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“No pressure,” he says, as he presses his chest to my back and wraps his arms around my waist. All I can do is laugh and stare at the ring box through tear curtained eyes. “Do you want to see it? Sadie Baby picked it out.”
“Oh, god,” I say, both of us laughing now. “I can only imagine.”
“You don’t have to imagine it, just open it.”
“Did you really let her pick it out,” I ask, picking up the smooth box and running my finger along the seam.
“Completely. I gave zero input.”
“You’re brave, Wylder.”
“So are you.”
Inside the box I find a soft gold band lined with tiny sparkling stones, with a singular pink princess cut diamond taking prominence. It’s simple, like me, and Sadie’s favorite color.
“It’s kind of fucking perfect,” I say quietly, turning in Cillian’s arms so I can see his face. “You sure you want to do this forever thing with me?”
“I want eternity with you, Isla. This life and the next, and all the ones after that. We’ll always find each other.”
“Then, yes. To this life and all the rest.”
SADIE
MANY YEARS LATER
My father scored the goal that won his team the Stanley Cup the year he came back to Seattle. The year he won back my mother’s heart. It was the seventh game of the series against New York. They were tied at the end of the third period, 2-2. I rewatch the game at least once a year, so I know with great detail how Koch made a perfect pass for my dad to one time into the net just forty-seven seconds into sudden death overtime.
He's been my hero for as long as I can remember, but that night he became Seattle’s hero, too. Luckily, I’m good at sharing him. Mostly because he’s never shown me anything but love and adoration. He’s a little obsessed with his children. It goes both ways.
Their love story is one they’ve told often enough for me to know it by heart. The first time I was old enough to understand it, I was angry at them both. It’s hard to understand how two people so perfect for each other caused themselves so much misery. And they really are perfect together. They balance one another, each with qualities that smooth the other’s rough edges.
My anger didn’t last, of course, because they’re nauseating in love with each other now and that’s the only way I really remember them being. The years without my dad are vague and blurry.
I remember Mom being sad a lot back then. She hasn’t been that in a long time now, though. My siblings never witnessed that version of her. It’s something I’m thankful for. Because my mother is a ray of fucking sunshine with a temper as hot as the sun if you fuck with her family, and that’s all they ever need to know about her.
Mom’s been wildly successful with her career, working her way up through the Blades franchise and is now their Assistant General Manager. That didn’t happen until after Dad retired. They didn’t want two demanding careers when they were trying to raise a family. Besides, it would have been some kind of conflict of interest since my dad never played a game for another team after he was drafted to Seattle.
Dad could have played longer; he was fit enough and young enough. At thirty-seven, he called it quits. I was about to graduate high school, Rowen had just had his twelfth birthday, Kelsey was ten, and Ellie was nearing eight.
When they were younger, my mom used to call my dad Superstar. That changed to Supersperm for obvious reasons. She loved having babies as much as he did, though.
She videoed when she told Dad she was pregnant with Rowen. After all the time they lost, they’re sticklers about preserving memories now. That’s another video I watch regularly. Dad cried like a baby. My big, strong, hockey player dad who never shies away from a fight on the ice, cried on his knees into my mom’s tummy.
Cillian Wylder isn’t scared to show his emotional or vulnerable side, but mostly he’s all smiles and laughter. That’s how our family rolls. Mom and Dad don’t fight, even when she tries to, he shuts her down with a joke or a kiss. He calls it her hockey temper and we’ve all learned to appreciate that it’s just who she is. Dad finds it attractive enough that he’s usually the one to set it off, purposefully, of course.
Every day they show how much they love each other. Not always in obvious, flashy ways, though those happen too. Every time they part, they kiss. The same happens when they see each other again. No conversations end without the words I love you, that goes for us offspring, too. It’s instilled in us all to not take love for granted. To be loyal, honest, and true.
Sometimes, we fail, but my parents are always there to walk us through our troubles.
They still hump like rabbits with no shame. I once heard Mom and Grams talk about hockey player stamina. I didn’t understand then, but I have a hockey player of my own now, so I get it. I guess being with hockey players runs in the family, because Auntie Willa has one too.
But she’ll have to tell her own story. And someday maybe I’ll tell mine.
