Page 53 of Love You Too

Our lips meet, and the loss on the road starts to fade into the distance. I only want to focus on her. On us. Trix takes my face in both hands, and our kiss deepens. It’s not the frantic, playful way we’ve been in the past. This feels slower, intentional, real. And as Trix wriggles from my lap and leads me by the hand toward her bedroom, I have a singular thought—there’s no denying it. I love this woman.

CHAPTER 21

Beatrix

I thinkI’m more nervous than the day we found out that Butter and Rosemary was getting a Michelin star.

“Why am I all jittery? I’m not the one playing,” I tell Archer, who gave me little choice but to bring him as my date.

“It’s just what happens. I feel it too.”

We’re sitting at center ice right behind the plexiglass, which means that I have the best view in the house. I feel the chill coming off the ice, hear the constant roar of the spectators getting restless before the players appear. Nachos and pretzel smells mix with a pervasive hoppy smell of beer. The excitement builds all around us as the clock ticks down toward game time, and music starts blasting through the arena, getting fans amped.

I’m in Ren’s game jersey, which is huge on me, despite the new roundness of my early baby bump, and as I look around, I see lots of other fans with Renaldi jerseys. I feel a mixture ofpride in Ren’s career and nervousness over the impending matchup against Calgary.

It’s just as well that it’s my grouchy older brother by my side because he views this outing as just another sporting event, albeit one where we have seats near center ice, right on the glass. He wouldn’t understand the first date feeling rumbling in my chest, nervous that something will happen tonight and change the course of my life. It’s ridiculous because Ren has already changed my entire trajectory. Watching him play is like a dab of icing on top. Barely noticeable.

“Plus, you’re about to see your boyfriend in a whole new light. In a sport where everyone’s a badass, he’s among the select few that will be remembered for it. If you weren’t in love with him already, you will be after tonight.”

Oh. Okay.

So, watching the game with my brother won’t just be a normal sporting event. We’re going to do this sibling bonding thing—here at the game, which is about to start in ten minutes. I could feign a bathroom emergency and eat up those ten minutes easily, but if the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that I need to lean into uncomfortable situations.

“Those are some lofty pronouncements. You sure you’re not a little bit in love with Ren yourself?” I ask.

“More than a little bit,” he says in all seriousness. “It’s a guy sports thing, a bromance.”

“Does it count as a bromance if he doesn’t love you back?” I tease.

Archer’s forehead creases while he considers the question. “I think he’d love me if he got to know me.”

“I’m sure.” I’m happy to talk about my brother’s hockey crush all day long if it keeps him out of my business, and the change of topic seems to be accomplishing that nicely. I reach for the bottled water in the cupholder and unscrew the cap. The announcer calls out the names of the Calgary players as theyskate onto the ice. There’s some polite applause and a lot of booing.

“Nice sportsmanship,” I mutter.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sister. It’s gonna get brutal.”

The fury of the crowd rises in volume as Calgary’s star forward skates onto the ice, followed by the goalie. I can’t make out the various catcalls amid the booing, but the arena is vibrating.

Then, the Otters take the ice. At first, I can’t tell the players apart with all the padding and loose shirts. I look at the numbers and spot Ren as he skates around the ice like he owns the place. Hot enough to melt the ice right off the floor.

Ren has barely touched the puck, and I can tell my brother is right. There’s no way I’ll make it through an entire game with him looking like that and not fall a little bit in love. I know just how muscular he is under that jersey, yet he skates with effortless grace and passes the puck back and forth with his teammates as they warm up.

Then they start to play.

Ren is like a bull on the ice, skating fast and slapping the puck so hard, and I react like it’s his hand on my ass. I swear, if my brother wasn’t sitting next to me—not to mention an arena full of fans—I’d be touching myself right here up against the glass. I blame the pregnancy hormones a tad, but mostly it’s Ren.

By the end of the first period, the Otters are up by one. The team seems to have settled into a rhythm, and I have my hands squeezed together in a fist. “Just gotta get through two more periods for a win,” I shout at no one.

Archer answers dryly, “Thanks for the recap.”

“Quiet, or I won’t invite you back.”

He leans back in his seat and sips his beer innocently. “So, has it happened yet?” he asks.

“Has what happened?”

“Falling in love.” He points to the ice, where Ren starts yellingwhen a Calgary forward knocks down one of the Otters’ defenders. The referee says something to him, and he gets in his face, pointing and gesturing. The fans around us start yelling, too, loving Ren’s bravado and cheering even louder. “Your man. He fucking owns the place.”

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