Page 58 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband

Emma hesitates, glancing toward the living room where we can hear Dax moving around. "It's not really my story to tell, but... let's just say the last person he cared about left when things got complicated."

She doesn't finish the sentence.

"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her firmly. "Complicated doesn't scare me."

"Even if it gets really complicated? Like, publicly complicated?"

There's something in her tone that makes me pause. "What do you mean?"

Emma bites her lip. "I just... I work in media, right? Communications major, internship at a sports marketing firm. I know how fast things can spread, how quickly private becomes public in the sports world."

A chill runs down my spine. "Emma, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you two are serious about this, you should probably prepare for people to find out eventually. And when they do..." She shrugs. "It might get messy."

Before I can respond, Dax appears in the kitchen doorway.

"Everything okay in here? You two got quiet all of a sudden."

"Just talking about your hobbies," Emma says smoothly, but I can see the concern in her eyes.

Dax moves behind me, his hands settling on my waist as he peers over my shoulder at the onions I'm chopping. The gesture is so natural, so domestic, that for a moment I forget all about Emma's warning.

"Smells good," he murmurs against my ear, and I'm not entirely sure he's talking about the food.

"Down, boy," Emma says, but she's grinning. "At least let me finish interrogating her before you start the romantic cooking montage."

"There's no montage," Dax protests, but his hands don't leave my waist.

"There's totally a montage. But well, it's disgustingly cute."

She's not wrong.

Dinner comes together faster than expected, maybe because we're all working together, maybe because the conversation is flowing so easily that time seems to slip away. Emma tells stories about Dax as a kid—how he used to practice hockey moves in the hallway until their downstairs neighbor complained, how he once tried to teach their goldfish to play fetch, how he cried during every Disney movie until he turned thirteen and decided emotions weren't cool.

"He's still emotional," Emma confides as we sit down to eat. "He just hides it better now."

"I'm right here," Dax points out.

"We know," Emma and I say at the same time, then look at each other and laugh.

"Great. You're already ganging up on me."

"It's what we do," Emma says sagely. "It's called bonding. Very important for family dynamics."

The word 'family' hits me unexpectedly hard. I've been on my own for so long that I forgot what it feels like to be included in something bigger than myself.

"Tell me about your family, Tessa," Emma says, as if she can read my thoughts. "Are your parents still together? Any siblings?"

"Just me and my mom," I say, which is my standard answer. "My dad wasn't really in the picture growing up."

"I'm sorry," Emma says gently. "That must have been hard."

"We did okay. My mom is... she's incredible, actually. Worked three jobs to keep us afloat, never once made me feel like I was missing out on anything."

"She sounds amazing," Dax says quietly. "I'd like to meet her sometime."

The casual way he says it, like meeting my mother is a given rather than a maybe, makes my heart skip. "She'd like that. She's already decided she likes you."