Page 76 of Wrong Score

“I have to confess something about my birthday wish,” I say.

She giggles against our kiss, her arms snaking around the back of my neck to pull me closer. “Okay, what is it?”

“My birthday wish was a little different than what I told you. This is what I really wished for, to make something with you, something that’s half of both of us. And I promise you, I gave you my best half.”

Her laughter bubbles up again, but it’s softer this time, her gaze brimming with warmth. “Every part of you is the best, Bex. I hope our baby has all of you, not just the parts you think are good enough.”

I brush my thumb over her cheek, a grin spreading across my face. “I love you, Rowan,” I whisper, letting each word linger. “And I want us to be a family. I want to be by your side, through every step of this. I love you.”

She nods, her hands siding up the back of my neck, her forehead resting against mine. “I love you too. And there’s no one else I’d rather live this next chapter of my life with than you.”

In one movement, I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to my desk, swiping everything to the floor in one big sweep—everything crashing down onto the floor. She lets out a surprised laugh, her fingers already working the zipper on my jacket.

I press my lips to her neck, savoring the soft sigh that escapes her. “Do you think I can get another baby in there?” I tease, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Twins?” she says with a raised brow. “Nice try, you're potent swimmers are potent but I think that only works for cats. You’ll have to try again in nine months,” she teases. “But then again, I didn’t think you could get me pregnant once.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I never miss a goal?” I tell her with a grin.

She hums with approval. “That’s some hell of a slap shot you’ve got there Townsend.”

Her fingers trace down my chest, while my hands move to her hips, pulling her closer, notching against her wet entrance with my tip, our bodies fitting together perfectly.

As we find our rhythm, our movements fall into place, her hands gripping the edge of my desk while I press into her, savoring each soft gasp, each desperate whimper, until she’s clawing at my back as she comes, muffling her sounds against my shoulder.

And then I come right after, spilling every drop I have inside of her, loving the way her eyes dilate when she knows I filled her full of me.

I stay buried in her as we both breathe through the aftermath of our climax, keeping her wrapped tight in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, she tilts her head up, eyes shining with a mischievous light.

“You know,” she says, her voice light, “I might just take Leo up on his offer to work remotely until June of next year.”

My brow arches. “Next June? The end of my contract,” I murmur, recognizing the implication.

She nods, her smile widening. “It would put you in the perfect position for the daddy position I have open in Liverpool.”

I chuckle, kissing her gently. “Is the daddy position for you, or for the baby?”

Her face softens, her hand sliding over my cheek, her thumb brushing my jawline. “Both.”

Her answer floods me with a sense of relief, fulfillment and purpose. Something that hockey always gave me. But now my purpose of supporting Rowan as she navigates through a new career and a move across the ocean, as well as becoming a father, is bigger than anything before it. She’s thought this through, imagining a future that stretches beyond Seattle, beyond hockey, beyond anything I’ve ever dared to envision—and she wants to do it with me.

“If you’re moving across the pond,” I say, voice thick with emotion, “then that’s where I’ll be too. Hockey or not, all I want… all I’ll ever want from this day on… is to be with you.”

She smiles, reaching up to cup my face, her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “Are you sure you’re ready to give up the game?”

I nod, a peace settling over me that I’ve never felt before. “For you, Rowan? For you and our baby? I’d give up the world.”

She presses her lips to mine, sealing a promise that needs no words. And as I hold her in my arms, our future unfolding in front of us, I know that for the first time in my life, I’ve found the home I’d always been searching for. And it’s not an arena, or a stadium, or even a city. It’s her. It’s us. It’s this new life we’re building together.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rowan

It’s been two weeks since I told Bex that I’m pregnant, and I’ve stayed every night at his penthouse since then. Each morning, when I wake up wrapped in his arms and he tells me, half-asleep, that this is the only way he ever wants to wake up. That his penthouse never felt like home until now that I’m in it. And that tells me that I’m right where I need to be.

After the first night that I stayed in his penthouse, he didn’t just clear out the spare room, he transformed it for me. The office, which used to be cluttered with playbooks and old equipment, is now filled with color and light, with art pieces chosen by Harper. She found these breathtaking abstract pieces, full of vibrant swirls and delicate brushstrokes, adding life and energy to the room. And there’s a special piece from a local artist in Liverpool that Leo sent me as a “Welcome to the team” present for my new temporary office until we make our move overseas. The painting that Bex bought me hangs in the large living room where I can admire it everyday.

There’s a brand new desk by the window, a corner chair for reading, and enough storage space to hold every document Leo could throw at me in this new role as Editor-in-Chief.

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