Page 85 of Huge Pucking Play

Throughout the appetizer and main course, we talk about everything and nothing—the team's chances in the upcoming games, PT progress with the players, names for the baby that we both know we'll never actually use. (She suggests "Puck." I counter with "Zamboni." And we laugh so hard she almost pees her panties.)

As dessert arrives—a chocolate soufflé that makes Cyn moan in a way that sends my thoughts in naughty directions—I know it's time.

"Cyn," I say, reaching across the table for her hand. "These past few months have been the best of my life."

She sets down her spoon, her expression softening. "Mine too."

"When we found out about the baby, I was scared. I'm still scared. But I'm also happier than I've ever been."

Her fingers tighten around mine. "Same."

"The thing is," I continue, my heart hammering, "I've realized something. Something important." I take a deep breath. "I love you, Cyn. Not because of the baby. Not because you know more about hockey than I do. I just love you. Everything about you."

Her eyes shine in the candlelight. For a moment, she's silent, and I feel a flash of panic. Then she squeezes my hand.

"I love you too, Garrett."

Four simple words that change everything. I rise from my chair, pulling her to her feet and into my arms. Our lips meet, and I feel that spark again—the one I felt the first time we kissed. Only now it's deeper, richer with meaning.

When we break apart, she's smiling. "Is that why you brought me here? To tell me you love me?"

"Partly." I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box. Her eyes widen, and I quickly shake my head. "It's not a ring. Not yet. Although..." I trail off, not wanting to scare her.

She laughs. "Open it, then."

Inside is a key. A key to my condo, with a little hockey puck keychain.

"I know we're doing this backward," I say. "Baby first, then falling in love. But I want to do the rest right. Move in with me, Cyn. I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up with you every morning."

She looks at the key, then at me. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Her answer is another kiss, this one filled with promise. Against my lips, she whispers, "I’d love to move in with you, Garrett."

We sit back down and Cyn turns the key over in her palm, her fingers trembling slightly. Tears shine in her eyes, but she's smiling—a small, almost bewildered smile that tugs at my heart. I've seen her confident, I've seen her passionate, I've seen her professional and focused. But this—this quiet vulnerability—this is new.

“Everything is suddenly very real."

I pull my chair closer to hers, our knees touching under the table. "Too real?"

"No." She shakes her head firmly. "Not too real. Just...I didn't expect this. Any of this." Her hand drifts to her stomach. "I was super focused on establishing myself with the team, paying off my student loans, proving myself. And now..."

"Now you're still doing all of that," I remind her. "Plus growing a human. And putting up with me."

Her smile widens and she laughs.

I take her hand, the one holding the key. "I want you to know something. I'd be asking you this even if there wasn't a little person on the way. I want to be with you as much as I can, Cyn. I want to rub your feet at the end on the couch while we talk about our days. I want to take long walks with you and Oscar. I want all of it."

"I know this is fast. I know you value your independence. But I'm not asking you to give that up. We'll figure out the details—whose furniture stays, how we handle finances, all of it. I just know I want you in my life. Every day."

She's quiet for a long moment, her thumb rubbing absently over the key. "I've been so careful my whole life," she finally says. "Working three jobs to put myself through school. Never letting myself get too attached to anyone because I had goals. My momdid everything alone after my dad left, and I always promised myself I'd never depend on anyone else." She looks up at me. "But this—us—it doesn't feel like dependence. It feels like a true partnership."

Relief flows through me. "That's exactly what I want. Partnership."

"When do you want to start moving your things?" I ask, already mentally rearranging my closet to make room for her clothes.

"This weekend?" She says excitedly. "I can start with the essentials. The lease on my apartment is up in two months anyway."

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