Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Comforting,” I said flatly, but the corners of my lips curled a bit. He wasn’t wrong.
When the guys had helped me come up with a plan for the evening, I’d suckered all of them into being involved one way or another. I wanted every step of the night to feel luxurious, VIP treatment from beginning to end. And I didn’t just want strangers doing all the pampering. I wanted it to be our friends.
Our family.
I wanted to remind Livia that no matter what, even when things got difficult between us — which they inevitably would — we were never alone. We’d always have love and support around us.
I didn’t fill the girls in on the plan, though. For some reason, that didn’t feel like my place. I knew Livia would want to tell them in her own way and in her own time. So, all the girlfriends and wives believed we were having a guys’ night on the golf course, sneaking in a few rounds without Coach knowing.
In reality, Vince was playing limousine chauffeur. He’d picked Livia up at five from her condo and had her en route to us now. They were just a few minutes out, and it felt like the longest stretch of time in my life — more so than any period of hockey I’d ever played.
The rest of the guys were here with me, each committed to their role. Will was the bodyguard and gatekeeper. He’d go downstairs to receive Livia when she arrived, walking her through the lobby and into the elevator like she was a celebrity being ushered into a private dinner.
Aleks had been tasked with all the details, and while it had felt like the biggest mistake when I agreed to let him handle that side of things, he’d surprised the hell out of me. The rooftop was beautiful enough without embellishment, but Aleks had transformed it into something out of a dream. A long table was dressed in a sleek black runner, the surface scattered with dark roses, low bowls of floating tea lights, and candles in staggered heights that flickered like fireflies in the evening breeze. He’d hung string lights from the pergola in a way that made the whole place glow, cozy and intimate but still elegant. Soft linen napkins, polished silver, wine glasses that looked like they belonged in some five-star joint — he’d thought of everything.
And, because it was Aleks, he’d added the most ridiculous touch: place cards. He’d written my name and Livia’s in elaborate cursive on thick cardstock and propped them up against the plates like we were at a gala instead of my half-baked attempt at romance. But when I saw the way the whole scene came together — romantic, intentional, and just a little over-the-top — I couldn’t even be mad.
Jaxson was the DJ for the evening. He’d taken over playlist duty, ignoring every text suggestion I’d sent him. Now, a beat-heavy jazz song floated over the rooftop, the kind of music that felt sultry and alive, and it reminded me instantly of Liv. I supposed I could trust that he’d done the job well.
And then there was Zamboni, running around with his tail wagging and sniffer going nuts as he inspected every corner of the space. His job was gift-holder, the poor bastard, and he wore my little secret in a box strapped to his back by way of a doggie hiking vest, completely oblivious to the treasure inside.
It meant everything to me, having the guys there, having them participate. They were giving up their Sunday night to help me make a statement to a woman I loved more than anything in the world, and I would never forget that they showed up for me.
Will’s phone buzzed in his hand.
“She’s here,” he said, glancing at me before heading for the elevator. “Try not to puke before she makes it upstairs.”
Jaxson raised his glass in salute, already manning the speaker with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got Barry White queued if things get awkward. Nothing sets the mood like deep baritone and a saxophone solo.”
“Christ,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand down my face.
Aleks smirked from where he adjusted the lanterns strung across the railing. “Ignore him. Everything’s ready. Just breathe, Fabio.”
Easier said than done, I thought, but I did my best to force air in and out of my lungs. I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders and swallowing what felt like sandpaper in my throat. My hands were too big suddenly, too awkward, and I couldn’t figure out what the hell to do with them. I alternated between cracking my knuckles, smoothing my sports coat, and shoving them in my pockets.
The ding of the elevator snapped through the rooftop like the starting gun of a race.
My pulse lurched, stomach twisting violently like I was on a rollercoaster that just did a loop before dumping me into a nosedive.