Page 23 of Put a Rink on It

“Without traffic, it’s a little under two hours.”

“Still. Four hours seems like a lot of driving for breakfast. I don’t care what you say. That man is into you,” Juliet presses, not letting the subject go.

“He’s not,” I lie. After the past few days, it sounds less convincing.

Not that he’s into me, but the kiss he left on my forehead has played on repeat. It wasn’t even romantic, and it was for the waitress’s sake, to sell a story, but still. The butterflies in my stomach have been on high alert.

“Whatever.”

“When’s he coming back?” Ma asks, slicing the bread.

“He, um, didn’t say.”

“When are you going to Connecticut?”

“What? Who said I was?” My response is too defensive, and three sets of eyes challenge me.

“You’re not going to visit him? Go see a game? Heck, Hunter and I plan to get there sometime soon.”

“Walsh and Lennon, too,” Tate adds. “He’s already got tickets, and she’s got her outfit picked out. Let’s hope they’re not playing Minnesota ‘cause she’ll be dressed for the opponent.” Tate giggles.

“I’m sure we can get her Nautilus gear.”

“Yes, the girl needs more hockey jerseys,” Walsh says dryly as he enters the kitchen. He dips Tate backward, leaving a kiss on her lips. Young love. Sickeningly sweet. Tate leans into the kiss, her cheeks pinking slightly. “Heya, Marina.”

“Baby bro. How goes it?”

“Swell. Yourself?” He swipes a piece of pepper from the tray, shoveling it into his mouth.

“I have little complaints at the moment. Heard you’re going to a Nautilus game. Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Oh, can you get us into the WAGs suite? Much as I don’t want to spoil my kid, I’d earn Dad of the Year for that one.”

“As if you aren’t Dad of the Year already,” Tate mutters.

“I’m not sure I qualify as a wife or girlfriend.”

At least not yet. Not until I’ve got the ring and can share the news.

Gah, this is so hard. I can’t keep talking about Nero or the team and keep a straight face. The secret claws its way up my throat to be unleashed.

“In case anyone was wondering, we’re exactly one hundred days out from our wedding.” Juliet’s smile is blinding, as it should be.

Thank you, Juliet, for changing the subject. Even if it’s to another dangerous one, at least it will take some of the heat off me.

“It’ll be here before we know it,” I mumble.

In all the thinking and planning I’ve done, I forgot my sister was getting married this year.

Oh, and my brother.

Because why not?

Perhaps Nero’s and my upcoming nuptials will have to wait until next year. It would give us time to settle into a life before we “rush” into marriage.

As if we’re not doing exactly that. Only, ours won’t be real.

Juliet rubs her hands together. “My first fitting is coming up. I can’t wait to try the dress on again. Tate, have you found your dress yet?”