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And then the first seeds of yet another elaborate scheme start to grow in my head. “I could go to him,” I think out loud. Then I shake my head. “Nah, that’s clingy, right?”

“Do it,” Nils says. “That’s so romantic.”

I press my eyebrows together. “You think so?”

Silja is amused, but she nods. “Yeah, he might appreciate you visiting him if it isn’t too far for you.”

Nils jumps in. “Do it. Drive there now.”

“Okay, you convinced me. I’ll go.” Setting my phone down, I open my laptop and search for flights to Minneapolis. There’s one at 11:30 a.m. today, and it’s cheap enough if I use points, so I book it. Getting from the airport to the camp is something I’ll think about when I arrive.

“Guys, I booked my flight to see Erik!” I announce to Nils and Silja’s confused faces.

“Flight?” Silja asks.

“Yeah, of course, I’m not about to drive for fifteen hours or however long it takes.”

Nils breaks into a smile. “So you’re flying all the way to see Erik,” he says. “I had a good feeling about you. You’re smart.”

Silja laughs at that and leans against Nils’s shoulder, leaving me confused, but I can ask questions later. “It’s been great talking to you, but I need to pack. That flight leaves in three hours.”

“Good luck, Luke,” Nils says before ending the call, and then I kick myself into action.

My brain works on autopilot all the way through finding one of my old phones so I can lend it to Erik, packing my luggage, and taking the train to the airport.

The sheer insanity of what I’m doing only catches up to me at check-in when the agent asks me why I’m traveling, and why I booked a last-minute ticket.

“ To hand-deliver the best news of my life so far to my boyfriend, ” I think, staring blankly back at the agent.

“Oh, one of my friends is coaching at a hockey camp in Minneapolis, and my vacation request to visit him only got approved this morning,” is what I say instead. Technically, none of that is a lie.

The agent doesn’t blink, and I head through security and US Preclearance before pulling up to my gate as soon as boarding begins. Once I take my seat, I release a deep breath.

I am so fucking insane.

Erik won’t freak out, right? He was apprehensive when I suggested visiting him—he likes things to be equal, but he’s dating me, so that’s tough for him.

In my mind, he put up with my chaotic planning for the past three months, so another short, inexpensive trip to see him won’t tip the scales.

I’m doing it because I care, and because I love the guy to bits.

Hold up.

I love Erik to bits.

Hell yeah I do. Talk about a no-brainer—he’s gotta be the most lovable guy I know.

All the way through taxi, takeoff, and landing, I’m smiling into my hand. I can’t help myself.

God, I love him.

We pull up to the gate, and my fingers hover over my seatbelt as the lead flight attendant activates the announcement system.

“Welcome to Minneapolis. Cabin crew, arm doors and crosscheck.”

Ha. Crosscheck. I’m fine with hearing that on a plane, but on the ice? That’s a different story.

As soon as the doors open, I’m in the aisle. Inching forward, I follow everyone in front of me off the plane, and once I’m out, I march straight to the light rail station, get on the train, and sit myself down. A couple of stops later, I dart out, follow my map directions, and then I’m there.

The camp is being held in a nondescript university ice rink next to a massive mall, but it’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all day.

Right as I’m about to walk in, I remember that I have to talk my way through security and explain my backpack and roller bag.

I’ll say they’re Erik’s. That should work, right?

Maybe.

The receptionist scrutinizes me with clear suspicion when I walk up to him.

“Hi, I have a delivery for…” I pretend to check my phone, “Erik Norberg. Air Sweden lost his bag when he flew over two days ago, and he listed… here as his address in the US?” I do my best to feign confusion at delivering lost luggage to a university building.

“He didn’t inform us of any incoming delivery.”

Okay, time to be bold. “I get it, but I’m just doing my job. That isn’t my problem.”

“He needs to inform us of the delivery before we can accept anything for him,” the guy says.

“Look, I have another ten bags in my truck outside, and I’m expected to deliver them by the end of today. Can someone go to Erik now and tell him that he has a delivery? If he isn’t expecting anything, he can send them back and you can send me away.”

Two sighs later, the receptionist summons another employee from the back and whispers something to her, and then the new employee turns to me.

“Okay, I’ll find Erik and tell him about this delivery,” she says, walking toward the door that leads to the rink.

“Thank you so much. Oh, also, you need to tell him my name so he can check it against the confirmation email.”

She spins around. “Makes sense, what’s your name?”

“Luke Tremblay.”

“Okay, got it. Delivery for Erik Norberg from Luke Tremblay. I’ll only be a minute.”

Oh my god, it worked. They’re actually getting Erik.

My heart pounds. I have no idea what Erik is gonna say, but I know what I will.