Page 29

Chapter 28

Tenley

“I can’t look.”

“Killer, we’re filming. We want you to look,” Fisher scolds me.

I keep my hands over my eyes and turn away from the ice. "A good documentary director doesn't lead scenes or coach subjects. Do better."

He looks genuinely annoyed with me but I don’t care. He’s been trying to make this series I created trashy since he got his hands on it. I finally, a couple of weeks ago, had another meeting with the network, and this time I brought an entertainment lawyer. Patrice Brophy wasn’t expecting that and by the end of the terse, uncomfortable meeting, I had creative control and was allowed to direct all remaining footage that I wasn’t featured in.

“Oh my god! No!” Liv screams beside me.

And my fingers snap together, blocking out any holes, and I turn toward the back of the roaring arena again. There's a huge collective sigh of relief that I swear shakes the concrete walls. That means that the Quake are still ahead. In game seven of the Stanley Cup final against the Toronto Ice Dogs. I am shaking with anticipation. The last time I dared watch the game there was three minutes left. The score was… is 2-1 and the Ice Dogs pulled their goalie, which is why I can't watch. I swear a three-minute, do-or-die, six-on-five with my husband on the ice could actually kill me.

“Yes! No! Yes. Fuck yes!” Avery yells beside me and now I have to look because Nash’s dad doesn’t do public swearing.

I peek through the gap between my fingers and glance over my shoulder. Nash has the puck. There are forty-two seconds on the clock and he and Crew are skating down toward the Ice Dog's empty net on complete opposite sides of the ice. No less than four Ice Dogs are hot on their heels. Suddenly, just over the blue line, Nash is surrounded but he manages to haul off and slap the puck with his stick. At first, it seems like a horrible play. He's shot it into the boards, but it ricochets back toward the center of the ice. It still looks like a horrible play, like he just gave it away, because it's careening toward the net at an angle that will most definitely hit the bar, not the back of the net. But Crew kept skating and before an Ice Dog can react he's flying around the back of the net, coming up just in front of the puck, just in time to have it glance off his stick, and redirect it into the center of the empty net.

The goal light illuminates. The arena erupts and I’m screaming and hugging every person I can find. They did it! The Los Angeles Quake are back-to-back Stanley Cup champions. Just before tears spill down my face I see my dad and Nash’s dad hug, wiping away their own tears over each other’s shoulders. On the ice the buzzer sounds and the entire Quake organization floods the ice in celebration. Liv grabs me.

“I love hockey!” she yells, which is hilarious because she avoided it like the plague until she started dating Crew.

It takes almost an hour but eventually the handshakes and trophy presentation and the passing around of the trophy and the on-ice interviews are done and we’re let onto the ice too. I beeline straight for Nash, stopping only to high-five my brother as I pass. Nash is grinning and he lifts me right off the ice when I wrap my arms around his shoulders, which is a near impossible task with all the equipment.

“Can you believe it?” he asks in wonder as he drops me carefully back onto the ice.

“Of course I can,” I say. “You can thank me later.”

He laughs. “For what?”

“What did I say to you when you left the loft this afternoon?” I put my hands on my hips and wait impatiently.

His grin turns cheeky and he leans a little closer. “That was the best orgasm yet.”

I shake my head and fight a blush because yeah, I did say that after our pregame sex which included some toy play. “ After that.”

“I dare you to win another Cup,” he says and I grin.

“You, Nash-Hole are yet to turn down or lose a dare. Congrats.”

His parents leave Crew’s side and come over to congratulate him. A moment later I’m carefully shuffling off the ice with everyone else and Nash is holding my hand and gliding beside me. He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for coming to New York with me tomorrow.”

“Nowhere else I would ever be,” I reply simply. He’s going to have surgery the day after tomorrow and even though we’re assured it’s a simple procedure with minimal risk, I want to be by his side. Because I love him. Desperately. “Besides, we’re not divorced yet. I don’t want to look like a bad wife.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want that.” Nash rolls his eyes as he grins.

I give him a shove toward the locker room, which does nothing because he’s a brick wall on skates. “Go. Get stupid with the boys.”

“Bossy. But okay. If you insist.”

