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SIX

stay with us. there’s plenty of room.

MIKHAIL

S tanding at the window, watching the city all lit up for the holidays, the perfect proposal idea still eludes me, and time is running out. Christmas will be here soon, and I’ll have the keys to the new house in two days.

The last few weeks have been busy with Reagan focused on work and helping her mom through a successful hip-replacement surgery and now the recovery process. She's been visiting Audrey at the rehab facility almost every day, unaware that it's only a short distance from the house I just bought. She senses something is going on, but she continues to be her supportive and loving self, making me want to ask her to marry me all the m?—

My phone rings and it's my father calling. I have no idea why since he usually only calls me after a game. No game today.

“Dad, what’s up?”

“Son, good evening. I am calling to tell you your mother would like the family to spend Christmas in Las Vegas this year, your sisters and Roman as well. We are aware your game schedule will not allow you to travel to Detroit for Christmas and your mother will be unhappy if we can’t all be together. She has also shared that Reagan is very busy helping her mother recovering from surgery. It will be easier this way for all.” His words are carefully chosen, and I can't help but notice he said “your mother” would like to spend Christmas in Las Vegas this year instead of “your mother and I.” But hey, at least he’s calling and asking for an invite. This is like the polar opposite of how our phone calls used to go a year ago. It’s also the last thing I ever expected him to ask me. I’ve been hoping they would come out here to stay with me for more than just a game for years. Looks like it’ll finally happen. Shocker.

“Of course. I'd love to have you all here for Christmas. It’ll be great.”

He proceeds to tell me they plan to stay in a hotel, but I quickly put an end to that idea.

“Well actually, I have some news to share with you. I just bought a house, and you can all stay there with us. There’s plenty of room. Tell Mom. I’ll send some pictures when we get off the phone.”

I can sense his surprise through his initial silence, but he recovers quickly. I’d pay money to see the look on his face right now. “Well, that's great news, Mikhail, congratulations. I look forward to seeing your pictures. We'll talk very soon about travel dates.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, Dad.”

I’m just hanging up with him when Reagan comes through the door from visiting her mom at rehab.

“Hey babe.” She smiles at me. “How are you? How was practice?”

“Good.” I smile back at her, trying to be casual. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s working hard exercising the new hip. Bound and determined to be sprung from rehab by Christmas so she can be with us.”

“Good…good.” I nod.

“Is everything okay though? Who were you talking to on the phone?” She tilts her head at me, still smiling but I can see the concern in her eyes. Reagan is always sharp. She observes everything and knows when I’m preoccupied. Just a little fucking much at the moment.

“Yeah.” I try to keep my voice steady. “Umm, that was my dad. My family's coming out to spend Christmas with us this year.”

“Wow, that's a surprise. But a good one, right?” She hugs me tightly, her excitement genuine. “I can't wait to see them all. It’s gonna be so fun.”

“Me too.” I hold her in my arms and breathe in the flowery scent of her hair. It always soothes me when I’m anxious if I can smell her familiar scent. She grounds me and keeps me level. I’m glad about my family being here for the holidays, but there's still so much left to do—planning the perfect proposal and making sure the house is guest-ready for people to stay there. Which is empty at the moment. No beds, no furniture to sit on, no table to eat at.

I own a big ass empty house that needs to be furnished in like three weeks.

And I just invited my whole family to stay in it.

FML. How am I ever going to get it all done?

I’m gonna need some help if I have a snowball’s chance in hell of pulling this off while keeping it a secret from Reagan.

As I hold my girl and breathe in the soothing scent of her shampoo, an idea begins to form…and it all starts to come together…in an instant.

I finally know what to do.

How to propose to Reagan.

Where to do it.

When to do it.

Thank. Blessed. God.

And I know just who I need to call to ask for help.

The next day.

“Ma,” I say, as my mother’s face appears on the video call screen.

“Mikhail!” Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “The new house is just gorgeous. The pictures probably don’t even do it justice. Congratulations, son!”

“Thanks, Mom.” A surge of warmth fills me at her enthusiasm. “It's really something special.”

