Bailey barks at the door again.
“Coming, boy.” I gather my surprise for later tonight.
The Ice Palace buzzes with energy as I make my way to the family suite. Fletch’s parents wave from their seats, already decked out in Knights gear despite having just arrived from the airport.
“There’s our favorite daughter-in-law who’s an author!” his mother calls, enveloping me in a hug that smells of cinnamon and home.
I’ve come to realize that we’re all her favorites.
“How’s the sneaky plan coming along?” Fletch’s father whispers, eyes twinkling.
“All set,” I confirm.
Bradley leans in, wanting more details.
“Jack is bringing him to the Fish Bowl after the game, thinking it’s just a casual team dinner.”
But before I can elaborate, the arena lights dim and spotlights sweep across the ice as the announcer introduces the Knights.
When Fletch’s name booms through the speakers, I cheer until my throat hurts, remembering how he looked the first time I saw him in a game after he returned from hisprolonged injury absence—the power in his movements, the joy radiating from him.
Some of his teammates say that he’s the same on the ice. Others claim he’s different. More grounded.
During away games, we video chat every night, and sometimes I travel with him, working on my laptop in hotel rooms while he practices. When we’re at home, he helps with my book signings at Once Upon a Romance, charming readers while I sign copies—and signing a few autographs himself. We’ve built a partnership stronger than I ever thought possible.
The front line starts with a strong opening, keeping control of the puck until Mikey scores.
The Rhode Island Royals come back with ferocity, but quickly sputter out as our defense keeps them from guarding their goal.
Fletch offers several assists and just barely misses a penalty. I’m worried about his jaw, but his coach seems unfazed, so I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. I almost wonder if his time on leave was meant to be, even if technically he could have resumed play sooner.
As the Knights repeatedly gain on the opposing team, we win with a final four-two score. Fletch made that last goal, making him the hero for the night.
He’s definitely mine.
After the game, we execute our plan. His family, teammates, and practically half the town gather at the Fish Bowl, which Margo has decorated with streamers and a “Happy First Anniversary” banner.
When Fletch walks in, his shock melts into that lopsided smile I love so much and makes all the secret planning with my mom and Margo more than worth it.
“You did this?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me.
“With a little help from our friends. Since we did get ahoneymoon, but not a wedding reception, I figured this would be a way for everyone to celebrate,” I say, gesturing to the crowd.
Mayor Nishimura clinks her glass for attention. “Before you all dig into the cake, I have an announcement. The Cobbiton Activities Commission has unanimously voted to once more appoint Fletch and Bree Turley as the organizers of the annual Christmas toy drive.”
Applause ripples through the crowd.
“Apparently, we’re stuck with this town,” I whisper to Fletch.
“No place I’d rather be stuck and no person I’d rather be stuck with.” His eyes crinkle at the corners.
The mayor continues, boasting about how special Cobbiton is and, more importantly, its citizens, especially this time of year when it’s a blessing to give and spread peace, joy, and hope.
Not only that, but after a series of meetings at the bookstore, we uncovered that none other than my mother was behind the Christmas Countdown Corner disaster in the Cobbiton Daily Caller last year. Apparently, Irene from Golden Years Retirement Village got tired of writing it once her new “affair” took off, so she quietly handed it over to my mom. She made a public apology and now sticks to the regular content … and avoids gossip, speculation, and matchmaking. Mostly.
Later, after the party winds down and we’ve returned home, Fletch and I sit with Bailey in front of the glowing Christmas tree.
This year, it’s decorated with ornaments from both our pasts—my grandmother’s vintage glass balls and his family’s handmade treasures—plus new ones we’ve chosen together, including a miniature laptop and a hockey stick dangling sideby side, along with a bone ornament engraved with Bailey’s name.
