Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
He draws in a breath, his voice soft but certain.
“You didn’t simply walk into my life—you brought light with you. Music. Joy. A kind of peace I didn’t even know I was missing until you gave it to me. And now, I don’t want a single version of the future that doesn’t have you in it.”
He opens the box, revealing a ring that glints under the spotlight. My heart hammers at how this is all unfolding. It’s romance on steroids.
“So, I’m asking, right here, in front of everyone so you can’t say no—will you marry me, Mazzy Archer?”
The room explodes. Applause. Whistles. Mazzy gasps, starts to say something, but his fingertips press her lips shut. “Wait a minute before you say a word. I have one more thing.”
She frowns at him, tries to speak, and he puts his entire hand over her mouth. Turning back to Bowie Jane, he motions her up. When Mazzy sees her, she practically melts as her gaze softens. Foster’s hand falls away.
Bowie Jane bounds up onto the stage, unbuttons her jean jacket and spreads it wide. Everyone starts laughing as they see written in red sparkles, Please Say Yes!
Mazzy’s eyes turn liquid and she nods as tears slip free. She launches off the stool into Foster’s arms and they both pull Bowie Jane in. Mazzy puts her mouth near his ear as she hugs him tight and then Foster leans into the mic and says, “She said yes!”
The place goes wild. More cheers erupt and I’m clapping so hard my palms sting. I glance back at Lucky and he winks at me. “Pretty awesome, right?”
“So awesome,” I say, turning back to watch the spectacle.
Foster slides the ring on her finger and I look around, blinking back tears. Mila’s openly sobbing. Penn has her tucked into his chest. Even Atlas is misty-eyed.
Lucky leans in and presses a kiss to my temple. “Best proposal I’ve ever seen.”
“Me too,” I say softly.
He doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps his arm around me, grounding me. And I let myself melt into it.
And I manage to forget about the nastiness from those women, convinced more than ever that I’m meant to be with Lucky.
CHAPTER 29
Lucky
There was a time—hell, most of my adult life, really—when I thought proposals were for guys wired differently than me. The ones who bought matching pajama sets as a couple, who remembered anniversaries, who saw a ring and thought of forever instead of panic. Living in the hockey world with a bunch of other single playboy types shaped a lot of that.
Then last night happened.
I watched Foster commit himself in the boldest way possible, and instead of feeling cynical or indifferent, something cracked wide open in my chest. Like maybe that kind of love isn’t as unreachable as I’ve always assumed. Like maybe it could happen for a guy like me.
I fell asleep next to Winnie still thinking about it—about her sleepy smile and the way she curled into me.
Like we belonged together.
Now, walking into the Titans’ private terminal lounge with a travel coffee in one hand and my duffel slung over my shoulder, I’m still smiling like an idiot. It’s early, just past seven, and the lobby buzzes with low conversation, the crinkle of breakfast wrappers, and Kace Elliott trying to stack doughnuts on top of his hockey stick for a TikTok. I think I’ve inspired him.
“Look who finally showed,” Atlas says, eyeing the branded bakery bag in my hand. “What’s in there, Branson?”
“Pumpkin scone and hazelnut latte.”
“No goodbye breakfast with your girl?” he asks with a smirk.
“She’s apparently doing brunch with the girls.” It was something they all decided after several celebratory drinks last night. Besides, she was sleeping so peacefully when it was time to get up, I didn’t have the heart to disturb her. I slipped out after a soft kiss and pinned a note to the outside of Buttermilk’s cage so she’ll see it when she wakes up.
That is, if the damn rabbit doesn’t eat it first.
I drop my duffel, plop down in a chair beside North and pull out my phone. “Here… hold this,” I say to him.
He blinks in surprise but takes my phone. I angle his way. “Turn the screen toward me,” I instruct.
He does so and I put the camera on me and press record. North rolls his eyes as he realizes he’s become my cameraman.
“Packing for a four-day road trip, hockey edition,” I narrate as I pull my bag onto my lap and start pulling out items. “Winnie swears by this lip balm.” North snorts and shakes his head. “I brought a Sudoku book, even though I suck at it.” I rummage further. “Oh, here’s a water bottle Win made for me with my name in bubble letters and a shamrock.” I hold it out to the camera, rotate it. “So cute. And look… a neatly folded hoodie that definitely isn’t mine. I swear I didn’t throw that in there because it smells like Winnie.”