Page 16

October

T he team has just loaded onto the plane and we’re set to depart to Chicago any minute now, but we’re waiting on one passenger.

My fiancée.

Well, no one besides the two of us knows she’s my fiancée, but Scarlett is late and I’m beginning to question if it’s due to the perpetual tardiness she warned me about, or if something is wrong.

She told me she hadn’t been on a flight since her father’s accident, and now that I think better of it, I wonder if this oversight on her grandfather’s part was due to his progressing dementia.

Surely he wouldn’t put her in this situation—flying for the first time since the accident with a plane full of her employees and coworkers—while knowing she’s been too terrified to travel for the past five years.

And with our new arrangement, her stress is sure to be off the charts.

Since I proposed last week, I’ve continued Gemma’s guitar lessons and snuck in a few lunches with Scarlett either at her office or the lunch spot down the street from the arena she said she loves.

I won’t lie, I thought things between us would be stiff and awkward, but I’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Our conversations flow naturally, and I’m enjoying getting to know her more, which doesn’t happen for me much outside of my small friend group .

A few moments later there’s commotion at the front of the plane before a flash of copper catches my eye. I stand on instinct, my feet moving toward her before I know what I’m doing.

“Sit with me?” I ask as I approach her, surprising myself with my question.

“Oh, I don’t want to mess with your pregame routine,” she replies, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear with her left hand. I notice her ring finger is bare like it has been all week, but I don’t mention it . . . for now.

“You won’t. We don’t play until tomorrow. Follow me, I sit in the back.”

She worries her bottom lip and I fix my gaze on her mouth. “I should probably sit up front with the rest of management.”

“We’ve got much to discuss, boss. Come on.” I nod toward the back of the plane and move into an empty row so she can walk ahead of me down the aisle. When she huffs out a sigh of defeat, I internally fist pump in victory.

“Thought you’re not supposed to wear white after Labor Day,” I tease as I follow her down the aisle, taking in the white pencil skirt that clings like a second skin to her ass.

She’s paired it with a black polka dot blouse beneath a matching white, fitted blazer.

She looks incredible, and I have to fight back the urge to claim her in front of all my asshole teammates whose heads turn as we walk by them.

“You couldn’t last two minutes,” she points out, pulling my glare away from my teammates.

“If memory serves, I’m not sure what gave you that impression.” I don’t bother hiding my cocky smirk when her head whips around.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in annoyance at my innuendo. “I meant you couldn’t even go two minutes without giving me shit for something. As for the other thing . . . my memory unfortunately doesn’t serve me that long ago.”

Now it’s my turn to scoff before suggesting, “Maybe we’ll have to bring it top of mind then.”

Scarlett merely hums in response, and her nonchalance is somehow sexy as hell.

“We’re right here,” I tell her as I place my hand on her lower back to guide her into our row. “Do you prefer the window or aisle?” I ask her.

“Um—I-I’m not sure. I think window. If that’s alright with you,” she says hesitantly, her mood shifting to unease.

“I’m alright with whatever will make you most comfortable,” I tell her, offering her a gentle squeeze on her thigh once we’ve sat down, which I hope is reassuring.

As we fasten our seatbelts, I notice her hands trembling. When the captain tells the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for takeoff, Scarlett’s breathing becomes shuttered and her grip on the armrests tightens.

I lace my fingers through hers without thinking about it. Easing her worries is my only priority right now. “Eyes on me, Scar.”

She turns her head and I’m met with her stricken gaze. Forget frightened. Scarlett is terrified.

“What’s something no one else knows about you?” I ask, attempting to distract her.

“W-what?”

“Let’s play a game of twenty questions. Except instead of asking twenty questions to guess one correct answer, we ask each other twenty questions to get to know one another better. If we’re going to be married, I should probably know more about my fiancée.”

“Okay,” she agrees, shaking her head up and down almost as if she’s giving herself a silent pep talk. “Well one thing most people don’t know about me is that I make seasonal bucket lists for me, Gemma, and Gunner to complete.”

