Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Our life.
When his gaze meets mine, contentment blooms in my chest.
“Are you okay?” he mouths.
I nod. The truth is, I’m more than okay. And it has everything to do with the quiet man watching me with love shining in his eyes. His presence alone has the power to steady me.
He crosses the room and rests his hand on the back of the chair, fingers brushing my shoulder as he looks down at the baby. “Has he been sleeping long?”
“About fifteen minutes,” I whisper.
Still humming, Elody scoots closer before peering up at us. “He likes it when Mommy rocks him,” she says. “It makes him calm.”
I smile at her. “You’re absolutely right. It does.”
Laiken’s hand slides lower until it rests against the baby’s back. I glance around the room, absorbing every detail, wanting to lock it away. There’s a crib waiting for when Logan’s older, a neat stack of diapers on the dresser, and Elody’s drawings taped crookedly to the wall so the baby can see them when he’s being changed. It’s all evidence of a life being lived.
Of a family flourishing.
Then there’s the man beside me. The one who chose us—not out of obligation or duty, but because he understood we belonged here. That we didn’t disrupt his life.
We completed it.
Emotion swells in my chest, and I pull the baby a little closer as memories rush in. I think about standing in the bathroom in my apartment and staring at a pregnancy test with two pink lines. About the fear and doubt that crashed over me. How impossible this future once felt, and how convinced I was that I wouldn’t get it right.
Slowly, I let that version of myself fade away, making room to embrace my new reality.
“I love you,” I whisper, my hand pressed to my son’s tiny back, Laiken’s bigger one covering mine. “And I love the life we’ve created.”
“I love it too,” he murmurs. “And I love you… and our kids.”
In this man, I found my forever.
Just like he found his in me.
Epilogue
Evelyn
“Yes, that works—”
My voice cuts off when my office door opens without warning and Hugh strolls in.
Would it seriously kill the man to knock?
He pauses long enough at the threshold to acknowledge basic social norms before stepping inside, all long strides and quiet confidence, as if my office has always been his domain to enter. As if the years of resentment between us never existed.
“Evelyn?” Rina says through the phone. “Are you still there?”
My gaze stays pinned to Hugh. “Yes,” I reply, tone clipped. “But let me call you back.”
“Sure, no problem,” she says easily.
I end the call and lower my phone to the desk, deliberately taking my time. It gives me a much-needed moment to steady myself before reassembling the composure that always fractures the second Hugh enters my private space.
I lift my chin. “Can I help you?”
The smile he bestows on me isn’t the polished, media-friendly version he reserves for sponsors or league officials. It’s also not the one that wins over board members and donors with practiced ease.
This smile is quieter and far more dangerous because it’s genuine.
It hits me square in the chest because it’s the same one he gave me years ago, back when the world was simple, and I hadn’t yet learned how easily hope could be crushed. It’s the kind that slips past your defenses, finding the smallest crack in carefully reinforced armor. It does its damage before you even realize you’ve let your guard down.
I resist the instinct to look away.
Behind him, the rink glows through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a sheet of pristine ice stretching wide and empty. The Zamboni has already come and gone, leaving the surface smooth and lines crisp. It’s the calm before the noise.
I’ve spent more hours than I care to admit staring at that ice, measuring my life in practices and game days, in press disasters and last-minute negotiations, in the endless balancing act of keeping this franchise running smoothly. I haven’t even made it through half this season yet. There are far too many months remaining before we reach the end of the deal Hugh coerced me into.
My fingers curl against the edge of my desk as I continue studying him, acutely aware that nothing about his presence here is accidental. Hugh never does anything without ulterior motives.
“If you’re not busy,” he says, “I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
I lift a brow in surprise. “I’m sorry. Are you actually asking instead of demanding or just showing up uninvited?”
A corner of his mouth tips up as he shrugs. The smile that follows is sheepish. Almost boyish. And completely disarming. It sends an unwanted flutter through my chest, and my pulse betrays me before I can rein it in.
“I thought I’d try a different approach.”
That comment gets my attention. I’ve never known Hugh Landry to ask for anything. He negotiates. Strategizes. Persuades with patience and precision, waiting people out until they give him exactly what he wants. For him to stand in my office with his hands loose at his sides, shoulders relaxed, gaze steady, offering me a choice, is unfamiliar territory.