"I love you so much right now."
We went to a local rink—the same rink where I'd learned to skate as a child, where my dreams had begun. I'd prepared a new program, choreographed specifically for this moment.
The program represented our story—each movement reflecting one of my men. Nolan's strength in powerful jumps. Logan's grace in flowing footwork. Blake's steadiness in solid spirals. And all of it woven together into something greater than its parts.
I performed for a small crowd—locals who'd known me as a child, my parents, and three men who watched from the stands with expressions that made my heart ache.
When I finished, they came onto the ice.
Blake had actually improved enough to execute basic pairs elements with me. Nolan's secret ballet training from childhood meant he could hold positions that looked reasonably graceful. Even Logan, with all his anxious energy, managed to skate beside me without falling.
We created a unique quartet that drew applause from the small crowd—three hockey players and one figure skater, defying every convention about how these sports should interact.
Dinner that evening was at a restaurant my parents had saved up for—nice but not fancy, the kind of place where locals celebrated special occasions.
Blake kept fidgeting with his phone, checking it repeatedly, his expression cycling between excited and nervous.
"What's wrong with you?" I finally asked.
"Nothing. Just—" He looked at Logan and Nolan, some silent communication passing between them. "I have news."
"Good news or bad news?"
"Good news. I think. I hope." He took a deep breath. "Your team called. Seattle's team. They want me. They're offering a contract to bring me to the NHL next season."
I stared at him. "Seattle? You're coming to Seattle?"
"If you want me to. I know you have another year of your Masters in Stockholm, but the program is flexible and you mentioned the possibility of completing your research in the US and—"
I kissed him. Right there in the restaurant, in front of my parents and other diners and everyone. Kissed him with every ounce of joy and relief and love I felt.
"I want to move to Seattle," I said against his lips. "I've been researching programs there. I can transfer my research. I want us all together. All four of us in the same city."
"Really?" Blake's voice was thick with emotion.
"Really."
Logan made a sound between a laugh and a sob. Nolan was blinking suspiciously hard. My parents were smiling at the next table over, pretending they hadn't been eavesdropping.
"We'd need to find a place," Logan said, already pulling out his phone. "Big enough for all of us. With a kitchen that can handle Blake's cooking obsession. Close to both the rink and university—"
"He's already making spreadsheets," I said to Blake.
"I'm creating a framework for optimal housing based on our combined needs," Logan corrected. "There's a difference."
We flew to Seattle together a week later, all four of us cramming into economy seats because Blake refused to let usbuy him a first-class ticket and we refused to let him fly alone in coach.
House hunting was chaotic and perfect. Logan had parameters. Blake needed a good kitchen. Nolan wanted space for home workouts. I needed good lighting for reading research papers.
We found a place in a neighborhood between the rink and university—old but charming, with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen that made Blake make sounds of approval.
Moving-in day was exciting and romantic and complete chaos.
Logan had labeled boxes with a color-coding system that nobody understood but him. Blake immediately started organizing the kitchen while we were still bringing furniture in. Nolan took charge of heavy lifting and coordination. I mostly stayed out of the way and took photos of everything because this moment—this perfect, messy, chaotic moment—needed to be documented.
"Last box," Blake announced, carrying in what appeared to be dishes wrapped in ten layers of bubble wrap.
We stood in our new living room, surrounded by boxes and furniture that needed assembling and evidence of four lives merging into one shared space.
