"Because you were carrying our daughters." I slide my hand between her thighs, feeling her heat. "But right now, I just want to be with my girl."
"Then be with me."
I lift her, pressing her back against the tile wall, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The position is familiar but also new—we're both different people than we were lastsummer. I'm a father now. She's a mother. We're partners, co-parents, lovers.
But in this moment, we're just Tucker and Sloane.
I enter her slowly, giving her time to adjust, and the sound she makes—relief and pleasure and perfect rightness—nearly undoes me.
"Okay?" I manage.
"More than okay." She rocks against me. "Move, Tucker. Please."
So I do. And it's frantic and loving and desperate all at once. Water streams over us, and she's clutching my shoulders, leaving marks I'll see tomorrow in the mirror and wear like badges of honor. I tell her how much I've missed this, missed her, how fucking perfect she feels.
I dip a hand between us, finding the hard pearl of her clit, and she comes apart in my arms, biting down on my shoulder to muffle her cries, and I follow seconds later with her name on my lips.
We stay like that for a long moment—hearts pounding, breathing hard, connected in every way that matters.
"I love you," I say into her wet hair.
"I love you too."
I set her down carefully, and we finish actually showering, trading soap and soft touches. She mentions how excited my dad was to fill his minivan with car seats again–two for our babies, one for Gunnar’s, and a booster for Pete’s daughter.
Sloane wraps a towel around herself. "Have you talked to him about … everything? He hasn't been to Sunday dinners."
"No idea. He won't return my calls." I pull on my jeans, frowning. "It's not like him. Pete's always been solid, you know? The responsible one. But lately he's just... gone."
"Maybe he's overwhelmed by your big-ass family." She grins. Sloane is coming around to the Stag way of loving.
But Pete’s emotional distance bothers me. He was there for me when I needed his help professionally. He didn't judge, didn't lecture—just showed up. I want to do the same for him, but I can't help someone who won't let me in.
Sloane must read the concern on my face because she crossesto me, fully dressed now, and takes my hand. "He'll reach out when he's ready. That's what you did, remember? You came to me when you were ready to change."
She's right. I finish getting dressed and pull her close one more time.
"Marry me," I say.
She blinks. "What?"
"Marry me, Sloane." I brush her still-damp hair back from her face. "You’re it for me. I want you to be my wife. I want Shula and Aurora to have married parents. I want?—"
"Tucker." She presses her fingers to my lips. "I'll think about it."
"You'll... think about it?"
"Mmhmm." Her eyes dance with mischief. "Give me a week or two. Let me really consider whether I want to legally bind myself to a man who thinks it’s okay to have shower sex in a locker room."
"Sloane—"
"Also, if we're doing this, you're going to have to ask me properly." She taps my chest. "Ring, bent knee, the works. I deserve a good proposal story to tell our daughters."
I stare at her. Then I start laughing. "You're serious."
"Completely. Also, I'm saying yes." She rises on her toes to kiss me. "Obviously, I'm saying yes. But you're going to have to work for it a little. I have standards now."
"You're killing me."
"I know." She grabs her coat. "Come on. We have thirty minutes left before my boobs explode."
We leave the locker room together, and I'm already planning the perfect proposal in my head. Something with the twins. Something that shows Sloane exactly how much she means to me.
As we walk through the empty arena corridors, her hand in mine, I think about how completely my life has transformed. Last summer, I was a reckless kid playing hockey and fucking around. Now I'm a father, a partner, a man with actual plans for the future.
And I wouldn't change a single thing.
