Page 100 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

“I mean it, Holly,” I say, my voice rough with everything I’ve been holding back. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.”

Her hand reaches up, fingers brushing along my jaw, and there’s a softness in her gaze that makes my chest tighten.“Then don’t.” Holly takes a breath, visible in the freezing air, before letting out a half-nervous, half-laughing sound. “There’s something I need to tell you. I know it’s big, and maybe the timing is all wrong, but I’m pregnant…” Her hands slide over her stomach, just for a moment, and it clicks.

The realization hits me like the sudden warmth of sunlight breaking through clouds. I just stare, taking her in—this woman who’s somehow fit perfectly into every corner of my heart, now holding something more, something miraculous.

“You’re pregnant?” I breathe, the words almost catching in my throat.

She nods, eyes filling with tears that she tries to brush away with a laugh. “I am. I am,” she says, stepping closer, her face softening. “I know what this means, and I know it’s going to be a lot, but I?—”

I can’t hold back any longer; I pull her into my arms, pressing her close, my heart hammering against hers. A rush of relief, of pure joy, sweeps through me, more powerful than anything I’ve felt since I lost David. And for the first time, the future feels like something I want, something I can almost reach out and grasp.

“Holly,” I murmur, voice choked. “This—this is everything. I want this. I want us to be a family.” My hand finds her face, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I don’t want to make the mistakes my family did. I want us. All of it. With you by my side.”

She smiles through her own happy tears, one hand resting on my cheek. “You’re sure? I mean, a family—raising kids—it’s huge.”

I pull her close again, feeling her heartbeat against mine, a beautiful rhythm that grounds me. “I’ve never been surer of anything. We’ll do it right, Holly. I’m ready to build a life. A real one, with you and…” My hand hovers over her stomach, eyes wide with awe and a kind of reverence I didn’t know I had. “And our child.”

I lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that feels like coming home, like everything I didn’t know I was missing. She melts into me, her arms wrapping around my neck as the world fades away, leaving just us, just this moment.

When we finally pull back, breathless and grinning, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Hope.

I hold her close, the snow falling gently around us, and for the first time I know that this Christmas I’ve found something worth holding on to.

EPILOGUE

Holly

Six months pregnant, waddling through the entrance to a packed stadium lounge, I’ve never felt so ginormous and glowing in my life. And okay, maybe slightly nauseous after Lauren took every curb like she was auditioning for NASCAR.

Lauren, meanwhile, fusses beside me like a scorned yet secretly hopeful soap opera star, clutching her purse like it’s the one thing keeping her from bolting.

“Don’t know why I even agreed to this,” she grumbles. “Everyone from the team’s going to be there, and you know who I’m talking about—him,” she adds, rolling her eyes in Ryan’s general direction, though he’s nowhere in sight.

“Oh, ‘him,’” I echo, loading the word with every ounce of teasing I can muster. “The guy who, dare I say, texts you until midnight? Sends you those cute little basketball emojis?”

She rolls her eyes at me, and I can’t help but grin. Honestly, it’s hilarious watching my sister-friend, always the cool-headed, chic counselor, go weak-kneed for Ryan Connors. “He’s … well,he’s funny,” she mutters, glancing around. “And, well never mind!”

“Oh, ‘never mind,’ my foot.” I beam, nudging her. “You like him, and it’s adorable. I’m not even mad its taking attention off my bump.”

Inside, the room is buzzing. Laughter, the clink of glasses, and the smell of overpriced cologne hang in the air, filling me with a kind of warmth I didn’t realize I’d been craving. Ever since Ethan led the Blizzards to victory—courtesy of a jaw-dropping, last-second goal—we’ve all been riding a wave of pure elation. Ethan, especially, seems different. Lighter. Happier. More willing to be present with everyone instead of that brooding shadow thing he does so well.

As we weave our way into the room, I catch sight of him across the floor, dressed in that annoyingly perfect way he manages even when he claims he “threw something on.” Eyes as clear and steady as ever, even though he has no idea I’m watching. There’s no mistaking it now—Ethan Carter is glowing, too.

The Blizzards, for their part, have been just as radiant in their loyalty to him. I’ll admit, I got a little misty-eyed when they rallied around him as the media uncovered the mess with his family. It’s amazing to witness how his name’s been cleared, along with his dignity. And tonight is as much a celebration of that as it is of the game.

Lauren’s busy admiring the spread—this absurd display of canapés and petit fours that look more like art than food—when I feel a hand slide into mine. I turn, and there he is. Ethan. Calm, a little mischievous, and looking at me as though I’m the only person in the room.

“Hey, you.” His voice is soft, but his eyes have a spark tonight.

“Hey yourself,” I reply, trying not to swoon too visibly. “Nice party you guys have got going here. Big win.”

His smile broadens. “Well, you know, big team, big celebration. But I think they left something out.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, playing along. “And what’s that?”

“Well…” he clears his throat, looking bashfully at the floor before his eyes find mine again. “You.”

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