Page 70 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

“I love it.” She covered her eyes and shook her head. “Stupid pregnancy hormones. I tear up at everything. Ugh.”

“I think it’s sweet.” I handed her a tissue from the box by the door. Duncan had been the one to suggest we have them handy, and I gave him a grateful smile when Miranda took it and wiped her face. “We wanted you to have a place here.”

“A place where we could be a family together,” Patrick added.

“We’d like all of us to move in together. And we wanted to ask you to move here. Permanently.” Duncan finished off the request with a comforting hug. “And we’re fully prepared to accept it if you say no.”

“I’m glad you brought it up, because I have news too.” She twisted the tissue into shreds and grabbed another from the side table. We’d gone with hand-carved furniture, most of it antique since she favored that style and the warm tones. “I put my condo up for sale. It’s already under contract. I was planning on moving here anyway. And this is perfect. I want to see every inch.”

Duncan waited until she’d blown her nose and stopped sniffling to speak. “Before we do that, we thought you might be hungry after the trip. We cooked. Well.” He shot Patrick and me dirty looks. “I cooked and they tried to help.”

“I helped.” I toed off my shoes and lined them up beside the door. Everyone else followed suit, and we padded in our socked feet across the gray hardwood floor.

Miranda tipped her head back to look at the chandelier before catching up. “Seriously. You all did a great job. I couldn’t have made better design choices.” She took my hand, stopping again when we entered the kitchen. “Okay, well, I know exactly who set this up.” She pointed at Duncan. “This is just like your kitchen.”

He shrugged carelessly but we all saw the spark in his eyes leap to life. “Why mess with perfection?” He motioned for us all to sit at the round table already set up with plates and silverware.

Patrick poured drinks for everyone, ice water all around, before he sat opposite Miranda.

She looked from one end of the table to the other. “You made enough food for a dozen people.”

“Have you seen us eat?” Raising his knife and fork, Duncan pointed at each of us in turn. “Plus, we’re in training mode. Coach wants us to bulk up a bit more before the Stanley Cup.”

The reminder shivered through me. For the first time in my career, we had an honest to god shot at playing in the finals.

Every now and then, Miranda rubbed her stomach. I reached out, my hand hovering over hers. “Can I?”

She nodded, the move crisp but somehow uncertain. “You won’t feel them move yet. I just can’t get over how my body’s changing. I swear, between one day and the next, I outgrew all my clothes. I bought this yesterday, and I am now the proud owner of a dozen pairs of stretchy pants.”

Seeing the small, rounded ball of her stomach did something to me. Love so powerful it brought tears to my eyes rose up and swallowed me whole. “I love you.” The words were nowhere near enough to tell her the depth of my feelings. “I love seeing your body change. You have our children in there. It’s miraculous.”

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