CHAPTER NINETEEN
D mitri
I follow Oskar inside, my heart pounding a more frantic rhythm than usual.
The kiss was... Well, it was good. Really good.
And though I’d like to say that every kiss I’ve ever had has been good, that’s not the case. Probably we didn’t have chemistry.
And Oskar...
He’s not a bad kisser. Not at all.
Does that mean I have chemistry with him? But I’m straight.
Maybe it’s that Harvard education. That must be it. He probably read a book on kissing or something. That would be totally like something he would do.
“Aw...” Finn grins at us in the hallway. “Holding hands when no one is around and staring goofily into the distance. How romantic!”
Our hands spring apart.
“I-I didn’t realize,” Oskar stammers, stepping away like he’s been shocked.
Finn’s eyes soften, and regret enters his gaze. “It’s sweet.”
“We, um, were ambushed by paparazzi at the entrance.”
Finn’s face twists. “Shit. I’m sorry. They were relentless with Noah and me last year.”
“I’ll get to work,” Oskar mumbles, already backing away, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor.
“Have fun,” I call after him. “I’ll stop by at lunch.”
“You will?” His eyes round, and I hate that I don’t stop by every day for lunch.
“Of course. You’re my husband, and we work in the same building.”
“But—”
Finn is following our conversation with great interest. I sigh and give Oskar a kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”
“See you.” Oskar scurries away, practically sprinting down the corridor.
I turn to Finn who for some reason is frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Be careful with him.”
I blink.
“Protect his feelings.”
“Of course I’ll protect him. I’m his husband.”
Finn shakes his head, then sighs. “I am serious.”
“No one would protect him more than me.”
Finn tilts his head. “You’ve always been close to him.”
“Yes. I am his best friend.” I eye Finn. “Best friends are very close.”
Noah joins us, and a smile touches Finn’s lips. “Noah is my best friend.”
I nod, pleased he understands. “Then you know what I mean.”
For some reason, Finn’s smile collapses. “But he’s also my husband.”
“Oskar is my husband.”
“But—”
I stare.
Finn stares.
Finally Finn shakes his head. “You know, Sebastian’s friend was not impressed that you didn’t let him speak to Oskar at the party at our house.”
“He wanted to speak to Oskar alone.”
“You speak with Oskar alone.”
“I am his husband.”
“But— “
Noah elbows him, and then they seem to be doing a strange sort of staring match instead.
Finally, Finn huffs out a breath. “You know if you want to be his husband in every sense of the word, that would be cool.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You know. Every sense.” Finn waggles his eyebrows like he’s trying to communicate in code.
“You’re strange,” I declare.
Noah giggles, then Finn elbows him and then they start elbowing each other in the hallway. I know from experience that this sort of behavior leads them to making out, and the conversation is officially over.
I wander away, wondering what it might be like to have the sort of close relationship that Noah and Finn have. I have that with Oskar of course, but we don’t start randomly making out.
I glance back at Finn and Noah.
Yep, they’re totally acting like they’re in the end of a romantic comedy now, the part where the music swells and the camera starts spinning.
Troy and Jason are working out.
Jason frowns. “You seriously married Oskar? In Vegas? Just like Noah and Finn.”
“Is traditional American wedding celebration place.”
Troy nods. “Well, that’s correct.”
Noah and Finn enter the locker room.
Troy scrunches his lips. “Though, you know, you can get certified online.”
“What does that mean?”
“You could have asked one of us to marry you.”
My eyebrows raise. “I was only going to ask Oskar to marry me. Not one of you.”
Troy’s lips twitch. “That’s good to hear. I meant conduct the ceremony.”
I blink.
“If you’d waited a few days for the license, you could have gotten married on your lunch break.”
“Oskar deserved real wedding.”
The guys exchange glances again.
“That’s adorable,” Troy says finally. “If we’d known in advance we could have thrown a bachelor party.”
I grimace, imagining dancing men around Oskar. “Is not good wedding tradition. Inappropriate.”
“We totally agree,” Finn says, elbowing Noah. “That’s why we didn’t have one.”
“You keep things appropriate, babe,” Noah says, and Finn ruffles his hair and beams.
The door slams open and coach marches into the room. He shoots me one of those ferocious glances that Vikings probably used centuries ago to make their enemies crumble and hand over gold.
He points at me. “Family dinner on Thursday. Be there.”
“Yes, daddy.”
His glower deepens. “Seven pm. Don’t be late. Ingrid does not like serving cold food.”