Mom rises off the couch and places a gentle kiss on my father’s cheek before ducking into the box’s private restroom. I expect my father to make himself scarce again—or maybe grab a beer from the bar across the room—but instead, he plops down where Mom was just sitting.
“Not to be nosey,” he says, motioning toward my sketchbook, “but why aren’t you drawing on an iPad or something? Isn’t most of this stuff digital now?”
“I do, sometimes,” I admit while tucking it into my bag, only to pull out my tablet to confirm. “The project I’m working on is early enough in the process that they won’t mind it being hand drawn, that’s all.”
Granted, even with spending the past year assisting one of the top artists at our publisher, I have an extreme distaste for drawing on the damn thing. It’s part of the process these days, so I still do it, but I happen to think it takes away from the magic of putting ink on paper.
My father simply nods before briefly glancing over toward the rink again, where the Blaze fans have started some sort of chant. I can tell he’s itching to get back to watching the game, which is why I motion in that direction.
“I’m done working. You don’t have to stay here to watch me or whatever.”
“No, no, I’m not. I just…” His gaze slides back to me, only to fall to my bag. “Maybe you can show me what you’re working on, some other time. When it’s done, or just, whenever. Camden mentioned it’s really something special, and…I’d like to see it.”
My lips roll inward, and despite my immediate apprehension, I nod.
“Uh, yeah. Okay.”
He smiles before clapping me on the thigh gently and then rising off the couch. I watch, a little dumbstruck, as he makes his way over to the bar where all the food is laid out, chatting up Cam’s dad, Brian, while making himself a plate. Part of me can’t believe that just happened, and an even larger portion of me wonders if anything will come of it.
But, either way, the effort has to count for something. He may not understand what I do—or me, in general—but he’s trying, and that’s more than he’s ever done before.
Cam’s mom, Laura, notices me getting up, and I offer her a wave before heading over to one of the empty seats overlooking the rink, making a mental note to bring this conversation up to Cam later. I’d love to know what was said to prompt the breakthrough.
Though, regardless of the hows or whys, it does make me glad I didn’t take my wonderful fiancé’s suggestion on making this new story about the two of us. God knows I don’t need my parents seeing all the sordid details of how we got to where we are today. Or Laura, who has taken quite an interest in my art as well.
Of course, not creating a full-fledged story based on the two of us doesn’t stop me from drawing little scenes out for him as gifts.Privateones he refers to as his own little episodes, which is both hilarious and not totally inaccurate. I usually hide one in his duffle when he’s about to leave for a stint of away games, or sometimes I’ll add them into gifts for holidays and his birthday, since he loves them so much.
Or I’ll give him one on random special occasions, like tonight, for example. If he brings home this trophy, I have a very special one waiting for him: the dick-copter episode.
I just hope it goes better than the last special occasion a few weeks ago—the day I attempted to propose. Emphasis onattempted,because the sweet, lovable jackass he is…he beat me to the punch.
I’d been working out how to ask Cam to marry me for weeks and finally decided the right moment was the night before he was supposed to leave for the Finals. I dideverythingright, making a reservation at the restaurant in the Grand Shoreline, intending to lure him out onto the terrace that holds so many memories for us—both good and bad. I drew it all out too; spent God knows how many hours with my pen scribbling against paper trying to get it just right.
But as the saying goes, even the best laid plans go awry, and Cam made sure of it.
Of course, as soon as I saw him drop to one knee on the terrace, I was done for, and that was before he started talking about how much he loves me, how he’s the happiest he’s ever been, only to make me an offer I could never refuse.
“You’ve despised your last name since you were a kid, so if you’ll allow me, I’d love to give you a new one.”
There was no way I could be upset after a moment like that.
And the look on his face when I pulled out a ring of my own? Well, that was fucking priceless. My lips twitch just thinking about it, even now, as I drop into the empty seat between Lexi and Cam’s brother, Marcus.
I feel my best friend’s gaze boring into me like lasers, and I try to school my features but to no avail.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Logan Reed smiling during a hockey game? Someone better take a picture to commemorate the moment.”
I glance over and flip her off, but she just shoves my hand away with a laugh.
“Stop being a dickhead and put that thing away.”
“You’re the one making snide comments andI’mthe dickhead?”
“Uh, yeah. Obviously.” She smirks, cocking her head. “And if you thought I’d miss out on a chance to poke fun at you for actuallywatchingthe game like the rest of us, you don’t know your best friend very well.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter with an eyeroll. “How’re our guys looking?”
Our guysis still such a weird statement to me, despite her joining the WAG ranks with me earlier this season. Even with her so clearly sporting a red and goldSullivanjersey, it’s still a bit hard to wrap my mind around her and Sully being together. Not because of the age difference, but just because…I never would’ve imagined it.
