His teammates jokingly refer to me as his wife, and a few weeks ago, when Max introduced us to his new girlfriend—whothankfully looksnothinglike Aidan’s mom nor mine—he called me his “future daughter-in-law.”
“I’m sorry,” Lauren’s voice comes from behind me, “but what is this about Morgan getting pregnant?”
I look over my shoulder to see Lauren and Paige standing there with plates of food in hand, and can’t help glancing behind them to check on Liam. He seems very at home in this suite talking to the three oldest Hartmann brothers.
Audrey moves over so Lauren and Paige can join our little circle. We’re missing a few of our friends. Jules decided that since this is possibly Colt’s last game, she wanted to watch the game closer to the ice with AJ and Frank Hartmann, and Zach’s girlfriend, Ashleigh, is also with them.
“I’mnotpregnant,” I say. “Eva’s teasing me about Aidan having baby fever.”
Paige laughs. “That man looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess who he wants to have his babies.”
I can’t hold in my smile. And as I look around the suite, full of our family and friends, I’m overcome once again with how lucky I am to be at this place in my life now.
There are so many moments, personally and professionally, where I felt like a failure having to start over from scratch—moving to Park City instead of Austin with my college boyfriend after he broke up with me, moving back to Boston with Lauren after her husband died, starting my own company when Petra no longer needed me to work for her. But each of those moments, each time I had to start over and reinvent myself, made me stronger and brought me one step closer to Aidan.
Ironically, even if I never speak to her again, I’ll always be grateful that Mom’s brief marriage to Max allowed all of this to happen for me. Because if Aidan and I had never been two strangers in a bar during a tropical storm, if we hadn’t sharedthat weekend together before life threw a bunch more obstacles in our way, who knows if we’d behere, together, today.
And here,surrounded by friends who are family, and in love with the man of my dreams, is the only place I ever want to be. Because no matter how tonight ends, no matter how this series ends, we’ll all be okay because we have each other.
AIDAN
“Fuck, yeah!” McCabe yells as he skates toward the bench after Colt stops yet another puck. We entered the third period up 3-1, and a win tonight will secure what we couldn’t last year—a Stanley Cup victory. As I hop the boards for our line shift, I focus on nothing but this moment and what I can do to help make a win possible.
Nothing in my entire hockey career has ever felt as inevitable as us winning the Cup feels. We’ve earned it...every hard-fought victory throughout a grueling season ended with us having the best record not only in our division or conference, but in the whole league. St. Louis making it to the Final this year was a fluke, and it shows. We’ve dominated the series so far, and their one win was a lucky buzzer shot before we would have headed into overtime.
Us winning tonight and bringing the Cup to Boston feels right. And if there’s anything I’ve learned over this past season, it’s tolean into what feels right. Fighting against that with Morgan almost cost me my own happiness, but I learned mylesson quickly. Which is why, when I saw how much stronger our team was with me on the second line, I asked Coach to keep it that way.
I move up the outskirts of the ice, knowing that Zach’s got the puck behind me and will be waiting to send it to me as soon as I cross the blue line. I hear it when he breaks through their lines, and spin as he sends the puck soaring right ahead of the blade of my stick so I can take off on a breakaway. It’s a textbook-perfect play, one we’ve practiced hundreds of times, and as I fly up the ice, eyes focused on the goal, I tune out the roar of the crowd.
It’s just me and St. Louis’s goalie. I watch him commit to his butterfly position, and I’m able to deke twice before I send the puck over his blocker. The swoosh of the net and sound of the goal horn bring my attention back to the home crowd going wild in the stands.
I skate back to the bench, high-fiving my teammates along the row before I hop the boards. As I take my seat, I glance at the scoreboard. Three minutes left, and we’re up 4-1. While it’s not unheard of for a team to come back in the last few minutes, that three-goal lead feels damn near insurmountable.
I can tell it by how tired St. Louis seems, like they’ve already given their all and there’s nothing left in their tanks. Which is why McCabe’s able to skate circles around them, and his goal has the entire arena erupting and throwing their hats onto the ice. It’s not his first hat trick this season, but it is his first in the playoffs.
5-1 with less than two minutes left, and as our third line takes the ice for the face-off, I see Colt signal to Wilcott.What the fuck is happening?
We call a timeout, and the six players skate back to the bench.
“What’s wrong?” Coach asks Colt.
“Nothing’s wrong. I want Hartmann to come in.”
“Why?” half the team asks at the same time.
Colt looks at Hartmann. “You deserve to be in the crease for the last game of the series and have it be a win.”
“Fuck that,” Hartmann says. “I’ve had plenty of wins this season and two shutouts this series. This isyourgame. Probably your last game,ever. And there’s no way anyone but you should be standing between the pipes when the buzzer sounds. Get your ass out there, and finish our season for us.”
“You heard him,” Coach Wilcott says. “Go get ‘em boys!”
And that’s what we do. We show St. Louis no mercy, not even when they pull their goalie in a desperate attempt to score one more goal. Instead, Coach makes a line change with thirty seconds left, and Drew sinks the puck into the empty net. When the final buzzer sounds, we flood the ice amid the deafening cheers of a home crowd and the championship music blasting through the speakers.
It’s momentary chaos as gloves and sticks and helmets go flying before we all pile onto Colt in celebration, and then we’re lining up and shaking hands with St. Louis.
The Commissioner presents the trophy for the most valuable player in the series, and it’s only fitting that it goes to Luke Hartmann. He stepped into his own this season, and in the playoffs he more than proved he’s ready to take Colt’s spot when he retires. His two shutouts in this match-up against St. Louis really cemented that he deserves this award.
Then the Cup is brought out and presented to our team, and McCabe takes his turn skating a lap around the ice, holding it above his head.
