Page 70 of Next Season
He didn’t.
He pursed his lips and blinked through a sheen of tears as a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “You love me?”
I placed my thumbs on his cheekbones, tracing the outline of his face. “Very much.”
“Why? I’m terrible.” He captured my wrist and kissed my fingers.
“I know.” I chuckled. “You’re kind of grumpy and a little bossy too.”
“True.”
“But you’re fucking phenomenal in bed and you can cook.”
He gave a solemn nod. “Also true.”
I tugged at his T-shirt and held his gaze. “I see you, I know you. You’re tough, but you’re not hard. You have strong opinions, but you’re kind and you care. And you see me—my faults, my fears, my fucked-up single-minded neurosis and superstitions, and you just…get it. You get me. I cannot walk away from this. From us. Fuck hockey. I’ll stay here and—”
“Shh. Don’t be silly. You have to go to Seattle.”
“How do we do this?” I laced our fingers, needing this contact more than I thought I would. “It’ll be public. I hope you’re okay with that. I came out to Vinnie and my sister…and my coach. I want to be out. All the way out.”
“You’re sure? I mean, you want hockey too, right?”
“And you. Us. We come first. But…maybe I can be a hockey player, be bisexual,andhave you.” I paced from the door to the hallway. “I can do some good in the league. I can be out and proud and play on the biggest stage in the world.”
“I like this idea. What did your coach say?”
“I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. He’s a good guy, but this might not go my way. I might be released or benched for the rest of the season…I don’t know. Fuck, maybe I should stay here. I love Elmwood. I can move in with you, work with Vinnie and the juniors, eat at the diner, buy lattes at Rise and Grind and cookies at the bakery, play bingo at—”
He shut me up with a kiss. “Go play hockey first.”
“Right. Okay. I just…can I ask you for five months? Will you wait till next season for me?”
“Oh, Riley,mon ami. I would wait till the end of time for you.”
I beamed. “That’s fucking romantic.”
“No, it’s just love.”
“Fuck, I really love you.”
“Je t’aime, mon cher. Je t’aime.”
This love thing was a strange phenomenon. It felt as though we were holding hands on the precipice of a steep cliff, prepared to jump without a parachute into the unknown. It was scary, but exhilarating too. I had no doubt this was where I was supposed to be.
There was no reason to wait. We didn’t need next time or next season. We had forever to look forward to. Starting now.
EPILOGUE
“Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.”?Paulo Coelho,Aleph
Eighteen monthslater
Jean-Claude
The black awning over the bistro contrasted nicely with the freshly painted bluish-gray door. There was a bit of controversy regarding the pop of color. Apparently, the town council in Pinecrest had been hoping for a sleek, uniform black and that particular shade of azure was a bit too bold. We’d respectfully disagreed and had politely informed them that the color was nonnegotiable.
Perhaps it was a silly detail to fight over, but I was adamant and I hadn’t been inclined to explain my reasoning. I mean, it sounded odd to say the door was the color of your boyfriend’s eyes, eh?