Now I have something more.
Someone who sees past the goals and the stats and the highlights. Who knows me and chooses me anyway.
Someone who pushes me to be a better friend when I’d rather hide from the hard stuff.
We might lose everything we’ve worked for. Luca might be done for the season. Zach might get pulled. We might not make it past the first round.
But tonight, I have her.
And no matter what happens with game six, no matter how this season ends, I know one thing for certain:
I’m going to marry that woman.
Not someday. Not eventually.
Soon.
Because life’s too short and hockey’s too uncertain and I’m done waiting for perfect timing.
EPILOGUE: JULIETTE
July - Toronto
The hotel roomhas floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
We’re back in Toronto. Not for a game this time, not for anything except us.
Summer before my grad program starts. Before he has to report back for training camp. A week of just being together with no pressure, no schedule, no responsibilities except each other.
Romeo’s in the shower. I’m standing at the window watching the city lights, wearing nothing but his t-shirt.
Playoffs are over. I’m not thinking about how they ended. Not thinking about what comes next for the team. Right now it’s just us.
The bathroom door opens. He emerges in just a towel with wet hair and stops when he sees me.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi yourself.” He crosses to me and runs his hands up my sides. “You planning on wearing actual clothes to dinner?”
“Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.”
“We have reservations in an hour.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
“Is it?” His hands slide under the shirt. “Because I’m thinking we might be late.”
I open my mouth to reply but he kisses me, cutting off whatever protest I was about to make.
“We’re definitely going to be late,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“I’m okay with that.”
He walks me backward toward the bed. I pull his towel off and he pulls his shirt over my head and he works his way down my body, taking his time, making me squirm.
“We’re going to miss our reservation.”
“Don’t care.” He’s pressing kisses up my body. Shoulder, neck, jaw. “You’ll be my dinner.”
