Page 82 of Tell Me Lies

Tears stream down my cheeks, but I don’t bother wiping them as I look from the watch to him. “Thank you. There aren’t enough words to express how much this means to me.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile, Boston.”

Cupping my cheeks, he kisses me deeply, and instantly, I melt into him before he releases me and steps back.

“Now, I’m going to walk away because this isn’t the type of party where I should be pitching a tent in my jeans.” He groans, looking down. “And if you keep kissing me and we keep talking about your career … my cock is going to swell to the point of no return. And it’ll be you sneaking me into the bathroom instead.”

As he forces himself to walk away, I grin through my tears, shaking my head. And when I look around the house and squeeze the watch in my hand, my heart swells. And it’s all because of that man.

The entire day, there’s been a line at Maci’s table, going all the way down the wall and around the corner, packed with fans who have been patiently waiting to meet her. Most of them carry bags, loaded with books for her to sign, and some even have these little cart things with wheels that look super convenient. She might not be the most social person, but here, you’d never know it. I guess that’s because these are her people.

This is her tribe.

As I look at the faces of the fans in line, not one of them looks frustrated to be waiting. Warmth spreads across my entire chest because, goddamn, I’m so proud of my girl. And I’m so happy to see the support these readers have shown her not just today, but for her entire career.

“Logan, can you take a picture?” Maci says, standing next to a girl with glasses and a shirt with Maci’s team logo on it.

“Gonna cost you five dollars,” I say, joking, before holding my hand out for the woman’s phone.

She quickly hands it to me, and they turn to face me, both smiling big.

“All right, say cheese, guys,” I say, likely taking the hundredth photo of my girl with one of her readers. “That’s a good one,” I say, admiring the photo I took before handing it back to the lady.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the phone and suddenly looking bashful. “Would you mind if I got one of all three of us?My husband is a huge fan of yours, and I’m a huge fan of your girlfriend.”

I look at Maci, unsure of what to say, and she smiles, giving me a nod that tells me to say yes. The last thing I want to do today is take any of the shine from her and put it on me. This day is about her and the other amazing trailblazers in this room, not some dumb hockey player. But because she wants me to, of course, I’ll say yes.

“Hell yeah.” I nod.

The lady finds some random person to take the picture before wedging herself between us.

“Oh, just get on in here and make yourself a Maci and Logan sandwich,” I joke to her. “Good thing I showered today, ma’am. This is close quarters.”

She giggles like a schoolgirl, smiling at the camera. “My husband isn’t going to believe this! I told him he should come!” She hugs us both. “This is the best day of my life,” she whispers before rushing off so the next person in line can meet Maci.

Smiling at the people in line, she moves closer to me. “Thank you for being here.”

“No place I’d rather be,” I tell her honestly.

Flying across the ice, being in my element, is great and all. But watching her slay in hers? Priceless.

I hold my hand out to the next person and wave them toward us, who happens to be a woman who looks in her sixties. “Get on up here, beautiful.”

“Easy, killer,” Maci utters, clearly amused. “Laying it on awfully thick, aren’t you?”

“You’re fixing to see how thick I am here shortly.” I look at the time on the wall. “In two hours and eight minutes, I’m going to have my cock buried so deep inside of you that you’re going to walk with a limp tomorrow.” I wink, stepping back once the lady gets to her.

As she turns her attention to her reader, I don’t miss the crimson in her cheeks because she knows I’m a man of my word.

Seven Months Later

Iwatch Logan hand Amelia her presents from Santa, putting his best surprised face on. He helped pick out and wrap every single present for his daughter. He didn’t want to miss anything. He even stayed up with me to perfectly place them around the tree.

“Hey, Amy,” Logan says before handing her the next gift. “What do elves learn when they go to school?”

I put my hand on my head and cringe, knowing this is going to be another terrible joke, but he absolutely loves to tell the world’s corniest dad jokes of all time.

“Ummm …” She giggles, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

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