“Congratulations on making the playoffs,” I finally manage.
His face lights up. “Thanks, but I wish you'd been there.”
“I was there.”
Cole's eyes widen in shock. “What?”
“I was there, in the upper deck. I couldn't miss it. I had to see you play.” I smile through my tears. “You were incredible.”
“You were there,” he repeats, wonderment in his voice. “You came.”
Before I can respond, he's kissing me. Hard and desperate and full of weeks of pent-up longing. I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands fisting in his shirt, not caring that we're in a public space.
“It’s about fucking time!” a voice calls from behind me. “Go get a room!”
We break apart to see Nova grinning at us, clearly having overheard everything.
“Nova,” Cole warns, but there's no real heat in it.
“Do you have any idea how miserable this guy has been?” Nova continues, walking toward us with theatrical concern. “Worse than usual, which I didn't think was possible. He's been like a robot with a broken happiness chip.”
I laugh.
“Harper Hayes,” Nova continues dramatically, “I'm begging you. Never leave our captain again. He makes practice unbearable when he's brooding about his love life.”
“I promise,” I say, grinning at Cole's embarrassed expression. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Cole pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I'm never letting you go again.”
Standing there in the empty ballroom, surrounded by the remnants of the perfect event I created, wrapped in the arms of the man I love, I finally understand what Ariel meant. I don't have to choose between love and independence. I can have both.
I can be Harper Hayes, a successful businesswoman, and the woman Cole Maddox loves. They're not mutually exclusive; they're both parts of who I am.
“Let’s go home,” Cole whispers in my ear. “I can’t wait to have you to myself.” He takes my arm and steers me out.
“And what will you do to me?” I ask as I slip into his car.
“Everything, Harper Hayes. Everything,” Cole says, sliding in beside me.
Epilogue
NOVAK
I lean against the arena wall, watching Cole wrap his arms around Harper like she's the most precious thing in the world. The way he's holding her, like he can't quite believe she's real, it's nauseating. And fascinating.
Who would have thought? Cole, the robot, the guy who meal-preps his emotions and schedules his spontaneity, found his person. His ice-cold heart apparently has a defrost setting, and Harper Hayes found the switch.
Something twists in my chest watching them. Not jealousy exactly. I'm Liam fucking Novak, and I don't get jealous of anyone. But there's this weird ache, like watching something I never knew I wanted until I saw someone else having it.
I shake it off. Some people are built for that mushy romantic bullshit. Others are built to score goals and look good doing it. I know which category I fall into, and I'm perfectly happy there.
Besides, we made the playoffs, baby. Time to party.
Three days later, I'm strutting into the PR office like I own the place. Because let's be honest, after the performance I put on in our first playoff win, two goals and an assist, I basically do own this place.
“Novak,” Jennifer McCall says, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. “Congratulations on the win. You played beautifully.”
“I know,” I grin, dropping into the chair and putting my feet up on her desk. “What can I say? I'm a natural-born superstar.”
