Page 117 of Put a Rink on It

nero

Marina devours three cookies. Not because she feels she should, given the time and love put into them, but because she loves them. I literally almost vomit at the thought of putting one in my mouth. Instead, I focus on the love radiating from her, the glow I’ve missed for the past five days, the woman who I can’t live without.

Our relationship started because of my big mouth, but it’s ending in a way I couldn’t have predicted—marrying my best friend, who also happens to be the love of my life.

Perhaps I owe Dad and Kaitlyn an apology for not believing them. Hell, even Schurbatski knew something was up years ago. He helped set me straight.

“Nero, it’s time to add the flour.” A child’s voice breaks into my thoughts. I glance over at Aubrey, her innocent face not exasperated in the slightest.

I shake out of my stupor. “Is my job the flour?”

“Yep.” She nods and holds out her hand. “You have to come to the table.”

I don’t hesitate to fit my hand around hers and let her lead me.

Marina and I have been at Walsh and Tate’s for over an hour, a flurry of action in the kitchen as we pitch in and bake dozens of cookies. I can’t keep track of who’s who of Tate’s friends—except for Sydney because she had a hand in helping me win back my girl—nor who the other two girls who aren’t Aubrey and Lennon belong to, though one is named Olive, which is perfectly fitting for the day.

“Love your apron, Champ,” Marina coos in my ear. I don’t have to peek down to see she’s referring to the “Cookies are a food group” apron.

“Lennon wouldn’t give up the hockey one. This seemed fitting.”

“Marina, where did you find a guy who’s useful in the kitchen? I love Walsh and he’s great at a lot of things, but the kitchen isn’t one of them.” She looks toward Millie. “No offense. I know you’ve tried.” Millie shrugs.

“I take lessons.” A half-dozen pairs of eyes point my way.

“Willingly?” one of them asks. I think her name starts with an L.

“Well, yeah. How else was I going to eat?”

“Takeout.”

“A personal chef.”

“Meal delivery service.”

“I do those too, but it was something new I wanted to try when I moved to Connecticut.”

“Oh, he’s a keeper, Marina.”

Marina walks to me, snaking her arms behind my back. “Even if he sucked in the kitchen, he’d still be a keeper.”

“Aww, thanks, Ships.” I drop a kiss on her forehead. “I’m gonna keep you for the rest of my life.”

“Enough of the sap, you two,” Juliet protests. “We’re here to bake cookies, not for the Marina and Nero show.”

“Speak for yourself,” Millie states. “I’m subscribing to every season of this show. I’ve waited long enough.”

“Hey,” Marina expresses. “How was I supposed to know the best friend I’ve ever had was more than that? That a boy I met in college would one day be my fake-turned-real fiancé?”

My chuckle releases, long and deep. Mostly at the way she tosses the words at her mom, but more so because they’re true.

I gather her tighter in my arms, the feel of her weight right. Like she’s mine. The way we fit together in all the ways, the uncomplicated relationship we share, she was always supposed to be mine. I’m glad we figured it out before we married other people instead of each other.

“I don’t know what I did all those years ago to be worthy of your friendship, but I’m so glad I did. Love you, Ships.”

Lennon appears in the doorway, her apron discarded. “Any cookies ready yet?”

“Come back in ten minutes,” Aubrey tells her sweetly, not glancing up from her duty.