Page 179 of If You Claim Me

We pick up our backstage passes and head to our front-row seats. Mildred spends the next two hours belting out lyrics and kissing my jaw, neck, and cheek. Her joy is everything I needed today, and I vow all over again to do everything in my power to keep her happy, and to treat her with the love and respect she deserves, even when everything in me is hurting and raw and angry.

After the concert, we’re ushered to the private room with all the other backstage pass holders.

“Connor Grace!” the lead singer shouts as the rest of the band follows him into the room. “I thought they were bullshitting when they said you had backstage passes!”

He comes over to us, taking my hand in his. “You’re having a killer season.”

“It’s been a good one,” I agree.

“Can I get a photo?” he asks.

“Absolutely, as long as my wife can get a picture with you and the band.”

Mildred is practically glowing.

“Shit, yeah, of course.” He turns to Mildred and extends his hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Her smile lights up the entire room.

The lead singer looks around, like he’s finally cluing in that we’re not the only people in the room. “Hey, all!” He waves, then points to me. “This is Connor Grace, hockey legend.”

“The original villain,” Mildred says cheekily.

We take photos with the band, and a few of the other backstage pass holders request photos with me. Mildred is absolutely beaming as the band makes their rounds, giving everyone some attention.

“I have something special for them to sign.” I pull a small hardbound book from my pocket and pass it to her.

“What is this?” She runs her hand over the cover and flips it open. Her mouth drops open. “A book of their lyrics? Where did you get this?”

I want to bottle the wonder in her eyes and carry it with me always.

“I had it bound for you. It’s one of a kind,” I explain. “Fee helped me with it.” She’s a crafty one.

“This is unbelievable.” She throws her arms around my neck. “You’re unbelievable.”

I fold her into my embrace and revel in how good it feels to make her smile.

Mildred is buzzing on the drive home, the signed book of lyrics hugged to her chest. “This is the coolest, most thoughtful date I’ve ever been on.”

“I’m glad.” I needed her to know I pay attention, and not justbecause her happiness was tied to Meems, but because her joy is my joy.

I pull into the temporary parking spot at the front of her building. I don’t want tonight to end. I don’t want to go home, where she isn’t, and wake up alone.

Mildred slides her fingers between mine and curls them around my hand. “You should park in the underground and come up.”

My lack of honesty is what tore us apart. I won’t let it happen again. “I want you to come home.”

She lifts my hand so my palm rests against her cheek. “I want that, too.”

“So let’s go.”

“Dewey is in my apartment, and I have to work in the morning, so I won’t be able to come back and feed him.”

“Flip could do it, or I could stop by before or after practice and pick him up.”

“Either of those are possibilities.”

I hear thebutin her voice. “We can just go up and get him now,” I suggest.