“You’re not a pig,” he said, nostrils flaring. “No one should ever call you that.”

“My mother disagrees.” I tried to laugh it off. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. She used to get to me a lot more. I’ve had tons of therapy. Anyway, maybe we should have a pact.”

“A pact?”

“That we don’t talk about skating. Well, that’s probably impossible. How about we don’t talk about competing against each other. We can just park the elephant in the room over in the corner, or stuff it under the bed.”

Saying the word bed out loud sparked a rush of highly inappropriate thoughts that I definitely shouldn’t talk about either.

After a few moments, Henry nodded.

“Cool. We’re both going to work hard and do our best, and it’ll be up to the judges at the Games. And until we leave for Calgary in February, we can hang and stuff.”

Henry nodded again, then said, “I have curry in the slow cooker.”

“Mmm. That would be amazing.” The idea of a hot, home-cooked dinner at Henry’s place with actual furniture and Esmeralda filled me with a kind of peace I hadn’t felt since I woke up in Torino with him still snuggled in bed beside me. Watching me.

As I’d blinked blearily at him, he’d whipped his head away, pink flushing his cheeks. It had taken all my willpower not to roll on top of Henry and kiss him until nothing else mattered.

“What kind of slow cooker do you have? Is it the Instant Pot? I heard that thing makes yogurt too. I should cook more. Actually, I was thinking maybe we could, like, divide and conquer when it comes to food? I’m not a great cook, but I can do a few things all right. I should be better about packing lunches and stuff. My mom used to say—”

Ugh, why was I bringing her up? I was still holding the small rolled-up Doritos bag, and shame shuddered through me. I crushed the remaining chips into crumbs, crinkling the bag.

“We’ll get groceries Saturday morning and prepare for next week.”

“Yeah, okay. Cool. Thanks.”

I exhaled, shoving the massacred Doritos back in my bag. I’d throw them out later, along with the Butterfinger. It really would make me feel shitty in the morning. Not that I was never going to enjoy sugar again, but Henry was right. I didn’t like feeling ugh.

“Tomorrow’s Friday? My days are all messed up. And I guess Christmas is next week? You’re not going to Vancouver? Obviously not. I’m not going to Chicago either. Too much training to do. It’ll be weird to have two days off during the week. We could do more cooking, maybe? Unless you have local plans for Christmas. Not that you have to spend Christmas with me!”

“I’m visiting my grandfather at his assisted-living facility in the morning.”

“I didn’t know you had any family here. Cool. That’ll be nice. Do you see him a lot?”

“Most weekends.”