Page 157 of Heartbreak Hockey

“Right.” Jack and his family of kittens investigate the second box.

Once he’s set our new house guests up with water, food, and toys to play with, we move to dinner preparations that involve me cooking and Jack not cooking at all. But he does set the table and pull a couple of beers out of the fridge.

We’re in the middle of our meal when he slides out from the table suddenly. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to do something and I’m getting a feeling. Just stay here a sec, okay?” he says.

I nod with nerves of suspicion racking through my body. What is he up to?

He returns with a small box and my heart kicks into high gear. If he’s doing what I think he’s doing … well I didn’t think I’d give a fuck about being covered in baby vomit, wearing the same sweats I have been for three days, barefoot, and holding our child, but I do.

I don’t stop him, though, for several reasons. At the top of that list is the mischievous glint in his jade greens and I suspect that this isn’t what it looks like.

He gets on one knee and opens the box. Inside are two plain gold bands.

“Will you … wear this promise ring?”

Thank fucking God. My heart rate slows down. “Yes, you asshole.”

He laughs like a heckler and gets up, sliding one of the bands onto my left ring finger and then one onto his own. “Your face! You shoulda seen your face, Merc. Wish I’d recorded that.”

I scowl at him. “What’s the deal with this? Putting a ring on it?”

He laughs some more, but his brilliant, sunshine-y Jack laugh this time. “It’s just, we’re way more than boyfriends. Aside from the fact that we have a child, we feel like so much more. I wanna wait a bit for the whole marriage thing since we’ve already taken so many big steps, but I thought having this little concrete piece of metal might be nice for each of us to look at during the day. Y’know?”

I get that feeling again. Like I want to be closer to him. It’s a sensation I get all the time. We’re already so close, how do I get closer still?

Marveling at the ring on my finger, I love the simplicity. I can wear it on the ice and not have to worry about it getting beaten. It’ll get scratched, but that will only add life to it, not take it away. People will know I have a someone and they’ll know he has a someone when they look at his. Yeah, this does a lot for me.

“Yeah, I know,” I say.

“Besides, you’re asking me. I’m not asking you. I’ve always wanted to be proposedto. You’re gonna have to dream up that bit of romance, Mercy Meyer.”

Well, fuck. “Am I allowed to phone a friend for ideas?”

“No.” A kitten springs up on his lap. I have the baby again. He held Stanley and danced around the house with him, setting the table while I cooked dinner. Then I wanted him back.

After petting the kitten for a bit—pretty sure it’s the one called Beyoncé—he releases her to the kitchen wild and stands, tugging me to stand too, with our babe in the crook of my left arm.

“Merc, it can be someday, or it can be never. I’m so fucking happy just like this.”

“I call bullshit. You so wanna get married, Leslie.” I rest my forehead against his.

“Sue me. I want it to be a surprise.”

“I promise it will be. Maybe I’ll make you wait till you’re sixty.”

“Better fuckin’ not, Merc.”

I’ll be lucky if I can wait till next year, but it will be fun to make him think I can wait.

Epilogue

JACK

Iknow it’s only a dream. I’m at that cozy halfway point between asleep and awake. Fuck it though. I want to stay in this dream. Merc and I are fucking. Real, honest to God fucking like animals and it feels so good. So real. How do dreams feel so real? Know what? Don’t care. I don’t wanna ruin the magic and believe me, Merc’s dream dick is fucking magical.

A loud annoying ringing yanks me—in the most abrupt way possible—out of the sex fest with my partner and love of my life. How rude. It’s the doorbell. I keep saying, people need to fucking text before they come over.

Blindly, I reach for said love of my life hoping he’ll fend off the early morning interloper. God. What time is it, even? Fuck, eight am? Whomever it is should be tarred and feathered in the middle of the town’s square.