Page 14 of Cold Feet
"That works," I said, refocusing on my tablet. "It gives us a catalyst – a special moment where our professional relationship shifted."
"We can say we started talking more personally during the playoff run, and after the win..." Cam's voice trailed off, his expression suddenly thoughtful.
"What?" I prompted.
"I finally worked up the courage to kiss you," he finished, his voice dropping lower. "At the team celebration. When everyone was distracted by Logan's Cup speech."
I looked up, caught off-guard by the specificity in his tone, like he was describing a real memory rather than fabricating one. "Seems like you've thought aboutthis a bit."
He took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving mine over the rim of his glass. "Just filling in details. Making it real."
Something about his intensity made me shift in my seat. "Okay. So we started dating in February, kept it quiet because of my position with the team and Zayne's..."
"Overprotectiveness?" Cam suggested delicately.
"Homicidal tendencies where my dating life is concerned," I corrected dryly.
Cam laughed, the sound bright and genuine, drawing glances from a nearby table. "Fair enough. So we've been sneaking around for eight months, and now...?"
"Now we feel secure enough in our relationship to go public."
"So, who made the first move? For real?" he asked, running a finger along the condensation on his glass.
"You already said you kissed me after the Cup win."
"I meant in our story. But in general, too." He leaned back, studying me with unexpected intensity. "I'm curious about how you see this playing out. In your mind, am I the pursuer or the pursued?"
I considered this, trying to separate my professional assessment from the strange flutter in my stomach. "With your public image, people would expect you to make the move. But for it to be believable as something serious rather than one of your... usual encounters, there should be hesitation. Respect."
"So I pursued you, but carefully. Respectfully." He nodded slowly. "That tracks. Though for the record, I don't think I'd have had the patience to wait through eight months of secret dating before telling the world."
"It's a story, Cam. Not a reality show."
He shrugged, a casual motion that somehow emphasized the breadth of his shoulders under his t-shirt. "Even fictional characters need consistent motivations." I’d forgotten he was a reader.
"Fine. You pursued. I was reluctant because of professional boundaries. You wore me down with your charm and... whatever it is your fans see in you."
"My devastating good looks and scoring record?" he suggested with a grin.
"Right. That and your humility, clearly."
We both laughed, and for a moment, it feltalmost normal – just two people having lunch, not constructing an elaborate deception.
"What about the proposal story?" Cam asked after our laughter had subsided. "We need something memorable but not too public."
"We're not actually claiming we're engaged, remember?" I reminded him, tapping my pen against my tablet for emphasis. "Just... heavily implying it."
"Still need a story for the ring. People will ask." His expression turned serious. "Trust me, they always ask."
I sighed, knowing he was right. "Something simple. Spontaneous. A private moment that feels authentic."
"The beach," Cam said immediately, leaning forward. "Last month, sunset walk. No witnesses except maybe a few distant beachgoers. I didn't plan it, didn't have a ring yet, but the moment was right."
I blinked at him. "That's... actually perfect."
"Told you I could be creative when motivated." His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I wondered what exactly his motivation was. Oh yeah, four and a half million dollars. "What else do we need? Favorite couple activities?"
I consulted my list, grateful for the return to concrete details. "Things we supposedly do together. Movies, shows, hobbies. The little details that make a relationship feel real."
