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Nat squints at him. “Noel, is there anywhere youdon’twant to get married?”
Everyone laughs, except him.
Dead serious, he shakes his head. “No. If I had my way, we’d have hopped a flight and gotten married on New Year’s Day in Vegas. Then again in Chicago and every city we’ve visited since. I want to get married beneath the Eiffel Tower and then again at the top. On the beach in Fiji, on a boat in Florida, in—”
“Okay, okay, we get it.” O’Brien’s patting the air down, allsettle, settle. “How about you, Misty? Where’s the dream wedding?”
She purses her lips and shrugs. “I don’t really know. Every time Noel gets a new idea, I’m all about it. Until the next one.” She snuggles into his side. “I think, eventually, one is going to stick. And that’s what we’ll do.”
The conversation goes on. Easy. Comfortable. Everyone laughing, talking.
It’s the kind of night I never wanted for myself, but now that I’ve had it, makes me wonder why I worked so hard to keep my distance. What it is about the woman tucked into my side, her fingers laced with mine, that let me see what I’d been missing.
She’s laughing at something George is saying, her eyes bright, cheeks pink. Her body relaxed against mine. And I wonder if she feels what I’m feeling. If she ever thinks,This. This is the thing I didn’t know I was missing.
If she doesn’t want to give it up.
“What do you think, Liam?” she asks, peering up at me, that smile hitching a bit higher when she realizes she’s busted me not paying attention. Or at least not to anything but her. “Group trip to Italy this summer after playoffs?”
Group trip?
Note to self… Don’t get distracted by pretty wife in public settings.
“I— umm— Yeah, I mean, if that’s what you want to do.”
Nat leans forward. “It would be so much fun. Especially if we do it before someone ends up with a bun in the oven.” She points a finger between Stormy and Misty. “PS, the WAGs already have a pool going on which of you gets knocked-up first.”
22
Liam
Everyone laughs, and Noel starts in about how his “little swimmers” are ready to go for the gold.
I don’t know exactly what I expect from Stormy. Maybe just to look back and roll her eyes. Stiffen up a bit. Cross her fingers like she’s warding off me and my “little swimmers.” Or offer a totally legit excuse about work being her priority for a while.
What I don’t expect is her to snuggle even closer into my side or the soft brush of her thumb over mine. I don’t expect her to seem so totally unaffected. I don’t expect it, but that hard thump of my heart as I pull her closer still says I like it.
I like how relaxed this feels. How right.
I like that she holds my hand for the ride home, while we talk about the places we haven’t been and the things we want to do.
I like walking into the apartment as Stormy hooks her finger between the buttons on my shirt and draws me into an unhurried kiss.
She tastes like wine and the sweetness that is all her. We make out against the wall in the front hall, taking our time like we have all night. We leave our shoes and, fingers tangled in a loose hold, pad back to our room, turning off lights as we go.
I undress her slowly, between soft words and lazy kisses.
Let her do the same for me.
We fall into bed, and her fingers go to my hair as my mouth finds her breast. Wanting her soft sounds, I play with the turgid peak against my tongue until she’s arching beneath me.
This woman is everything.
And her being in my life like this feels like a miracle.
I move over her, our bodies aligned, aching to join. For a beat, I don’t want to look in her eyes, because that’s when this little fairy tale I’ve been living ends. It’s that moment when all the breathlessplease, yes, nowcomes to a halt, and she says it.
“Same page?”
