"I asked a legitimate statistical question."
"You implied I was showing off for you."
"Weren't you?"
He pulled her in, kissed her quickly, then stepped back before anyone could round the corner. “Always. Ready for tonight?"
“My mother called me three times about the catering. I’m ready for it to be over."
"She means well. Hosting was the least we could do after…”
Libby sighed. “I know. I tell myself the same thing every time she sends me a new Pinterest post on napkin folds. Poor Jane.”
Liam’s apartment had been transformed.
Libby barely recognized the penthouse she’d been living in for four months. Kerrigan Bingley had descended with caterers, florists, and an army of people whose job titles Libby still didn’t fully understand. The result was elegant without being ostentatious—warm lighting, winter flowers, a bar setup by the windows overlooking the harbor.
Jane and Chase’s engagement party. Finally happening after three postponements due to road trips, scheduling conflicts, and one memorable incident involving a burst pipe at the original venue.
“Libby!” Her mother’s voice cut through the pre-party bustle. Linda Bennet-Cross appeared in emerald green, champagne already in hand. "There you are! Have you seen the ice sculpture? It’s a swan! With working fountains!"
"I saw it, Mom."
“Kerrigan insisted. She said swans are traditional. I said, ‘Kerri, you wonderful woman, you have vision!' Imagine what we could’ve done with yours—I had a whole arctic theme planned, with penguins?—"
"Mom."
"What? A mother can dream!" Linda squeezed her arm. "Oh, there’s Jane. JANE! SWEETHEART! Your hair looks GORGEOUS!"
She swept away, leaving Libby momentarily alone in the growing crowd. Guests were filtering in—teammates and their wives, Jane’s colleagues from the Steel medical staff, the rest of Chase’s family in from Chicago. The championship banner from June was visible through the window, hanging in the arena across the harbor. Sometimes, on quiet nights, she and Liam would sit on the balcony and look at it, not talking, just existing in the impossible reality of everything that had happened.
They’d won. Game 7 overtime, Liam with the assist on the Cup-winning goal. She’d been in the family box with Helen and Charles and Georgia, her fingernails carving crescents into her palms as the clock wound down. When the puck had crossed the line, Georgia had screamed so loud Libby’s ears rang for an hour. Charles had stood perfectly still, tears streaming down his face without acknowledgment. Helen had grabbed Libby’s hand and held it like a lifeline.
And Liam had looked up at the box, found her in the chaos, and smiled.
That was the image that had gone viral. Not the goal, not the celebration—just Liam D’Arcy, Stanley Cup champion, looking at a woman in his family’s box like she was the only thing that mattered.
ESPN had called the next morning. Stewart Phillips himself, offering her the Boston bureau. She’d accepted before he finished the pitch.
"You’re doing that thing again." Georgia appeared beside her, champagne in hand. "The staring-into-middle-distance thing. Liam does it too. It’s very dramatic and also very annoying when people are trying to talk to you."
"Sorry. Just thinking."
"About?"
Libby’s hand drifted unconsciously to her collarbone, where the ring hung on its chain beneath her dress. White gold, simple,elegant. She’d been wearing it there for three weeks now—ever since City Hall—not because anyone didn’t know, but because tonight was about Jane and Chase. The ring could live on her finger tomorrow.
"Just how much things have changed," she said. "A year ago I was writing freelance pieces about playoff beards and hoping someone would take me seriously."
"And now you’re ESPN’s Boston bureau lead, married to the Stanley Cup champion." Georgia grinned. "Quite the upgrade."
"He’s alright, I guess."
"I’ll tell him you said that."
"Please don’t. His ego is already unmanageable."
"Mom’s still recovering, you know." Georgia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "From the City Hall revelation. She’s been channeling her grief into helping Mrs. Bingley with Jane’s wedding planning. I heard her say the words 'ice sculpture cascade' yesterday."
