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“If it’s here all month, we should come back with the kids next week.”

At this point, it shouldn’t surprise me that he always seems to be thinking of Caitlin and James, that he actually wants them around. The fact that it’s so foreign to me says a lot. But I wouldn’t be here with him, on a date, if he didn’t love my kids as loudly as he does. And if they didn’t love him back.

“Let’s do it. I’m not working on Monday, and they don’t have school next week. I bet they’d love to skate.”

Killian eyes the rink warily. “Is it safe?”

I can’t help but laugh at the way he wrinkles his nose. “Why wouldn’t it be safe? It’s just frozen water. You’ve never skated?” He shakes his head. “Damn. I think that’s a crime in Canada, actually. We better change that.”

I tug him toward the rink and his eyes widen.

“Now?”

“You want the first time to be with two little kids skating circles around you?”

“I suppose it would be pretty fucking embarrassing to fall on my ass in front of them. I don’t want to lose all the cool points I’ve earned,” he says, still frowning at the rink.

“Exactly. Come on. I won’t let you fall.”

Since it’s a weeknight, the rink isn’t busy—a few couples, some teenagers, and a man holding some kind of poodle are circling the ice. As kids, we spent a lot of time at our nearest indoor rink. Piper’s older brother has been playing hockey since before Piper and I were born, and Landon played for a few years. It’s been a long time since I skated, but, like line dancing, it’s like riding a bike, and I feel right at home when my blades touch the ice.

Killian, on the other hand, is as pale as the snow sprinkling down on us. He clings to the wall, watching warily as people skate past us. It’s adorable.

“Here, take my hands,” I say, offering them to him. “Hold on to me.”

“Can’t,” he replies, through gritted teeth, like he’s fighting for his life to stay on his feet.

I don’t think he’d appreciate me laughing at him right now, but it’s a struggle not to. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to make you fall.”

It’s a little too late for that. The thought crosses my mind before I have time to overthink it, and I’m not going to let it make me spiral and ruin our night. Instead, I take a deep breath and reach for Killian’s hands myself, peeling his vise-grip from the wall.

“Falling is a part of skating. Besides, that’s like the ultimate rom-com moment,” I say, slowly drawing him toward me. He wobbles, but stays upright.

“The ultimate … What does that mean?”

“Look at me, not your feet,” I instruct, and he lifts his head. A single errant curl flops in front of his face, and I’d reach up and brush it out of the way if I didn’t think he’d panic at me letting go of him. “Have you never seen a skating montage in a holiday rom-com? Where the couple ends up lying together on the ice, tangled up in each other, looking up at the stars? One of them would say something like, ‘It’s so beautiful,’ and the other would be like, ‘Yeah, it is,’ but they’d be looking at the other person, not the stars.”

“That does sound romantic.” He looks less nervous now he’s focusing on me, rather than the ice.

“It’s a shame,” I say, and his brows draw together, his cheeks and the tip of his nose pink from the cold.

“What’s a shame?”

I pull him into the candy-cane-striped circle painted in the middle of the rink. “That we won’t get to do it, because you’re not going to fall. You’re skating, Kill.”

His eyes widen as he looks over his shoulder and realizes how far from the wall we are, a surprised laugh bubbling from him. “How the hell did you make that so easy?”

“It’s not me. It’s you and the completely unfair ‘good at everything’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“Except French,” he points out with a grin that makes my stomach dip.

He drops my hands, only to grip my waist and pull me into him, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his forehead to mine. “For the record, love, I don’t need a rom-com moment to tell you you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You put every star in the sky to shame, and I love being here with you. This is the best date I’ve ever had.”

I swallow, feeling raw, and vulnerable, and cherished, and seen under his gaze.

“Me too,” I say, but my mind flashes back, sticking on Killian’s words from earlier: