She looks up at me, smiling. “You even got the ‘yes, sir’ right.”
I smile, brushing a kiss against her hair.
Our fingers intertwine, and before I start the engine, she leans into me for a kiss. It feels easy and natural, like something that’s already been decided.
And in my head, it is.
When the time’s right, I’ll ask her dad the question.
The one that makes this family official.
Chapter Forty-Five
CHARLOTTE
The floor’s a minefield of half-filled boxes and packing paper.
The one in front of me readsKitchen,flanked by others markedDonate,Storage,Bedroom, andBathroom.
My chest tightens in that fluttery way that’s half nerves, half excitement.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kristy.
Kristy:How’re you feeling today? You keeping your feet up at all or still running circles around everyone?
Me:Somewhere in between. Trying to remember to breathe.
Kristy:Breathe, yes. Overachieve, no. Safe travels to New York tomorrow. Don’t work too hard.
My phone buzzes again, and this time it’s Declan.
Declan:How are you feeling?
Me:Trying to make a dent in packing before Dad and David pick me up.
Declan:Sophie wants to help you pack up. Said we should come by.
Me:You don’t have to do that.
Declan:We want to. You gave me a key so we’re all set. Promise we won’t break anything.
I shake my head, warmth spreading through my chest.
I’m moving in with Declan.
The thought doesn’t make my stomach twist. It settles it.
This afternoon, I’ll be with Dad and David, visiting Mom’s grave. It’s something we haven’t done together in years. I’m nervous and comforted all at once. It feels overdue.
I glance at the wall where the sunlight hits the old framed photo of my parents. Dad is in his coaching jacket behind the bench, Mom bundled in her big parka beside me in the stands. She’s laughing at something I must’ve said, her eyes crinkled.
Tomorrow we fly out to New York for Games 3 and 4, but today’s about family, and about her.
Dad and David pick me up just after lunch. The sun’s high, the air warm enough that the snowmelt’s turned everything to that early-spring smell—wet earth, pine, faint asphalt heat.
The car ride starts light. David fills Dad in on team updates, half-teasing him about over-analyzing every play. Dad fires back about assistant coaches thinking they know everything.
I just listen, smiling out the window.