A genuine smile spreads across my face picturing the three of them doing seasonal activities together that Scar planned. “That sounds fun. What is something you’re looking forward to crossing off your fall bucket list with the two of them?”

She takes a deep breath. “We haven’t gone to a pumpkin patch in years and I was hoping to go all out decorating for Halloween this year now that we’re at the new house.

A few of the neighbors told me the entire neighborhood gets really into it and everyone votes to choose a winner for best decorations. ”

“Do Gemma and Gunner like Halloween?”

“They love it, though Gunner gets scared of some of the costumes and decorations we’ve seen over the years. But this year he’s taken an odd liking to the scarier costumes. Like, he just told me he wants to be Pennywise. I told him absolutely not because I’m terrified of clowns.”

“So if a clown showed up at your office, that would be a bad thing?”

She gives me a scathing look that oddly puts me at ease, knowing it’s replacing her look of terror. Definitely storing that information away for later though.

“When do you see getting married falling on your bucket list?” I ask, looking down at our intertwined hands, a little bashful but curious to hear her answer.

“To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it until earlier this week.”

I hum in response before shooting her another question. “If you could get married anywhere, where would it be?”

“Paris. In the spring when the trees are in bloom.” Her answer comes without hesitation, and she has this far away look in her eyes.

“Hate to break it to you, Little Red, but you’re about to become the owner of an NHL team. Hopefully, we’ll be making a deep playoff run in the spring. We could have a summer wedding in Paris. Maybe we’ll have the cup on a table instead of a cake.”

“I didn’t say that’s where we would get married,” she clarifies. “That’s just been my dream since I was a little girl. My mother lived in Paris for a few years during the height of her modeling career.”

“And does she still live there? Your mother?”

“No, she passed away from complications following my birth. I only have secondhand stories and photographs of her. But every time I visited Paris growing up, I got this sense of everything feeling right . Do you have a place like that?”

The honesty of her answer surprises me. I wasn’t anticipating such a detailed answer, given the nature of her fear of flying.

“I’m not sure I do,” I admit, peering at her from the corner of my eye to find her eyes on me once again.

Clearing my throat, I change my answer. “I suppose the ice. When I’m on the ice, I feel a sense of belonging—of peace—I don’t otherwise feel.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a game, practice, or I’m just skating by myself, regardless of who is with me, I feel better on the ice. ”

She playfully nudges my shoulder with hers. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got the career you do.”

“Doesn’t it make you angry that you’re not able to choose your career path now?” I ask.

She pulls at her bottom lip as she considers her response. “I’m thankful the team will remain in the family, however, I’m not ecstatic that I’m the one who has to hold down the fort until someone else is old enough to take over.”

I consider that and look out the window over her shoulder.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re going to hold ownership until either Gemma or Gunner is old enough to decide if they’d like to take over?

That would put you in your late thirties or well into your forties.

Is that really what you envision for yourself? ”

“I told you, none of this is what I envisioned. But it’s not just about me.

Stability is what Gemma and Gunner need.

A change of leadership is what is required of me now that my grandfather’s condition has been diagnosed and is progressing.

Do I wish I had a capable, long-lost cousin that could take over?

Absolutely. But that isn’t the case. It’s just me,” she finishes with a shrug.

Scarlett’s selflessness and her ability to change shitty circumstances into a glass-half-full perspective are quickly becoming traits I didn’t realize I was looking for in a woman. The manner in which she’s handled each hurdle she, Gunner, and Gemma have had to overcome is awe-inspiring.

As the plane turns off the tarmac onto the runway, Scarlett’s grip tightens on mine and she presses her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes as she attempts to gulp in air through her unsteady breathing.

Without knowing what else to do, I lean in and press a kiss to her temple, and when I do, I breathe in her sweet floral scent.

The familiar perfume she’s wearing has lust flooding my stomach with a sense of longing for moments from a night six years ago when I held this incredible woman in my arms under far different circumstances.