“Also, I never got the chance to buy her an engagement ring since the elopement happened quickly. So I got her a diamond tennis bracelet instead. She might want to choose her own ring, you know?”
He emits an exaggerated whistle. “Excellent choice. I bet that’s gonna blow her away. You’re going to make me look bad.”
“Why? What did you get Mom?”
“Her favorite chocolates and pickleball lessons,” he says in all seriousness.
I guffaw. He better be kidding. “I’m definitely gonna make you look bad.”
While the pie cools and the roast roasts, everyone goes outside for a walk. There’s a park with hiking trails a few minutes away.
Sabrina and I are in the front of the group when she squeezes my hand. “Thanks for this,” she says.
“That’s my line, Baby Brie,” I mutter while leaning down for a kiss.
“Save it, guys! We gotta work out before eating dinner,” Julia whines behind us.
We trudge along as I steal glances at the woman beside me. For years, we’ve shared laughs and dreams and adventures. Yet this simple walk down a street and the easy companionship we share with family this Christmas is the biggest adventure of all.
Something unlocked in me last night: that place where I’ve shoved the thousands of ways I’ve been drawn to Sabrina through the years. Under the surface of our friendship, there was always an unacknowledged reservoir of needs: to be closer, to touch more, to see everything. To be everything she needs. Last night burst open a Pandora’s box of my unspoken feelings and all the reasons we should be together.
She’s beautiful inside and out. She’s the only woman who truly knows me as a person and not just as a successful hockey player. Her determination is inspiring, and our chemistry is off the charts. Making sure she’s happy and healthy and fulfilled sounds like a great life plan to me.
My thoughts are interrupted by an unexpected sigh.
“Are you OK, Sabrina? Do you miss your parents?” I ask. “They know there’s room for them here if they ever want to visit.”
“They know,” she answers. Her voice is nearly a whisper. I pull her to me for a side hug and kiss the top of her head.
“The trail starts here,” I call to my family while pointing ahead.
They get in front of us.
When they’re beyond earshot, she continues in a volume meant only for my ears.
“The last few months have been exhausting for them. Taking me to appointments when I couldn’t drive myself. Helping me with my physical therapy exercises those first few weeks. It kills me how much they’ve had to sacrifice when something so random changed our lives.”
Slowing down to add distance from the group, I stop and turn her toward me.
“It isn’t a sacrifice to help you, Sabrina. It’s an honor.”
Her face softens, the anxiety melting like heated snow. It’s the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. She tastes like Christmas: cinnamon and maple syrup and candy canes. Our kiss deepens before I feel her hand on my chest.
Pushing away, she gives me a scolding frown.
“They’re waiting for us.”
“The trail is a loop,” I say. “They’ll end up here eventually.”
She snorts. “You’re a terrible outdoor guide.”
“I have other talents,” I tease, enjoying her exaggerated eye roll.
“I wasn’t sure if we were going to be, you know, ourselves today,” she says hesitantly.
“You mean obsessed with food and hockey? That’s not changing any time soon, Sabrina.”
“Are you going to make me spell it out, Dex?” she asks. “When we talked about making a mistake, I thought it was for just one night. But this morning . . .”
