I hear his footsteps, and then the door to his condo closes, and the quietness signals I’m alone.
The tears fall again for a minute before I decide that I don’t want to be here anymore. This place feels empty and devoid of life without his presence.
Since I didn’t wash my makeup off before going to bed last night, I’m sure I have tear tracks running down my face from all my crying so I make my way into the bathroom and turn on the water in the large walk-in shower.
One glance in the mirror confirms my suspicion. I look horrid.
I step into the shower and soak myself under the warm spray, but no matter how long I stay there, memories of the showers Brock and I used to take here assault me, and I slide my back down the shower wall. Huge racking sobs leave my lips, and I huddle down in the corner of the shower, pulling my knees to my chest and leaning my head down.
I don’t know how long I’m there for, long enough that my muscles grow stiff when I hear something, and my head shoots up.
Brock stands in front of me—in the shower—fully dressed.
“Did you forget something?” I croak, my throat dry from crying.
“Yeah… you.”
My mouth drops open and hope swells in my chest, no matter how much I try to tell myself not to get my hopes up.
Brock holds his hand out to help me up off the floor and I stand slowly. Before I can say another word, he cups my cheeks and steps under the spray with me. “I told myself last night that it wasn’t fair of me to ask you to join me in Florida. I’d be asking you to give up everything you know—your friends, your career—and I know how important your career is for you. I support that. But I can’t get on that plane without you knowing that I want you to come, Kelsey. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone, ever. And I want you with me, even if it’s selfish as fuck for me to ask you to come. But I do, I want—no screw that—I need you there with me. Is that something you could ever consider?”
“What… what about your flight? You’re going to miss it.” I can hardly believe he’s here saying these things to me.
“I don’t give a shit about the flight. I’ll catch the next one. Or I’ll be late. Kels, did you hear anything I just said?”
I nod, biting down on my lip. “I heard, I just… I can’t believe it.”
His eyes frantically trace my face. “I know it’s a big ask. A huge ask. And I know we haven’t been together that long, but I’m telling you, Kels, I’d ask you to marry me today if I didn’t think it’d have you running for the hills. I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”
I blink a few times and settle into the reality that a minute ago I was sobbing over losing him and now he’s here doing exactly what I wanted.
“I’m just shocked because the whole time you were walking out the door, I was praying you’d turn around and ask me to come. I’ll move across the country with you. I’ll quit my job and start over. I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you because I love you. I’m sorry, I should have told you that a long time ago. I love you! And I can’t be without you either.”
“Really?” The delight in his eyes makes my soul sing and I laugh as I shake my head.
I wrap my arms around him and drag him down for a kiss. The warm water runs over our faces as we funnel everything that we’re feeling into our kiss.
When we break apart, Brock looks down at me. “This means we can tell people we’re together now, right?”
I smack him lightly on the chest and laugh. “Yes.”
A ding sounds on his phone and he steps from the shower, his clothes dripping everywhere and grabs the phone from where he must’ve left it on the counter and looks at the screen. “Huh.”
“What is it?”
“I just got a text that my flight has been delayed. Maybe life isn’t conspiring against us after all.”
“Does this mean you have time to fuck me against the shower wall?”
He’s already pulling off his sopping wet clothes before the question leaves my mouth.
I can’t wait to spend my life with this man and I don’t care who knows it.
EPILOGUE
Eight Years Later…
Kelsey
Brock had a good seven-year run with the Florida Fury, earning them three Cup titles. But he retired from hockey last year and since then we’ve been trying to figure out how we wanted to live our lives.
We both admitted that we missed San Francisco and so we’re moving back. Today is our last day in our house in Florida and I’m feeling more emotional than I expected.
After I left the West Coast, I still maintained my friendship with Whitney, Tahlia, and Lennon, heading there to visit them whenever I could, and they came out to stay with us and catch some games over the years. So I’m looking forward to being back with my girls and resuming our wine nights.
And I can’t wait to show our four-year-old, Bryson, around the city. He’s only ever known the Gulf Coast, so I’m excited to introduce him to a different coast and to take long hikes through the redwoods.
“You just about done?” Brock steps into the room and comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist to cover my lower abdomen.
We have a little secret between us. We’re expecting again, though only the two of us know. We figure we’d share that news with everyone face to face once we’re back in San Francisco.
Brock says he’s hoping it’s a girl, and I don’t really care one way or the other if I’m honest, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love being a boy mom.
In fact, after I had him, I didn’t go back to work. I’d found a job as a weekend news anchor for the sports segment shortly after we arrived in Florida, but after Bryson arrived, I figured out that I liked being a full-time mom, much to my surprise.
I’d always been so and strived to prove myself that a part of me rallied against it, but I figured it was okay because it was what I was choosing for myself, not bowing to the pressure of my family or society for what they thought I should do with my life.
“How’re my girls?” Brock tongued my earlobe, something he knew drove me wild.
I elbowed him in the gut. “You don’t know that.”
I turned, and he scowled at me playfully while he rubbed at his abdomen. No chance my little elbow had hurt all those layers of muscle.
“I know. You’ll see.”
I chuckled. “Yes, we will.”
“Mommy!” Bryson ran into the master bath where I was packing away the last few items I’d used this morning.
“Whoa, slow down, bud. You’re gonna run right into your mom.” He quickly bent and grabbed Bryson by the waist, lifting him up off the ground.
His little feet were still going in the air and I stepped over to him as Brock set him down.
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“Gamma said that she’d take me out back so I could walk on the beach one last time if it was okay with you.”
“She did, did she?”
“Uh-huh. So can I go?” He grinned up at me with a smile the same as his father’s. It was hard not to melt into a puddle of goo when he did that.