Page 160 of Miami Ice

And it’s a problem I will never ever take for granted.

When Beckham has been in town, I’ve practically lived with him. On nights when he didn’t have a game, we went out to eat. Got coffee. Spent nights cuddled up on the sofa watching cheesy Christmas movies and then action flicks when Beckham said he needed a palate cleanser.

I’ve also spent time with my friends. I had a Christmas cookie exchange party. I invited Ella, Chloe, Scarlett, Becca, and Emilee, and everyone got on well and it was a lot of fun.

It’s been a whirlwind of a holiday season. But even with all the activity, I missed Beckham whenever he was on the road. We had our Connectivity Video Chats, but I couldn’t wait for him to come home.

I swallow. I know why.

It’s because I love him.

I’ve been fighting labeling it for so long. For stupid reasons. Like it’s too soon. I don’t know him well enough. All the things people tell you that you should think before declaring you love someone.

The truth is, I’ve loved him for a while now. I kept telling myself I wasfallingin love, but I know now, without a doubt, it was love the whole time. I know this man. I know what is in his heart.

And I know what is in mine.

Beckham is exactly what I needed, but never knew it. He supports me. Believes in me. Makes me laugh. Challenges me. He’s fierce and protective and loyal. I love the way he looks at me. Touches me.

And I love the way he loves me.

Beckham has a game tonight, but then I get him all to myself for his Christmas break. His next hockey game isn’t until the twenty-eighth.

Okay, so notallto myself, since we’ll spend Christmas with my wheels-off family, but still. A lot to myself.

I can’t wait to shower him with Christmas happiness and love.

And tell him I love him on Christmas Eve.

An excited shiver races through me at the thought of it. Beckham told me his family tradition is to open presents on Christmas Eve, and he hasn’t experienced it since he began playing professional hockey. I’m going to surprise him with all his presents on Christmas Eve, and then I’m going to tell him how I fell in love with him.

And I cannot wait to say those words to him.

But first, we have a game tonight. I get up, as I’m going to treat myself to some cozy clothing and hot chocolate for the next few hours before I go to the arena. I have a drawer in Beckham’s dresser, and I pull out my pink long-sleeved T-shirt with the vintage Santa on it—complete with the pink hat that Beckham loathes—and a pair of pink drawstring shorts with blue snowflakes all over them. Then I put on my fuzzy gingerbread woman slippers. I work my hair into braids around my head, and by the time Beckham appears in the doorway wrapped in nothing but a towel, I grin up at him from the bed, playfully posing with my head propped up on my elbow.

“You want to pin me to the mattress and take me right now, don’t you?” I tease.

“Well, I do. Because I always want to have sex with you. But I also want to get you out of that sickening outfit. What arethose?” he abruptly asks, screwing up his face and pointing to my feet.

“Gingerbread lady slippers,” I say, playfully flexing my feet at him. “I picked them up today at Home Joy.”

He snorts. “You should have left those at Home Joy. Those look like Chewbacca.”

“They do not!”

He grins. “They do.”

Then he turns around and walks into his closet.

I frown. Hmm. That’s too bad. I was rather enjoying the view of him in a towel, with the beads of water dripping down his chiseled body, but the man has to go to work and I don’t want to delay him.

“Well, unless Chewbacca is wearing pink icing for his hair and facial features, I can assure you they are gingerbread women slippers,” I call out to him.

I can hear the sound of clothing rustling, and I know he’s slipping into some incredible designer suit. Minnie pops off the bed and goes into the walk-in closet, and soon I hear Beckham talking to her in what I call his “Minnie Pinny voice.”

“Minnie Pinny! Have you come to see Dad? Do you love your daddy?”

Swoon. It’s so freaking cute I can hardly stand it.

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