Standing up against the glass with a sign that reads: “I choose you.”
That’s all. No name, no number, just three simple words. But that’s really all I need or care about.
I skate over to her, wishing there wasn’t a barrier between us. I press a hand to the glass, splaying my fingers and she puts hers against it from the other side. Then our eyes meet and neither of us move. I don’t want to do this here, in front of an audience, but I can’t seem to look away.
Part of me can’t believe she’s here, but another part—one I keep buried deep—somehow knew she would.
“Hi,” I mouth after a moment. “What are you doing here?”
Smiles and points to the sign. Then she raises a fist and gently taps it twice over her heart.
Fuck but I love this woman.
I don’t know what’s changed but it doesn’t matter.
We have so much to talk about—but I have to get my head in the game for the next three hours or so.
“I have to go,” I say reluctantly.
“I know.” She nods.
I smile, wink, and then skate back to where Jude is watching me with a smirk.
“She’s here,” I say needlessly.
“I know.” He grins. “She called Chloe to figure out where we were, and I got her a ticket.”
“Thanks for that.”
He nods. “Of course. Chloe said she was a nervous wreck when they met up. She was actually a bit worried about her, she looked so pale and tired.”
I wince.
That’s my fault and something I’m going to fix the moment we have a chance to talk.
Because she chose me.
Finally.
She made her choice and I plan to do everything in my power to make sure she never regrets it.
“She overthinks things sometimes,” I say carefully. “But I hope once we talk, she’ll feel better about everything. I should’ve bought a ring, dammit.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t rush into anything. Talk first. Reconnect. Have the tough conversations. Get your footing as a couple. Then buy the ring.”
“Yes, oh masterful one.”
“Fuck off with that.”
We both laugh.
Hockey first, then I’m getting my girl back and never letting her go.
We pull off a shutout, so the mood in the locker room is jovial. Guys are laughing and joking, there are some members of the press milling around, but I make a beeline for the showers. I do more than my share of talking to reporters after most games, so I can get a pass tonight.
“The girls are meeting us back at the hotel,” Jude calls to me as I get dressed. “No need to rush.”
“Thanks.” We’re staying at a hotel in midtown, since we’re playing the other New York team the day after tomorrow. There’s a bus that will transport us but I don’t want to wait.