I get tipsy on champagne with the families in the VIP room while Nash does the same with his teammates in the locker room. Hours later the party moves to Musica’s and we find ourselves walking hand-in-hand on the beach toward the loft as the sun rises.

“Our flight to New York is in six hours,” he reminds me and I groan. “If I fall asleep now, I’ll probably miss it so maybe we should just have sex until it’s time to go.”

I laugh. “I like the idea, but you need to sleep it off. I don’t think the doctor will want to operate on you if you’re hungover and your blood is still forty-five percent champagne.”

“Hey,” he grumbles. “I’m the rule follower and worrier, not you, remember.”

“Fine. I’ll suck you off right here and now,” I start to drop to my knees on the cool sand but he tugs me to my feet and drags me off the beach.

We do have sex, and it's slow and perfect, but we manage three hours of shut-eye before we race through a shower together and get to the airport just in time to board the plane. His parents, Crew, and Liv are all in seats in the first-class cabin as well. Nash is genuinely shocked to see them.

“I’m not letting you go to New York without me again,” Crew says like it’s no big deal. “That food you were eating in that Warren photo looked incredible. I need to go there.”

Nash shakes his head. “We’ll go tonight. But I’m getting their burger. I need to soak up the remaining alcohol.”

We have a nice night out together and then Nash and I wake up the next morning and cuddle wordlessly. I have so much I want to say, like tell him, flat-out, that I love him, but now it feels too late. I don’t want him to think I said it just because I’m worried about the operation or something. He’s not allowed to eat because of the impending surgery but he offers to order me room service for breakfast. I decline. I couldn’t put a thing in my stomach right now. I know he’ll be fine but I am still nervous.

We meet everyone else at the hospital where Nash gets assigned a room and we all settle in while he does some pre-surgery blood work and then we wait. A nurse comes in after about half an hour and hooks him up to an I.V. and a bag of something she says will loosen him up before the surgery. Forty minutes later an orderly walks in. “We’re ready to take you down.”

Nash nods. He looks at his family. “Can you give me a second with Ten?”

They all hug him and disappear. The nurse and orderly step into the hall. He sighs. “Hey, so I’m a little nervous and slightly loopy from whatever the hell they stuck in my arm.” He points to the IV hooked to his arm. “I may not even remember saying this but I wanted to tell you I love you.”

I laugh. He doesn't even seem offended. "I mean, the last thing I don't remember doing is marrying you and that turned out to be the best decision of my life… even if I have to divorce you. Anyway, I love you."

“I love you too.” I lean in and kiss him. His lips barely move. They have to have him on something strong.

“You love me.” He sighs dreamily. It’s adorable.

“I do, Nash-Hole. Don’t let it go to your head.” I kiss him again. “And please be okay because I can divorce you, but I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promises softly.

But I swear, it isn’t until the doctor is standing in front of us in the waiting room and says, “Everything went textbook. He should have no outstanding issues,” that I can actually take a full breath again. “He’s in recovery and very woozy so only one family member at a time.”

I sit back down on the slightly uncomfortable chair and let relief wash over me. Stephanie puts a hand on my shoulder. “Honey?”

“Yes?”

“You should be the first to see him.” She smiles. “He’d want that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Avery says. “You’re his wife.”

“I’m… but you know…” I pause. He’s right. We may still be divorcing but in my heart, I’ll always be his wife. “Thanks.”

I walk down the hall twisting the ring on my finger and when I walk into the small sterile room and he gives me a loopy smile I fight tears. “Thanks for not dying.”

He laughs but it’s a heavy sleepy sound. “You kidding? I got Tenley Garrison to admit she’s in love with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He holds up an arm and I climb onto the bed, careful not to jostle his leg, which is elevated on a pillow and wrapped up with gauze midway up his calf. I kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“So did you mean it?” he whispers into the top of my head. “Do I really not have to divorce you?”

“You weren’t supposed to remember that.” I sigh and with every beat of his strong heart against my ear on his chest I feel myself calming down. “It would be crazy to stay married.”

"Well, no one ever said we were sane."

I smile. “Let’s just concentrate on recovery. For now.”

The truth is, I don’t care if we have paperwork or not, I know Nash is the only man who will ever have my heart. I don’t know if I said till death do us part, but I feel it. In my soul.