We gaze into each other’s eyes as our heads move slowly forward until our lips finally collide with each other. As sweet as the moment is, I can’t help but break the kiss with a smile. Since we’re already joking about proposing, I might as well test him. “So.” I playfully rest my arm on his shoulder as I nibble another bite of my cookie. “How many kids do you want?”
Without missing a beat, he says, “With you, I’ll take as many as I can get. Well, unless the first one acts like me, then one is enough.”
Tossing my head back, I laugh hard. “I might have to agree with you there.”
He leans over and casually kisses the top of my head. “See, we agree on everything. We’re perfect for each other.”
I finish the last of my cookie and chew it thoughtfully before I say, “Thank you for this date. It was perfect. Well, except for the fact that you forgot the ring, but you can bring it to the next one.”
“You’ve got a deal,” he says, his smile full and bright.
twenty
Elijah
We’re still at our private picnic, and I kiss her slowly, while I brush my hand over her cheek. Koren kisses me back like she'd been waiting for this kiss all day. As much as I’m living in the moment, flashbacks flicker through my mind.
Like the time we got in our first major fight because of a social media post that someone made with me standing next to a woman who was a stranger, but the hashtag said #newlove. That was rude. This time, we know better than to get upset. We are going to talk about it.
Next, I see her standing in my jersey for the first time. I hadn’t given it to her, and we weren’t even dating. She came to a home game my senior year, and she was wearing my name. Boy, did it flip my whole world upside down. I had been in love with her for years, and it was the first hint she’d ever given that there might be some reciprocated feelings. Sure, it took me another few months to ask her out. Even then, I botched that. I guess the lesson is that there will always be mistakes. If we wait forperfection, we’ll fail. We must accept that there will be issues, but we know better now. We’ll face them together.
“I love that we haven’t changed at all,” she whispers into our kiss.
“I think we have,” I say, pulling back just long enough to speak. “But in ways we needed to grow to stay healthy.” I lean back into her lips right as my phone buzzes.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I pull my phone from my pocket. I’m about to toss it into the grass so it doesn’t bother us, but it buzzes again. I make the mistake of glancing down just for a second.
Coach Carlson: Call me.
My stomach twists in knots. We had practice this morning, and I’ll see him again tomorrow morning. There’s literally no reason he would need to call me unless it’s an emergency. I toss my phone into the grass, but Koren leans all the way back and asks, “Who was it?”
“Just the coach. He wants me to call him,” I say, leaning toward her again, but she angles her lips away, adding a smile like she’s teasing more than pulling back.
“What do you think it’s about?”
“I don’t care.” I slide my hand into hers, hoping to recapture her attention, but her gaze has taken a distant look.
“You should call him back.”
“Now?” The sun chose that very moment to drop behind the trees. Dark shadows cast over our picnic. Such a perfect metaphor, but I can tell by the way her brows bunch together that she will not relax until I call him. “Okay, let it be known I’d rather not have this distraction right now,” I said through clenched teeth as I press send on his name and put the phone to my ear.
The phone rings once, and he picks up, “Elijah.”
“Hey, Coach—” That’s all I’m able to get out when the barking blasts through.
“I don’t care about your personal life whatsoever. That’s your business, but the thing about your private life is that it’s your job to keep it private. If I see it and hear about it on social media, then you’re not doing your job. I need a team that is focused.”
I blink, waiting for him to take a breath to defend myself. “Sir, I can assure you that I’m focused. My personal life doesn’t affect my hockey.”
The line is quiet but full of thick tension.
“It’s good to know we’re on the same page then,” Coach says, “Because Friday is a huge game for us. I’m moving you to the third line.”
“What?” My head jolts back like I’ve been slapped. “I’ve been on the first line all season. What did I do?”
“I’ll be honest. I’m seeing all these hashtags from the wedding about this girl you’re dating, and you look extremely focused onher. I’m nervous for you.” Coach pauses, like he needs to catch his breath before continuing. “You’re better suited on the third line right now.”
Something about the way he’s rambling feels like he’s not making this decision with intention. He’s either mad at me, which is crazy because I’m allowed to live my life on my time off, or there’s someone else behind this decision. The owner, Bill Baker, has been known to stir things up, but this doesn’t smell like Bill.
