“We’re a team, right?”
Another tear slips down her face and I release her hand to swipe it away. She nods a few times and leans forward toward me. I meet her in the middle, fitting my mouth to hers.
I asked Ellie that first night together what her endgame was. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to figure outmy own. I was so wrapped up in hockey that I couldn’t separate what came after, only that it would be some consolation prize in comparison. Something to stay busy and keep my mind off dwelling on the “good old days.”
I know now how stupid that sounds. Because my endgame is Ellie—our life together. And those good old days? I have a feeling they’re just getting started.
EPILOGUE
ABOUT TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER
ELLIE
“I’m calling it.”
“But this was your idea.”
“I know,” he huffs.
There’s something about a grumbling Matt that just makes me want to laugh. I curl my lips around my teeth to keep them from stretching wide.
My foot wobbles again and Matt curses. “We should’ve gotten you hockey skates,” he says quietly as he tightens his grip on my hands, pulling me toward the exit. His eyes dart from my face to my stomach and then back.
It’s mostly cute how worried he is, but this was his idea, as I already pointed out. And I don’t think the type of skates would make a difference.
“But these are so prettyyy.” I drag out the word and attempt to point my toe out to the side. The action makes me falter again and Matt stops his backward skating to scoop me up until he’s got me, bridal style. The figure skatesarepretty and they looked way cuter than the bulky ones Matt showed me online. I kick them out to admire them in the air. Guess I won’t be using them.“I think you’re overreacting, you know,” I tell him. I didn’t even care about learning to skate, but Matt was the one who wanted to go tonight and teach me.
“I’m not used to thinking about the ice as such a fall risk.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “It’s freakingice! It’s like the definition of slippery.”
He grunts in response as we get through the rink exit and he brings us over to a bench. The outdoor rink is lit up with string lights and garlands draped in red bows, painting a dreamy holiday picture. Of course Matt found one walking distance from our apartment and paid to have it closed to the public for a night. Because he continues to be perfect.
“Well the people I skate with normally aren’t so…” Matt hesitates. “Wobbly. No offense.”
Almostperfect. At least he looks sheepish.
“Thanks,” I mutter as he gently sets me down next to him. I bend over to untie the mostly unused skates, but Matt grabs my hand to stop me. He gets off the bench and kneels in front of me to take them off himself. “Matt, I’m not even pregnant. This is ridiculous. I can untie my own skates. And it would’ve even been okay if I fell.”
“You might be though, and I’m not risking it.”
We’re in our second month of trying to get pregnant, but Matt is treating every day since the first day we tried as though I already am. And despite my reassurances—backed with medical evidence, mind you—he can’t seem to shake the habit. My period isn’t even due for another few days.
“Even if I was, I’d be barely four weeks along. That’s the size of a poppy seed, babe. A poppy seed. And that’s a bigifanyway. I don’t want you getting your hopes up too much.”
Matt stops loosening my skates and looks up at me, an indulgent smile on his handsome face. “I promise my hopes are in check.” He leans in to give me a chaste kiss before finishingremoving my skates and slipping my sneakers on. After he’s got his off and all of our stuff in the bag, he shoulders it and we head back to our apartment.
Pretty much the entire summer after the story broke a couple years ago, Matt lived out of my apartment. It took him two months of that to ask me how I felt about getting a bigger place together. It took another month to find the perfect spot. And it was on the day we said goodbye to my apartment—which had been fully emptied by then—that Matt proposed. My little apartment was filled with so many candles when we walked in that I was worried the sprinklers would go off. He even flew my dad and Zoey in for the surprise celebration that night at The Bar. I still can’t think about that day without getting choked up. It was just…the best day. I think the wedding has been the only day that’s topped it.
Our new place is much bigger than my one-bedroom, but still just as charming. And still walking-distance from the hospital, thank god. It’s part of what took us so long to find it.
Matt said we could sell his house over on the lake since I don’t want to commit to a commute yet, but I wanted to keep it for visitors and his younger teammates. And maybe for the future.
I also decided to see a new therapist after we got engaged, which has been going pretty well. We’ve made alittleprogress on driving with some forced practice, and a lot of progress on everything else. She even encouraged me to try and make friends with some other players’ wives (I still can’t believe I’m a WAG, albeit now a retired one—if that’s a thing) and go to an occasional game. Which meant I was able to attend some of Matt’s last big milestones and his final game with some support. It was important to me to be there for that.
I still have bad days, of course. Days where I can’t get out of bed. Our wedding was bittersweet in that way— it was hardgetting up, knowing my mom wouldn’t be celebrating with us. The day was so full of joy and sadness at the same time. She should’ve been there. I wanted her with me more than anything.
But I find myself happy above all else most days. Because of my job, my life, my friends and family.
