting tight to his shirt as I pull him to me. Our lips meet, and we both just sink into each other, taking what we need.

It’s not air. It’s certainly not more fucking sake.

I just need more of him . More of this taste.

More of the feel of him. I want us naked.

Undone. I want him pressing me down, making me bear his weight, as he claims me again and again.

Fuck, I want him to ruin me more than I’m already ruined. I am so lost to this man.

But we can’t do any of that in this hallway.

With a groan, I break our kiss. “Baby, get the keys.”

“Va?”

“Keys, Henrik. Keys for door. Come on, I don’t speak enough Swedish for this.”

Swaying slighting, Henrik steps back, once again searching for his keys on the floor.

I hear a click, but I’m too tipsy to register what it means. The front door swings open from the inside, and I go falling backwards.

“Teddy!” Hanna shrieks.

I’d like to say I catch myself, but that would be a lie. I land on my back on the entry rug, staring up at a shocked and dismayed Hanna.

“I’m so sorry!” She reaches for me with both hands. “I heard a noise. I thought maybe you forgot your keys!”

“Found them,” says Henrik, holding up his key ring. He finds me on the floor and lifts a confused brow. “What are you doing on the floor, mitt hj?rta?”

Hanna giggles, helping me to my feet. “Seems like you two had a nice time tonight.”

I slip my shoes off, leaving them by the door. “Henrik taught us all a snapsvisa.”

“Uh-oh.” She steps back, holding the door as Henrik enters. “Do you need me to stay the night?”

“Not necessary,” I reply with a wave, stumbling my drunk ass towards the kitchen.

Henrik says something in Swedish.

“English, babe,” I call over my shoulder.

Hanna laughs. “Actually, I speak Swedish, remember?”

I just groan. “Why does everyone speak Swedish but me?”

Over by the door, Henrik now seems to be having trouble removing his shoes.

Hanna just smiles. “Well, you both seem good. So, I’m gonna go. Have a great rest of your night, okay? Maybe take some aspirin.”

“I’m gonna make us some coffee,” I call from the kitchen. “We’ll be totally sober in, like, an hour.” She stifles a giggle that has me turning towards her. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says with a wave. “Just, Henrik said almost the exact same thing in Swedish just now. You two enjoy the rest of your night.”