Page 89 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband
"Shut up, Torres."
"I'm serious. You're overthinking this because you're in love and you want to make the perfect decision that makes everyone happy. But maybe there isn't a perfect decision."
"Thanks. That's super helpful."
"What I mean is," Jamie continues, "maybe you need to stop trying to control all the variables and just focus on what feels right."
"What feels right is keeping our family together," Alexei says firmly. "But what feels right also is not holding back friend from dreams."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text from Tessa:
Done with meetings. Can you come to my apartment? We need to talk.
The fact that she wants to talk instead of just saying what she needs to say over text makes my stomach clench.
"I have to go," I tell the guys. "But thank you. For the honesty, for having my back, for being the best fucking teammates a guy could ask for."
"Whatever you decide," Luca says as I'm gathering my stuff, "we support you. But don't make this decision based on what you think we want or need. Make it based on what's right for you and Tessa."
Two hours later, I'm standing outside Tessa's apartment door, and I can hear her pacing inside. Which is never a good sign.
She opens the door before I can knock, looking like she's been stress-cleaning again. Her hair is escaping from its ponytail, there's a smudge of something on her cheek, and she's wearing bike shorts and an old band t-shirt that's seen better days.
"Hey," I say, stepping inside and immediately pulling her into my arms. "You okay?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know." She melts against me for a second before pulling back. "We need to talk about Boston."
“I know.” I catch her hands in mine, needing the anchor. “I’ve been turning it over in my head, and I know what I want. But this isn’t just my call—it’s ours. We said we’d decide together, and I meant it.”
“So where is your head right now?” she asks.
“Sitting in that room with the guys, talking about leaving Chicago, leaving everything we've built here—it felt wrong. Really fucking wrong."
"But it's Boston. Your childhood dream team."
"My childhood dreams were about being eight years old and wanting to be like Bobby Orr. I'm not eight anymore, Tessa. I'm twenty-eight, and what I want now is completely different."
"So what do you want now?"
"You. This. Waking up in Chicago knowing that the woman I love is building something incredible here. Playing for a team that went to war for us when everything went to shit. Building a life that's ours, not just mine. But I also want to know where you stand on this decision right now. It’s your life too."
Her eyes are getting that gold flecked look that means she's fighting tears. She swallows hard. “I’d be lying if I said the offer doesn’t tempt me. The security, the recognition…part of me wonders if we’d be stupid to walk away.”
“You’re right—it’s tempting. Any sane person would think we’re crazy to pass it up. But here’s the thing: a life that only looks good on paper isn’t enough. I want the one that feels right. And that’s here, with you. But what about you, Tess? Do you see your future here too—or does part of you still want Boston?”
She takes a shaky breath. “The Boston offer is incredible, the stability, the validation. But when I really picture my life there…I don’t see myself. I don’t see us. What feels real—is right here.”
I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. "Besides, Boston might have been my dream when I was a kid, but you know what my real dream is now?"
"What?"
"Winning a Cup with the Chicago Renegades. Becoming captain of the team that believed in us when nobody else would. Retiring knowing I helped build something special with my chosen family." I lean my forehead against hers. "And doing all of that while coming home to you every night."
"That's a pretty good dream," she whispers.
"The best dream. And the thing about Boston? That was someone else's version of success. This—what we have here—this is mine."
"Are you sure? Because once you turn them down, there probably won't be another offer like that."