“Your father said we will get to stay in your new house. It has a pool and everything! You must be so proud, Mikhail.” I’m happy she’s happy because I love making my mother happy.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, a bit embarrassed by her praise. “It's pretty great. But there's something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Of course, my love. What is it?”

“Mom, I'm going to ask Reagan to marry me.” As the words leave my lips, it becomes more real than ever before.

Mom gasps and her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Mikhail, I love Reagan! She's perfect for you and you are perfect for her. This is the best news, my son. Oh, you’ve made your mama so happy today.”

“Thanks, Mom. I think she’s pretty perfect too. And I have an idea for the perfect way to propose to her.”

“Tell me everything,” she says, leaning in closer to the screen.

I explain about the house being a secret and my plan to propose to Reagan on Christmas Eve out on the deck, surrounded by our families. I can see my mother's excitement growing, her eyes shining with anticipation with every new detail I share. “But Mom, I’m gonna need some help,” I admit. “Probably a lot of help. I want the house to be perfect for her, but with my road schedule this month, I'll never manage to get it furnished, decorated for Christmas, and stocked with food and supplies for people to be living in it, and still keep it a secret from Reagan. It’s not possible for me to do it all by my?—”

“Say no more,” she cuts me off, her voice firm. “Your father and I will come to Vegas as soon as we can get a flight. We'll be there to help you set up the house, arrange for furniture deliveries, and you know I would love nothing more than to decorate for Christmas. We'll make it a magical place for your big moment.”

“Mom, you’re a lifesaver. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Anything for you, son,” she assures me. “Now go! Start looking online for what you want to order or send me the links and I will shop. Tell me colors and styles if that is easier for you. We can just do classic neutrals to start. You and Reagan can put your own touch on décor later. Oh my, Jozem!” she calls out to my father who has poked his head into the room. “Get to packing! We have a house to prepare and a beautiful girl to welcome into our family!”

My dad waves to me from behind my mom and says, “We will be happy to help you set up your new house. Congratulations on the engagement, son. I knew Reagan was the one for you when she came to tell me off,” he jokes, a real rarity coming from him.

“Ha! Yeah, she’s pretty ballsy that way. I think you said, ‘this one’s got balls, you should keep her,’” I remind him.

“And so you took my advice then,” he says cheerfully.

“Yes, I did. It was probably the best advice you’ve ever given me, Dad.”

Christmas Eve

I stand in awe of the transformation my parents have orchestrated at the house over the last three weeks. They’ve been staying here since the first beds were delivered. So, they’ve been able to get all the things one needs to live in a space when the ideas come to mind. My sisters and nephew arrived a few days ago. Roman has been christening the pool by day and my sisters have been using the spa by night. The whole family has been using the outdoor fireplace area and helping put up lights, lights, and more lights. My dad really worked some magic with the outdoor Christmas décor while Mom focused on the inside Christmas décor and trees, plural. She even brought out a big box of ornaments from my childhood to incorporate into all the new things she’s gathered for us.

The house looks incredibly good. It looks like a home filled with warmth and comforting spaces. Brand new furniture in place and bedrooms set up to accommodate everyone. A fully stocked pantry and kitchen with cookware, dishes and a fancy new coffee maker that does all kinds of extra shit. And a garage with a workbench lined with tools and yard equipment. My dad’s particular contribution in getting me set up to care for landscaping and house maintenance. He’s worked as hard on the house as Mom has.

Stepping out onto the deck, I admire the outdoor fireplace hearth draped with twinkling Christmas lights above a blazing fire. My mom has even organized a tree outside on the deck, its branches laden with weatherproof ornaments. Inside another more traditional tree stands tall, casting a festive glow over the great room.

I can't help but feel that everything is finally in place. The time has come to make Reagan mine forever.

