Page 113 of Crack the Ice

Jumping from the ground, I look down at both of us, still naked as the day we were born. I don’t have my phone. I don’t know what time it is. I haven’t set anything up. I again don’t know what time it is, and people are coming over at eleven.

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

“Maverick,” I hiss. “Maverick, get up.”

“No, baby, come back to bed. It’s my birthday.”

I knock him in the foot with my own. “Yes, Maverick. It is your birthday, but it’s also Lily’s, and we’re having a freaking surprise party for the two of you, except we’re outside naked. I have no idea where my phone is, nor do I know what time it is. All of our friends could walk in here at any minute.”

His eyes fly open. Immediately, he jumps up, scooping me up and running inside with me cradled to his chest. “No one gets to see my future wife naked but me.” He kicks the back door closed behind him, not stopping until we get to our room.

He lowers me to the ground, hands cupping my face as his eyes bore into mine. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just holds my gaze.

“You are the most magnificent human I’ve ever met. I cannot wait to make you my wife, Cecy.”

The green in his eyes is brighter than usual, reflecting the love I have for him right back at me. God, I love this man with every part of me. The good and the bad. The broken and the beautiful.

“I can’t wait for you to make me your wife either, Mav,” I say as the tears begin to fall. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses me slowly, like we have all the time in the world. His lips flex and relax before he presses in again, holding me still, letting me feel the truth of his words. This isn’t about sex. It isn’t about physicality. It’s about being, choosing, and staying. No matter what else is going on.

“Come on, it’s time to get ready. I have to decorate, but you have to stay in here. It’s still a surprise for you, too.”

His bottom lip juts out into a pout, and I kiss it just for fun. “You can find me an engagement ring while I set up, how about that?”

THIRTY-EIGHT

MAVERICK

Do I tell her? I thought the admission would be scary, but it isn’t. It feels like the right time. It’s still sitting in the top drawer of my dresser in its purple velvet box. I saw it in a window one day when I was in New York for a game. I picked it up right then, even if we weren’t talking at that point. I knew it was meant to be hers even if the idea of us felt like a word I may never use again. A cushion-cut princess diamond set in white gold, with pale purple stones on the band itself. It’s unique, and it’s so her.

I haven’t told anyone, yet it’s been sitting there for years. Through every version of me my adult life has seen, it sat there, waiting for the day I could slide it on her finger.

Some nights, before she came back, I’d take it out and hold it between my fingers to see what it felt like, like it was proof that at some point, I had the woman it was made for. Now, I think about it sitting here, waiting for her ‘yes’ so that it can finally make its way home. Soon.

Her naked body stands before me, pieces of grass clinging to her elbows, hair still a mess from last night. Her weight shifts from foot to foot, anxiety getting the better of her.

“I already have one. I’ve had it for years.” I tell her.

Her mouth falls open, but she stays on the other side of the room like she needs the distance to process it. “Y-you do?”

I nod. I’d show it to her if she asked me to, and for one reckless second, I almost pull it out. But I had a thought the other day, one I think would be the perfect time to propose. I’d like to talk to the kids about it, see if they’d be in on it too. Then, of course, I’d have to talk to Matteo, which I’m not super concerned about. But I can’t do it now, even if I want to. Hell, I’d marry her at the courthouse tomorrow if that’s what she wanted.

But she deserves more than a hasty tomorrow. She deserves the wedding she vividly outlined to me when she was twenty. The simple, yet elegant wedding of her dreams, outside her house in Marbella with only our closest family and friends in tow.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” I get up, crossing the room, only allowing myself to get close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “Go get dressed, do your thing, and when I ask you, then you say yes.”

“No need to be a cheeky little shit, Mav,” she says, but there’s a smile underneath it. She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower kick on. I sit there on the edge of the bed listening to the steady pitter-patter against the tile floor, thinking about that drawer opening a few months from now, closing with one less priceless thing inside.

She resurfaces ten minutes later, looking like my every fantasy come to life, hair still damp, yet fully dressed for the party she planned in secret.

“I love you.” She gives me a quick kiss and heads for the door, her hand pausing against the frame. “No peeking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”