Page 6

FIVE

mr. & mrs. hockey forever

MIKHAIL

W hile driving over to Misfit Inked in downtown Vegas with a plan in mind for my tattoo artist, I can’t help but think back to yesterday when I came home from morning skate and found Reagan on a Zoom call with Zoya. The two of them were sharing pictures on a bridal website and chattering away like old friends when I overheard Zoya retell how Tyler rented an ice rink in Saint Petersburg at Christmastime, had her whole family there, and even arranged a bunch of other romantic shit of painted ice and bouquets of roses when he proposed to her.

Reagan agreed it looked magical when she watched the video Tyler asked Scarlett to make of the whole thing. I saw it too. I must admit it was pretty good for someone like Lockhardt to arrange. That dude has really grown emotionally in the last five years. Anxiety creeps in as I realize I have to come up with something just as good for Reagan. She deserves nothing less than what Tyler did for Zoya. I’m really starting to feel the pressure now.

Victorine, the tattoo artist who's been responsible for most of my ink, greets me with a grin when I step into the shop.

“Long time, no see, dude.” She eyes me curiously with her lemon-yellow dyed hair and round, thick glasses. “What brings you in here to see me today?”

“Hey, Victorine, I need your artful hand with a special project.”

“Ooh, color me intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

I take a deep breath and explain my idea of the words “Mr. & Mrs. Hockey forever” over my heart in a superhero-looking font busting out in an explosion.

“Are you proposing to Reagan with this?”

“Well yeah, it’s part of my plan, yes, but I still have to find the right time and place to show it to her after you ink it on me though.”

“Wow, I am clearly touched, Mikhail. That’s so sweet. You look through the fonts for something that speaks to you, and I’ll start sketching out a rough design.”

As she sketches out my vision, we talk about different settings for the perfect time and place to ask Reagan to marry me. I trust Victorine because she’s always had a keen sense of what people will love.

“Have you thought about asking her at the top of the LINQ?” she suggests. “The view is incredible, and it's such a quintessential Vegas spot.”

“Probably something a lot less public. Like maybe during one of our hikes in the hills.” I try to imagine taking Reagan to one of our favorite spots in nature.

“Or what about at Cal and Billie's upcoming engagement party? That could be fun and unexpected.”

As much as I appreciate her input, none of them feel right. They're great ideas, but they don’t seem good enough for Reagan.

“Thanks for talking me through it, Victorine, but I'll keep thinking.”

“Of course, Mikhail. Just remember that whatever you choose, it'll be perfect because it's coming from you. Reagan will love whatever you plan regardless.”

As I leave Misfit Inked with my next tat designed and an appointment in the books to have it done, I feel good about it even if the perfect proposal is still to be determined. Just like I'm equally determined to create a memorable moment for the love of my life, no matter what it takes.

Stepping off the ice after a particularly brutal practice, my muscles aching and sweat dripping down my face, my phone buzzes in my pocket as I trudge towards the locker room. I pull it out to see “Jerry Roy” displayed on the screen.

“Hey, Jerry,” I answer, trying to catch my breath.

“Good news. The owner will accept your offer, but there's a catch—they need to close escrow by the tenth of the month. Think you can swing that?”

I pause for a moment, considering the implications. That's an incredibly quick escrow, and I know I should probably talk to Reagan about it. But with everything going on with her mom right now, the upcoming surgery, and moving Audrey from Columbus to Vegas, I don't want to add more stress to her plate. Especially since she’ll feel inadequate about not being able to contribute equally to the finances.

“Let's do it, Jerry. And both our names are going on the title.”

“Are you sure? That's a big step, especially if you haven't discussed it with Reagan yet.”

“Trust me, this is what we both want. We're in this together, and I know she loved the house from the pictures I showed her. Let's make it happen.”

“I'll get the ball rolling then. Congratulations, Mikhail, you’ve just bought your first house.”

I lean against the wall, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety after ending the call. If Reagan and I were married, this wouldn't even be an issue. Married people buy houses together all the time, with both of their names on the title deed. It just makes me even more impatient to propose to her and make our commitment to each other official and legal.

As I scroll through the photos of the house on my phone, I imagine how our life together will change there. In a good way of course. Waking up next to each other in that huge master suite to striking mountain views in the mornings, cooking dinner together in the evenings in that sleek, gourmet kitchen, and cuddling under a blanket in front of the outdoor fireplace while waiting for falling stars to make wishes on. It's a future I desperately want for us.

This marriage proposal can't come soon enough.

I head into the locker room to shower resolving to find the perfect way to propose to Reagan, whether it's at the top of the LINQ, during a hike out in the hills, or at Cal and Billie's engagement party. And once we're engaged, we can finally move forward with our future together, starting with a new home in Summerlin.

As I strip off my gear and step under the hot spray of the shower, I let the water wash away my lingering doubts and anxiety about purchasing a house in secret. Reagan is my everything, and I know that no matter how I ask her to marry me, she'll say yes. Because we’re already strong enough to overcome any obstacle, and we'll build a future together that's even more beautiful than the house we're about to call home.