Her brows lift. "And the part where you stared at me like you forgot where you were?"
"That was intentional, too."
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. "I still have my work cut out for me when it comes to you."
"You knew that," I reply.
Her expression shifts, just slightly, and I see the echo of everything we had to survive to get here. The days when I didn’t believe I deserved her patience.
Then I reach out and take her hand. Her fingers curl around mine instantly, as if she doesn’t hesitate anymore either.
"Ready?" I ask.
"For what?"
I tilt my head toward the exit, toward the hallway that leads back to the rink, toward the world outside this room.
"Home," I say, and the word feels different now. It isn’t a place I return to alone. It’s a door I open and expect her to be on the other side of.
Her smile widens, warm and real. "Yeah," she says softly. "I’m ready."
I lace our fingers together and lead her out of the press room, past cameras, past reporters, past all the noise that used to make me feel cornered. The space where we first met, and I thought she was a reporter looking for more than a story.
The hallway is quieter. The arena hums around us like a living thing. Somewhere behind us, someone calls my name, but I don’t turn.
Natalia squeezes my hand once. "You did well tonight," she says.
"We did," I correct automatically.
She makes a small sound—half laugh, half scoff. "You can accept the praise."
"Isn’t that what I did?" I ask, though we both know that’s a lie.
We pass a framed photo on the wall—team history, old wins, old men who look like they’ve never let themselves be happy about anything. I used to think that was real strength. I used to think needing someone meant you’d already lost.
Now I know better.
Outside, the cold hits us in the face the second we step through the arena doors. Natalia tucks closer, her shoulder brushing my arm. It’s instinctive now. Like she doesn’t have to check whether she’s allowed to be here.
My chest tightens with something I don’t fight anymore.
"I’m glad you decided to move in on your own time. I don’t want you to leave," I say quietly.
She turns her head, eyes searching my face. "That sounds permanent."
I stop walking. Not fully, just enough to make her stop with me. I face her, still holding her hand like letting go is no longer an option.
"Yeah," I say. "I plan to make it permanent."
I can see the hope flash across her expression before she tries to hide it behind composure. I’m relieved to see that we’re on the same page.
"As soon as I know you’re ready to say yes," I add, because she’s on her way to big things and I don’t want to distract her… not yet.
Her eyebrows lift slowly. "How do you know I wouldn’t say yes right now?"
The question hits me straight in the ribs. The part of me that still expects something good to be taken away tries to flinch. I don’t let it.
"Because you’re building something," I say instead. "You’re building your empire. You’re finally doing it for yourself, not to prove anything to anyone. And I’m not going to be the next man in your life who makes your world smaller. I don’t want a wedding to distract you from what you’re doing. We have time."
