Ana wipes a tear from her cheek with the side of her hand, sniffling out a thank you before saying her good-byes to everyone, promising me that we’ll do yoga again before I go and that she’ll text me when she’s safe at home.
“Let me know who wins the game,” she says with a forced smile as Grant helps her into her coat, then holds the door open for her on their way out.
I have no qualms about them leaving together. From the limited time I’ve spent with him, I know Grant is a good guy. Unlike Jason, apparently.
Sara clears her throat, breaking the painful silence in the room. “Um, do you guys still want to play the game?”
“Let’s just move on,” Bailey says. “Since Jordie is flying solo now.”
We all agree to call it a tie on the trivia game and opt for the game Becca planned, which involves diapering baby dolls. It feels a bit more suited for a baby shower than tonight’s celebration, but I’m half a glass of champagne in, so I can’t be bothered to ask too many questions.
I proudly claim the gold medal as the fastest person to diaper the stiff baby doll, but Asher’s years of practice as an uncle gets him the most diapers taken off and put on in a minute. Meanwhile, Landon can hardly figure out how to open the diaper packaging.
“I didn’t think it was possible to be that bad at this, babe.” I laugh, cringing as my husband literally puts the doll’s head through one of the leg holes.
“This is hard.” He groans, handing the doll over to me. “Can you do it?”
“No way.” I down the rest of the glass of champagne, shaking my head. “You’ll need the practice if we’re ever going to have one of these for real.”
“Speaking of which, I made something for you guys,” Bailey says, frantically thumbing through the photos on her phone. When she lands on what she’s looking for, she pushes a button and projects onto the screen an image with baby pictures of the both of us, and the words CONGRATS, LANDON AND AUBREE! in big, curly letters.
My eyes gloss over the familiar shot of me in my stroller, my dark curls tumbling out of my winter hat. I’m a bit more concerned with the oversize child who, despite being bald, looks like he weighs the same as a toddler.
“Oh my God, Landon, you were a giant baby!” Elise squawks.
“Well, procreating is out of the question.” I laugh, only half sarcastic. No way am I pushing anything the size of that out of my lady parts.
“I wasn’t that big,” Landon says. “Ten or eleven pounds tops, when I was born.”
My eyes widen. “Are you kidding me? Huh-uh. No way.”
Landon waves off my comment. “Oh, come on. We both know you want kids.”
“I did. Past tense. Not anymore.” I fold my arms over my chest, nodding toward the humongous infant on the screen. Who is this man’s father? The jolly green giant?
“We’re going to make pretty babies someday, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead, completely undeterred by the fact that I’m still gawking at the screen.
“I quite like my pelvic floor where it’s currently at, thank you very much.” I scoff, playfully shoving him off me.
“I’m going to knock you up, Aubree. Just face it.”
I smile, giving his cheek a gentle pat. “No way. We’ll adopt.”
He chuckles, but then his blue eyes lock with mine. I watch them shift from playful to serious in a split second, and feel the weight of the moment. Despite us being surrounded by our friends, something about this feels like it’s just between the two of us. Like we’ve found this bit of privacy in a crowded room.
God, I love him. This crazy, stubborn, sweet man.
“Whatever you want,” he says on an exhale. “But either way, I can’t wait to watch you become a mom.”
“And that’s our cue to go,” Owen says, hopping to his feet. He shoots Landon a wink as he corrals the rest of our friends toward the door. “Party’s over, you guys. I think somebody’s got twenty-three years of sexual repression to make up for.”
And make up for it, we will.
But first, Landon pulls me close for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you, baby.”
“And I love you,” I murmur, touching the stubble on his cheek.
Epilogue
* * *
Landon
Six weeks later
“Nice try, fucker,” Asher says, skating past me and managing to steal the puck like it’s effortless for him.
And maybe it is, because as much as I’ve tried to tell myself that tonight’s game is just another game, it’s becoming obvious that it’s more than that. It’s the first time I’ve seen my old teammates since I got traded to the Vancouver Rebels. And it’s only the second time I’ve skated in my new red jersey. Let’s just say I might be feeling the pressure.
I sprint to catch up with him, checking him hard into the corner. “Can’t let you make me look like a punk in my own house. Especially not with my wife watching in the stands.”
“I’m not going to go easy on you.” Asher grunts, freeing himself from my hold.
“Never asked you to.”
I focus my attention on getting down the ice, crossing the blue line as I snap off a pass to my new teammate, Arvi Cedrik, a funny-as-hell guy from Finland. I get into position and he slaps it back to me, and with a one-timer Arvi and I practiced over and over this week, I find Owen’s five-hole, scoring the first point of the night, and my first ever goal as a Rebel.
The Vancouver crowd goes wild, and the air horn gives a sharp blast.
Fuck yeah.
I can’t deny how good that felt. My team surrounds me, thumping me on the back and helmet in congratulations.
“I’m going to kick your ass for that, Covey!” Owen shouts over to me.
“Keep dreaming, Parrish!” I call back, grinning like an idiot.
Just as play gets back underway, I’m checked hard into the wall by Jordie. “Hey, fucker, how’s Canada?”
“Cold,” I say with a laugh. I’m still grinning as I make my way down the ice.
“Red looks terrible on you,” Asher says at the next face-off.
Teddy nods his agreement. “Awful.”
“I don’t know,” I say with a chuckle. “I’ve been told I pull it off.”
Next up, Grant slams into me with the force of a semi truck. “We’re not friends on the ice anymore, rookie. But it’s fucking good to see you owning the ice up here.”
“I was taught by the best.”
He shakes his head before stealing the puck from me and skating toward Justin.
Bastard.
A minute later, I skate back to the bench, ready to give our second line a shift and to catch my breath. When I step over the wall, my gaze finds Aubree in the stands. She’s smiling huge and chatting with Arvi’s wife and their six-year-old son.
That’s when everything becomes crystal clear to me.
It doesn’t matter what color jersey I’m wearing, or what team I’m playing on, or where I’m living, because wherever Aubree is, that will always be my home. And just because they’re not my teammates anymore doesn’t make these guys any less my friends. It’s hard to wipe the smile from my face after that.