Page 93 of Tempest

Odette

There’s something special about Paris in the summer. There’s something extraordinary about Paris in the summer with someone you love.

It means even more when the someone you love just came off his final Stanley Cup run and won by scoring the final goal.

Playoffs were the most anxiety-inducing experience I ever had. I loved every minute of it, and I traveled with the wags to all the games. I refused to miss any of it. And I made sure all the guys looked and felt like fire every time they stepped into an arena. A small thing, but I felt like I contributed in a small way to the camaraderie and morale, which Gavin says is important.

He may have been blowing smoke up my ass, but regardless, I loved doing it and the guys seemed appreciative. When you look fabulous, you feel fucking fabulous. That must help walking into a game.

Gavin retired as a player after that last game. He’d still been considering coaching at a league level, but the Blades made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and he’s taken a position in Player Development.

At first, he thought it might be more demanding than what he wanted. Then he realized how much he’d miss being with the team, with players. He’s been a part of a hockey team since he was four years old, that’s not easy to give up, and being a coach of little kids isn’t quite the same thing.

I’m happy he made the decision he did, even though I would have supported anything he decided. The world of hockey has grown on me this past year, I don’t want to give it up quite yet, either. Though I won’t miss the stress of potential injury.

Truthfully, I’d probably support Gavin if he committed murder, I’m so fucking head over heels for the man.

It’s his kindness that does me in. He never gets angry, even when I’m being a bear from stress or in the middle of some client crisis. There are hundreds of small things that I never had before, like when we walk down a sidewalk, and he makes sure he’s on the outside. I laughed the first time, because really, if an out-of-control car came up on the sidewalk, we’d likely both get hit. But it’s sweet, nonetheless. He’s always thoughtful like that. There’s never a time when he isn’t gentle with me. Well, except during sex.

A lot like he is when he’s on the ice, he gets virile and vigorous. Unsatiable in obtaining whatever his end goal is, whether it’s getting the puck in the net, or bringing me to my third orgasm before he finds his own pleasure.

Isla once told me she thinks hockey players are competitive with themselves when there is nobody else to play against, and I can see that with Gavin. He’s always improving a skill or trying to outdo some accomplishment he’s already made.

There, we’re very similar. We want to be the best at whatever we set our mind to. I’ve strived to be the best girlfriend I can be.

Now, I want more.

We’ve never discussed marriage. Maybe he worries that it will bring back visions of his wedding with Caroline. Or maybe he’s not interested in matrimony again. Part of me doesn’t care about marriage. Well, not the kind sanctioned by a state and taxed by the Feds. I don’t need a piece of paper to know we belong together.

But those dreams I had as a child? The ones that had me sketching wedding dresses on paper napkins when I was bored? Those have resurfaced.

I want to wear a pretty dress and profess my undying love to Gavin. It’s more than want. It’s a need, something more like fate, even. I’ve always thought we made our own way in life, never believing in any kind of divine intervention. But Gavin and I were meant to be together. So, what do I know?

We’ve spent the day shopping in the city. As promised, he bought me whatever I wanted from all my favorite vintage stores. I’ll have to buy more luggage to get it all home, but there were too many amazing finds to pass up.

Now we’re at a small restaurant next to the luxurious flat he rented for us. The one with the rooftop pool that overlooks the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

It’s my birthday and I’m going to ask Gavin to marry me. It’s the only present I want; he’s already given me all I could ever think of asking for. And more. All that’s left is the title of wife.

And stepmom, which I want just as much.

Nerves have danced around my tummy all day, growing fiercer as the day goes on. He’ll say yes, I’m sure of it. So why am I so worried about it?

The server brings the bill and the bottle of champagne I ordered to-go. I told Gavin I wanted to drink it in the pool later. We’ve eaten enough to keep us full for days; red onion compote, artichokes in pepper, a cheese plate, mussels, followed by the most delectable lemon tart that melted as soon as it touched my tongue.

It’s truly been the perfect day.

I grab the bill before he can, and he sends me a scathing glare.

“You can’t pay. It’s your birthday.”

“You haven’t let me pay for anything this entire trip.”

“Right. Because it’s your birthday trip,” he argues.

“Well, I’m calling this your Stanley Cup celebratory dinner. And I’m buying.”

“You’re stubborn.”

---