For a second, I thought he was going to get pissed. But a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Yes!

He said, “Touché.”

It wasn’t a real, beaming smile, but it was major progress. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. Being here in Henry’s darkened condo in his pajamas felt so comforting. Like we were in a little cocoon. It was surreal and strange but kind of amazing.

“You must be hungry,” he said.

I stretched and yawned. “Yeah. What time is it?”

“Four twelve.”

“Shit, really? I’ve taken up your whole afternoon. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I swear I didn’t have any chocolate. Or red wine. Sometimes citrus can be a trigger, but I didn’t have any this whole week.”

Henry’s brow furrowed. “It’s not your fault you have a migraine.”

“I shouldn’t have had that roti, but I don’t think there was anything in there that would do it. Sometimes the migraines just seem to happen even if I do everything right. Honestly.”

“I believe you.”

“Oh. Right.” I cringed. “Sorry. I get defensive about food. Have I mentioned that?” I plowed on before I lost my nerve. “I was an asshole yesterday.”

He pulled Esmeralda into his lap, eyes on her as he stroked. “I shouldn’t have criticized your food choices.”

“Look, we both know a donut for breakfast wasn’t the smartest start to my day. I’m supposed to be an actual adult, but sometimes I think I’m still rebelling against my mom when I eat junk.”

“She always seemed…challenging.”

I barked out a laugh. “That’s a nice way to put it. If she was here now she’d be ripping me a new one for having a migraine. She’d insist it was my fault and search my room for evidence of cheating on my diet and grill her spies at the rink for intel.”

Henry watched me with his brow extra furrowed. I shrugged. “She was always really invested in my skating. When I grew and got zits in middle school and put on a bit of weight, she started locking the fridge and pantry.”

He blinked. “How?”

“Like, actual chains and mini padlocks on the doors attached to brackets she installed. After a few months, my dad stepped in. He usually lets her do whatever she wants because it’s easier that way, but my sisters were embarrassed to bring their friends home. Not to mention pissed that they couldn’t grab a snack when they wanted. I guess my friends were other skaters who weren’t as shocked by it. But she was right that nutrition is important. I’m sure she’d approve of your eating plan.”

He shook his head firmly. “I don’t approve of her approach.”

“Yeah, well. At least Manon and Bill don’t do public weigh-ins. Mr. Webber didn’t either,” I added quickly. “But my Mom insisted on it with my old coach in Chicago, and I guess he agreed. Pavel’s originally from Russia, so he grew up in that Soviet system. If they gained an ounce there was no borscht that night. Do Russians actually eat borscht? Hmm. Did you read that interview with the Russian girl who quit last year? They don’t even drink water some days because they’re afraid they’ll gain. It’s so fucked up. But I’m fine. I try not to obsess about it, but I really do need to get my shit together to buy more groceries and bring my lunches to the rink. I need to plan ahead better.”