Page 89 of Perfect Boy

A few months ago, I assumed my ass would never get the chance to chase my dreams in the United States. And now, I’m a true US citizen. My record has been cleared. And the annulment papers were torn up long ago. When I dreamed my big dreams as a girl, it was missing the most important thing that is now my reality.

It was missing Watson.

After a long talk with Ginger, I decided not to go back to Peaches. While I appreciate all she did for me and she was a wonderful boss, my heart was no longer in it. But I did, however, get a job at a local ballet studio, teaching lessons a few nights a week. The pay isn’t nearly as good, but it’s so fulfilling that it makes it all okay. And Watson and I found an apartment to move into in a few weeks. So, all in all, life is good.

I never thought of myself as marriage material. Honestly, I never even cared to have a husband. But then I married Watson, and he spent day after day making me fall not only in love with him, but with us too.

And I can’t wait to see what our future might hold.

Watson

“Whose house is this?” Sutton scowls, looking at the random house I just drove us to. “Are you going to kill us all off now? I’ll have you know, I’d make a very scary ghost that would come back and haunt your ass. Daily.”

After we went to the Rangers arena and checked out where I’d be playing pro hockey, I had a surprise for Ryann. One that I’m hoping will earn me some major sexy time when we get back to the room later.

“Just trust me, would ya?” I call back to Sutton before opening my door. “Come on, guys. You don’t want to miss this.”

Ryann’s voice stops me. “Babe, what the hell are we doing at this random-ass house?” She looks from the blue house and back to me. “You’re creepin’ me out, dude.”

Jerking my chin toward it, I give her a grin. “Trust your husband. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

She gives me a look like she’s thinking before she laughs. “Fine. You have a point there.”

Getting out of the truck, Ryann follows my lead, and hand in hand, we head toward the front door with Sutton and Hunter trudging behind. Both undoubtedly with confused looks on their faces, much like my wife’s.

When I knock, a middle-aged woman with auburn hair opens the door, smiling at us. “Watson! You made it.”

“We did. After five weeks of emails and calls, I’m finally here to pick up my package.” I laugh. “Thank you, Judy. For holding it for me this long.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all.” She grins at me before her eyes move to Ryann’s. “I think your husband here is about to get hubby of the year.” She opens the door wider. “Come in, guys. Come in.”

The second we’re inside, I can sense Ryann is stiffening next to me. She’s never been huge on surprises, but I know this one will be an exception. And when we head into the living room, there he is, sitting on the couch next to Judy’s husband, Tony.

A dog. No, a French bulldog.

Ryann’s hands fly to her mouth, and she looks at me. “You remembered?” she cries.

Pulling her to my side, I give her a look. “Of course I did. I remember everything when it comes to my wife.” I kiss the top of her head. “I take it, you want to take him home then?”

Her head bobs up and down, and she cranes her neck to look up at me. Kneeling down, she makes a kissing sound, and the dog jumps from the couch to the floor and runs over to her. Jumping up onto Ryann’s legs, he kisses her face.

“I love him,” she sobs. “I love him so much.”

Sinking down so that I’m at their level, I rub my palm over the squirming pup. “This is Wilson,” I tell her. “If you still think that name sounds domesticated, that is.”

“Wilson.” She sniffles. “I love Wilson.” She leans in, kissing my cheek. “And I love you.” Turning her attention back to Wilson, she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I finally have a pet.”

I nod. “Yes, baby. You do.”

And the way she looks at me, it’s priceless. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to continue seeing that look for the rest of my life.

33

Watson

Three Years Later

From the balcony, I look down at the hundreds of seats below me. Red seats, each and every one of them filled with a body. A person who paid for a ticket to tonight’s show. But when I look around at the huge-ass section currently occupied by a bunch of hockey players and their families, I can’t help but laugh to myself. Never did I think I’d be the type of dude sitting at a Broadway show. Yet here I am, alongside so many others, all here to support the same person.

---