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And then . . . it was over. The guys crowded around me, half of them yelling and the other half crying.
“Fucking shit! Fucking shit!” someone screamed next to my ear.
Sticks were dropped to the ice as we embraced each other. I shed a few tears myself. It felt damn good to hear our fans celebrating.
“Hell yeah,” Orion said behind me. I turned and opened my arms to him.
“Nice, Captain,” he said.
“It was you, Coach.” My voice was thick with emotion.
“It was us.”
We milked our on-ice celebration for every second we could get. As soon as we hit the tunnel to go to the locker room, I saw my girl. I’d asked an usher to bring her down after the game for me, and there she was.
Tears streaked Charlotte’s cheeks and her smile lit up her whole face. I bent to kiss her and she grabbed my face and held me close for a second.
“Congratulations,” she said softly. “I’m so happy. So proud of you. I love you, Bennett.”
“I love you, too. I hope you’re up for a celebration dinner with the guys.”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.”
I touched my forehead down to hers. “It means everything that you’re here with me for this.”
“To me, too,” she said.
A photographer was shooting photos of us. Usually, they weren’t allowed in the tunnel, but Keri must’ve made an exception for this.
Charlotte saw Liam and went to hug him. I soaked in the moment for a few seconds. I knew in my heart that this was probably my last season of hockey. I needed to get a better job now that I had a family.
I was going out on one hell of a note, though.
Charlotte
I waddled into the courtroom with as much dignity as I could muster. The status of my pregnancy was the source of much chatter among the courthouse staff. There was an office pool going to guess my due date and the baby’s weight. The date I was fine with, but having people seriously wager money that I would have a ten-pound baby was a little insulting.
Yes, I was big. But I was two days from my due date, and Bennett had a large frame. Some ladies in the county recorder’s office had felt his shoulders and biceps one day when he came to the courthouse to pick me up for lunch, claiming it was only to estimate my baby’s size. I’d accused him of liking the attention and he hadn’t denied it.
But all in all, he was more supportive than I’d ever hoped a boyfriend would be. He rubbed my back every night he was home and cooked and cleaned so I could rest after work. When he was going out of town, he’d leave small presents hidden in the kitchen and bathroom cabinets for me to find. I’d gotten lots of peanut M&M’s, perfume, fuzzy socks I couldn’t reach my feet to put on, and a kick-ass vibrator. He’d left that one in the fridge inside a bag of cucumbers.
“Miss Holloway,” the judge said from his bench. “Still haven’t delivered that baby, I see.”
“Not yet, Judge.”
“Try for next Tuesday if you can.”
Nice. Even the judges were in on the pool.
We were between calls and some attorneys were talking while the judge finished signing orders. A bailiff came and got my briefcase and carried it to the table for me.
“Thanks, Wayne,” I said, resting a hand on my belly. I was having a strong, persistent cramp.
“You okay, Miss Holloway?” Wayne asked, his white brows drawn together with concern.
“I think . . . ah.” He reached out an arm and I took it.
“I think we need to call an ambulance.”
