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“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. Just thinking you could move to Dallas.”

She tilts her head backward. “You’re as worried as I am.” Her voice is laced with concern.

“No, beautiful, I’m not worried. I’m thinking out loud. You just never talk about your work except when it was about Oakley and Corbin.” I press a firm kiss to her upper arm. “You seemed so happy when we were doing cheer stunts or jumping on the trampoline. Do you dream of doing anything else other than law?”

She flips over to face me. “I haven’t thought of it. I went through college and law school, so I became an attorney. Do you dream of anything other than hockey?”

“I want to be a chef when it’s all over. I mean, no one will hire me, so I’ll have to open my own restaurant.”

“That’s amazing. I know you can grill but can you cook, cook?”

“When you come to see me in Dallas, we can take a cooking class for couples. I’d love to learn on my off days.”

She scratches out a laugh. Her bright blue eyes appear navy in the semi-dark room. “Hockey players don’t have off days.”

“If it’s important to them, they make time for the people they love and for what they love.” Becca circles one arm around my back. “And I love you, Becca.”

“I love you.”

She nuzzles her head under my chin and when her breathing pattern assures me she’s asleep, my words are barely more than a breath. “Fight for me, babe.”

Maybe subconsciously, I’m trying to convince her to fight for us. Not to let external factors keep us apart.

My alarm is one minute from going off, but I shut it off, so it doesn’t wake my sleeping beauty. Slipping out of bed and into the shower, my brain can’t stop mining every possibility that could happen between us. I sling a towel around my hips and walk out to the bedroom. Becca is awake and taking my things from a drawer and putting them in my suitcase. Yeah, I didn’t want to waste a single minute of my time with her, so I delayed packing.

She hears my feet slapping against the hardwood floor and turns slowly, pulling out a box… a velvet box. Fuck.

Holding it between her thumb and forefinger, her head lifts, and her questioning eyes collide with mine. Panic sets in. I know what it is, but she has no idea the ring was for Stella. Or maybe she does when her eyes fill with tears.

“Becca.” I step into her, invading her personal space, and she steps back, walking into the dresser.

With a dismissive wave, she says, “Don’t say my name when you came to this island ready to ask Stella to marry you.” She slurps up a tear that has fallen over her lips and into her mouth.

“No, I didn’t.”

Studying the elegant domed box, she says with a sarcastictone, “Well, you bought it at Rivarro’s Diamonds in Los Angeles.” She flashes the top where the store name is imprinted in the velvet. “So, considering you brought Stella, and you bought an engagement ring in LA, the evidence points to the only logical conclusion—you intended on proposing to her. A woman you say you didn’t love.”

She crosses her arms over her waist, staring off into the distance, tapping her short pink toes against the bamboo floor.

“Babe, you’ve got it all wrong, although you lay out a very good case. But it’s a good thing you practice inheritance law and not family law.”

Her eyes narrow, practically spitting venom. “Tell me, Basilio, what do I have wrong?” Her using Basilio only means one thing, she’s upset.

I sit on the bed, pushing my luggage aside, and reach for her hands. Reluctantly, she lets me curl her fingers into mine. I pull her between my legs and hope she’ll believe me.

“My dad bought the ring. I had never laid eyes on it until I met him in Los Angeles. Stella and I flew directly here. I had nowhere to keep it. Should I have rented a locker at the airport and put a thirty-thousand-dollar ring inside?” I blow out a harsh breath. “My dad told me that I WOULD ask Stella to marry me on this trip.”

She snaps, “What do you mean he told you and he bought it?”

“He bought the ring and for the life of me, I haven’t figured out why he wants me to marry her so bad when he was… or is having sex with her. I shoved the ring in my carry on and had no intention of following through on my dad’s demand. Ever.”

Becca seems to soften, but I can see her doing mental gymnastics in her head. And Becca overanalyzing a situation has never been a good idea; she wouldn’t have married Dennis if she didn’t overthink dating athletes. Dating me. Did she have a good reason? Yes, but we could have been happy for the past decade.

“I’ve crushed on you since I was a sophomore in college. Youknow that. I was happy when Stella accidentally blurted out that she had been having an affair with my dad. It gave me a clean break—for good. No more pretending to even like her. Stella didn’t care about me either. She cared about her social media. And I guess my dad does too. Do you believe me?”

“I guess.”