Chapter 1When I open my front door and am faced with Joakim, my first thought is, he’s wearing his Christmas sweater. Why is he wearing his Christmas sweater? It’s August.
My gaze flits from his sweater to his chest, up his neck, to his face, and back down to the sweater, unable to settle, trying to drink all of him in at once.
I rub my forehead. His Christmas sweater? That’s where my mind goes? Not what are you doing here? Not where have you been these last eight months? Not why didn’t you call or why now after all this time of silence? Not even it’s in the middle of the night?
No, it’s the stupid, garish sweater. Make Love, not Lutefisk, it says on the chest, and underneath the text is a huge fish wearing a Santa hat. It’s the ugliest thing I ever saw; Joakim’s sister Ellen gave it to
