I feel him take one long breath, then another, and then, like the reformed man he's pretending to be, he steps back, adjusts himself in his suit pants with zero shame, and turns me by the hips.
"So, the speech…" His fingers find my zipper and draw it back up, slow, sealing me back into the dress like he's gift-wrapping something he plans to open later. He presses a single kiss to my bare shoulder. "Did you choose the one I wrote for you?"
"Absolutely not," I say, spinning to face him. "Your speech had the closing line of 'let's puck this town up.'"
"It's a great line."
"Perhaps if I were trying to initiate a riot."
Declan grins. "Alright. So which one then?"
"I'm going with the simple one." I turn back to the mirror, checking my second eye, which has miraculously matched the first. "Thank the fans, thank the team, cry a little and walk off before I say something unhinged into a live microphone."
"No mention of me?"
"You get a nod. A generic, professional nod along with all your teammates."
"Gee, thanks." He steps closer, and the bathroom suddenly feels smaller. His hand finds my waist, thumb tracing slow over gold silk. "I liked being your one night of reckless mistake better."
"That was one night. This is a new night." I glance at my phone again, still no text. "And my mother could land at any minute, which means I need every single hair on my head to cooperate, and I need you to stop looking at me like you're an appetizer I'm about to skip dinner for."
"You'll be fine. And tomorrow—" he turns me back around, tips my chin up to meet his eyes. "—you sell out that arena. Youshow your mother exactly who her daughter is. And then no more secrets."
"No more secrets," I echo, and the words feel like standing at the top of a very tall diving board.
He kisses my forehead and grabs my speech cards off the counter, shuffling through them.
"'Tonight we celebrate not just a team'—Josie, this is terrible. Are you sure this is the one?"
"Give me those." I snatch the stack back, check myself one more time in the mirror, and head for the door. "Now get out. We're going to be late."
He smacks my ass on the way out the door, then we ride down in the same elevator because we're rebels. When the doors open on the lobby, he hangs back in the corner like a gorgeous secret.
"Go," he says. "I'll meet you at the party, two minutes late. You know, for appearances."
"For appearances," I agree, smiling.
The doors start to close between us, and the last thing I see is Declan Morrison in a charcoal suit, mouthingyou've got thisat me.
By the time I reach the boardwalk, it has become an entire world out of a dream I didn't know I was allowed to have.
It's a carnival. A hockey-inspired festival of fun.
"Wow," I say, moving towards the end of the pier, my gown gently dragging across the boardwalk beneath the string lights. "This is amazing."
The carousel spins at full glory at the pier's end, its carved horses and one controversial hockey-helmeted bear glowingunder carnival bulbs. There's a line of shrieking kids stretching thirty deep for the free rides already. The band on the small stage is halfway through a surf-rock cover, and thesmell.
Rico's carnitas are caramelizing on the flat-top inside his food truck, and across from him some waffle cones are pressing sweet and golden at the ice cream stand.
There's blue and gold everywhere. From the tiny jerseys on toddlers and the endless balloons set in clusters, all the way to the glittering streamers and lights showcasing all the hard work I've done. There's even a golden retriever in an adorable Bears bandana strutting his adorable fluff around the pier.
The entire town is here.
I did this.
I move through the crowd, and right behind that thought is the one I've been thinking about all week.Dad would've loved this.He'd be at Rico's truck right now with hot sauce on his shirt, telling strangers his daughter planned all of this. He'd be the Bears biggest fan, I just know it.
"JOSIE!" Rico waves a taco at me from his window like a torch. "Best night of my LIFE! Your little friend—" he points across the crowd at Beck, who is at a picnic table with an entire tray of tacos, "—he lost the salsa bet again!"
