“I’ll wear whatever you want,” she says with a chuckle. “Including your jersey at tonight’s game. But I’ve got to get ready to gonowor I’m really going to be late.”
I give her another quick kiss, then head out of the bathroom. With the door shut behind me, I move into the closet and quietly search through her drawers until I find that yellow bikini. Then I tuck it under my pillow. After she leaves, I’ll search for the brandand size online and buy her three more for when this one wears out. Because if there’s one thing I love as much as her in my jersey or my clothes, it’s this yellow bikini and the way it reminds me of our first weekend together.
Even though I knew back then that there was something special about us together, I never could have imagined we’d end up here. I’ll always be grateful that the disaster that was our parents’ marriage to each other led us to our own forever.
Epilogue
MORGAN & AIDAN
MORGAN
Almost Six Months Later
“I’m happy to hold her for a bit,” I tell Marissa, as I watch the Walshes’ youngest daughter squirm in the baby carrier strapped to her mom’s chest.
“She’s always fussy around this time of night,” Marissa says. “I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”
“You deserve a break, and I don’t mind.”
We’re almost into the third period in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Final. If we win this one, we'll bring the Cup to Boston and raise another banner in the rafters. Winning tonight, at home, against the same team that bested us last season, would be such a sweet victory. And after Luke’s shutouts in Game 2 and in Game 4, last night, there’s an energy on the bench and in the stands—like we’re all realizing how momentous that is after the way we lost in Game 7 last season. We’re the same team, but better, this year.
The WAG in me can’t help but think that the biggest difference is Aidan’s return to the ice. He’s become such a leader on the team, and even asked Coach Wilcott to keep him on the second line so that our first two lines were equally strong—something I don’t think his pride would have allowed for in previous seasons.
“Are you sure?” The look of relief that crosses her face is at odds with her question.
“I’m positive. And your girls are playing with Audrey and Lauren’s kids,” I say, glancing over toward one corner of the suite where all the kids, including Liam’s son Jack, are being entertained by someone’s nanny. “You should sit and enjoy a moment of peace before the third period starts.”
Marissa’s eyes fill with tears as she unstraps the baby carrier. These past few months have been an emotional roller coaster for the Walshes, who had to deliver their baby girl at thirty-four weeks because the IUD was getting too close to her bladder. Luckily, both the baby and her mama were fine. But with four little girls at home now, Marissa is as exhausted as you’d expect.
I take the baby and, holding her to my chest, bounce lightly from side to side.
“You’re a natural,” Audrey says as she and Eva approach us.
“I got a lot of practice when Lauren’s twins were babies,” I tell her, eyeing the cocktail in her hand.
“This is for you,” she says with a laugh as she rubs her free hand over her large belly and sets the drink on the ledge that runs in front of the seats facing the ice.
Audrey and Drew told us they were pregnant again at the New Year’s Eve dinner Aidan planned with his teammates. The pregnancy put their wedding on hold indefinitely, but Drew was so eager to have another baby with Audrey and get to experience the birth since he missed Graham’s. It’s been adorable watchinghis excitement and the way he’s doted on Audrey through the whole process.
“Thanks. How are you feeling?”
“Huge”—she huffs out a laugh—“and uncomfortable.”
“The last month is always the worst,” Marissa says.
“At least we timed this right with Jules and Colt’s wedding,” Audrey says. “I can’t imagine if we’d gotten pregnant a month later and I’d been like this”—her hand slips over the curve of her belly—“for the wedding.”
I know that the idea of being in Jules’s wedding a month after giving birth has been stressful for Audrey. But Jules, being Jules, decided her bridesmaids should wear “whatever black dress you’re most comfortable in.”
“You’re going to be beautiful and radiant,” I say. “Plus, you’re going to have a great rack, so pick a low-cut dress to drive Drew wild.”
“Speaking from experience?” she teases as she glances at my chest. I’m wearing a scoop-neck top under the WAG playoff jacket we’re all sporting this year, and it’s revealing quite a lot of cleavage, which currently has a sleeping baby resting on it.
“God, don’t let Renaud see you holding a baby,” Eva teases. “He’ll probably impregnate you on the spot.”
I just laugh, because she’s not wrong. Aidan’s become a bit obsessed with the idea of me having his child. I know he can’t wait to take that step, but it feels like there are a few other relationship milestones to hit before then. “Let’s let him propose first.”
It’s no secret that it’s going to happen. He’s been talking about it since we first told our friends and family we were together, almost six months ago.
