We laze around until there’s a knock at the door. I answer it, grabbing the room service tray and tipping the bus boy with a quick thank you. I carry our food to the bed, lifting the lid with a flourish.
“Voilà.”
Teddy sits up, tousled and shirtless. He runs a hand through his hair. “This is the dream,” he declares with a beaming smile. “Waking up next to you and eating pancakes in bed.”
I laugh softly, propping the tray between us, and pour the syrup over both of our plates. “I’m glad you’re easy to please.”
He lets out a small moan taking a bite. “Perfect. One day, I’ll make you my wife, because you get me better than anyone else ever has.”
I freeze mid-chew, a piece of melon halfway to my mouth. My heart does a wild flip in my chest. He’s still chewing, like he didn’t say something that rearranged the air around us. I’ve spent so much energy chasing medals and sports victories, I never let myself imagine a future beyond racing. But here’s Teddy, handing me a clear portrait of what I want with a single sentence. The exhilarating truth is that I want all of it. Him. Us. Forever.
“Do you mean that?” My voice is smaller than I intend, but steady with hope.
He nods, seeming confident about the direction of our relationship. “Yeah. I do. I’m not in a rush, but when the time’s right, I’ll get down on one knee and ask you to be my wife, Ivy Sunday Campbell.”
He sets the fork aside and reaches for my hand, running his thumb over my bare ring finger. I’ve never pictured myself in white or daydreamed about vows or proposals. With him, itfeels like the most natural thing in the world. My chest aches with the realization, but in the best way.
“That—that sounds good. I’m not in a rush either.”
He squeezes my hand, smile deepening. “Just so you know, I’m picturing our future together with pancakes every Sunday, you stealing the best slices of fruit.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“I definitely do,” I admit, laughing.
We eat slowly, enjoying the moment. He drips syrup on his chest and mutters a curse under his breath. I swipe it away with a napkin, but my fingers linger on his skin. It hits me then: we’ve made promises without ceremony. It might be fast, but I couldn’t care less right now.
And instead of feeling trapped, I’m free.
47
IVY
MARCH 23
The snow fall follows us all the way out of Lake Placid, the flakes melting against the windshield. The road curves through forests weighed down with white, and I press my forehead against the glass to take it all in.
Leaving the last race location as a winner feels surreal. Especially since I’m not alone. Two of my big dreams came true yesterday—having the best race of the season and reuniting with Teddy. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.
Teddy is beside me in the backseat of a private car, leaning towards the other side. He looks calm like this, sunglasses hiding his eyes, white cane propped casually next to him. His hand rests on his thigh, fingers twitching now and then. I slip my hand over his, spotting the faintest smile brush across his lips.
“You’re staring.”
“Always,” I whisper, grinning when he squeezes my hand in response. “How could I not, you look so edible.”
He tilts his head slightly toward me. “Stop, you’re making me self-conscious.”
“You? Self-conscious? That’ll be the day.” I huff out a laugh.
“Hey, it happens. Especially when a certain someone stares at me like I’m a piece of meat.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice. “That’s because you are.”
“You’re going to kill me, Campbell.”
“You survived months of rehab. I think you can handle a few compliments.”