My heart is pounding as I drive over to the rehab hospital to pick up Reagan and her mom to bring her “home” to spend Christmas with us. I won’t have to hold onto the secret for longer than it takes to drive her back over to the house. Thank God because I can’t take it a day longer. I’m so ready to reveal our new house to Reagan. It's been tough keeping it a surprise, especially when she's always so in tune with my emotions. Glancing at the dashboard clock, I feel my anxiety crank up a notch. There's no turning back now. I pat my jacket pocket for the ring. The box is there and safe. Viktor helped me pick out her engagement ring a few weeks ago. He knows diamonds from a jeweler cousin of his in Russia who has a well-known jewelry store in Saint Petersburg.

There was also the added challenge of hiding my new “Mr. & Mrs. Hockey” tattoo from her for the past week. It wasn’t easy, especially when she started ripping my shirt off during reunion sex after my last road trip. I managed to hide it by distracting her with some special attention…with my tongue.

I know it'll all be worth it when I see her reaction tonight.

As I pull into the rehab parking lot, I can see her standing in the loading area waiting beside Audrey on a bench. She shows me every day just how much she loves me. Her constant support and unwavering loyalty made me realize that I didn't need an elaborate proposal to prove my love for her. All I need is to continue being by her side, as she has been by mine.

“You’re out here waiting for me, Princess.”

“Most definitely, Mr. Hockey.” She gives me that gorgeous smile I love to see. “Can't wait to spend Christmas Eve with your family. Are they already at our place?”

“They sure are,” I say cheerfully, happy that I’m not telling her a lie as I pull her in for a chaste kiss. Audrey gets a kiss to her cheek before helping her into the car.

“They can’t wait to see you either,” I tell them as I get back behind the wheel. The excitement in the car is contagious as we drive to what Reagan believes is our apartment, but when I turn onto the street where the new house stands, I am done with holding back the news. “There's something I've been keeping from you, babe,” I confess as I pull into the driveway. Our new house is literally draped in Christmas lights from the outside and glowing from the windows on the inside.

Reagan looks at me, puzzled, as I park and shut off the engine. “What's going on, Mikhail?” She steps out of the car and looks up to study the house. She tilts her head in recognition. “Is this the house you showed me pictures of?”

“Welcome home, babe.” I throw my arms out wide. “I bought it. For us. To start our life together.”

Her eyes widen with shock and then joy as she takes in the sight of our beautiful home. Before she can say anything, my family emerges from the front door, pouring down the walkway, offering warm hugs and kisses to both Reagan and Audrey.

“Surprise!” they shout in unison before shifting the whole group back up the walkway and inside the house for a tour. It’s crazy and exciting and loud and chaotic, but it’s wonderful too, because I can tell how happy Reagan is about the house. She hasn’t stopped touching me or let go of my hand since I pulled her inside to walk through from room to room.

After the initial excitement dies down, and people start dispersing, I tug on her hand and lead her outside where a roaring fire and the Christmas tree and lights set the scene.

“Everything about this house is perfect,” she says, smiling up at me. “I love it. And I love you.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I rest my chin on her head—something I've always done with her to show my affection. “Reagan, since the day you gave me my nickname, ‘Mr. Hockey,’ I knew I couldn't imagine a life without you. I want us to be Mr. and Mrs. Hockey forever and live here with you.”

Her eyes are glistening with tears as I start to unbutton my shirt. Then they widen as she realizes what I’m doing. “Mikhail, your parents and my mom are inside. They'll see us. You know they’re probably watching us right now!”

“I know, babe.” With a reassuring smile, I open my shirt and reveal my tattoo to her. She gasps and brings a hand to her mouth as she sees it and realization dawns. I drop to one knee with the ring box in my hand, flip open the lid and hold it up. “Reagan Marlowe, my gorgeous Warrior Princess, will you make Mr. Hockey the happiest superhero alive and be my wife?”

Tears stream down her cheeks as she nods, unable to speak. “Yes,” she finally manages to whisper, as I slide the ring onto her finger. It’s a flawless diamond, just like she is. “Yes, a thousand times yes,” she repeats her answer.

Reagan takes a moment to admire her ring before pulling me up and then wrapping her arms around me, placing her cheek over my new tattoo after kissing it a few times first.

Holding my fiancée under the glow of the Christmas lights, surrounded by the love and support of our families, I know nothing but peace.

I have my future safe in my arms.