Her sweet voice draws me out of the cavernsin my mind. “You’re frowning at that mixing bowl like it insulted your hockey skills.”
“Sorry. Just thinking.”
“About your father’s call?” she asks, perceptive.
“Among other things.” I set down the bowl and turn to face her. “Nina, can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Earlier, you said that you didn’t care about my money. Would you still feel that way if I didn’t have any? If my career ended tomorrow because of an injury, and I was just Regular Guy Lane?”
Nina wipes her hands on her apron and wears a quizzical expression. “Regular Guy Lane?” Her lips slowly part as if she’s trying to conceal laughter. “Are you asking me if I’d love you if you weren’t a famous hockey player?”
Love.
“Maybe.” I suddenly feel way out of my comfort zone talking about things like this and slightly foolish.
She steps closer. “Do you want to know what I fell in love with?”
I nod slowly.
“Your good looks. Your gaze across a crowded ballroom. The terrible jokes. The unlikelihood of there being a you and a me. What were the chances?”
“Slim to none.”
“I fell for your perfect hot chocolate. How you hug Kai even though you’re not a hugger.” She steps closer. “I fell in love with the man who was bold enough to dance with a stranger at a New Year’s Eve party, and brave enough to marry her under hypnosis.”
“That’s a lot of things that have nothing to do with hockey.”
“Exactly.” She reaches up and cups my face in her semi-floury hands. “I have a solution for all this overthinking you’re doing.”
“Stress-baking?”
“I don’t think that’s your forte.”
“Culinary emotional regulalation?” I guess.
“I have been craving steak, but no.”
“‘Cookies?’”
“Something even better,” she says, and then she’s kissing me again, and for a long moment, all my doubts and fears and father’s warnings fade away.
The kiss is soft and sweet, like hot chocolate and marshmallows, yet robust—darker chocolate rather than simple cocoa. There’s something tender yet fierce about the way she kisses me, like she’s trying to chase away every shadow that’s ever crossed my mind.
To make sure I’m certain.
To make us concrete.
To make what we have sure.
My hands come up to frame her face, and I kiss her back with everything I have—all the gratitude and wonder and love I can’t seem to find words for.
For these few seconds, there’s no pressure, no expectations, no voice in my head telling me I’m not working hard enough—the one that sounds exactly like my father. There’s just Nina, kissing me like I’m exactly who she wants, broken pieces and all.
Then I give back, dotting kisses along her jaw, sweeping my mouth along her neck, and returning to her lips with an intensity that surprises me, but it shouldn’t.
She’s everything to me and I tell her so in but one way I know how, deepening the kiss.
