The Puck Drops

Holden

Today's more than just a routine outing, more like a series of delightful surprises. Britt suspects something's up due to Holden's squirrelly nature, and their day is dotted with mysterious packages at every stop around my humble berg, each one hinting at a deeper plan. But the real magic unfolds at Power Play, the heart of my social scene, where the vibes are strong and the anticipation builds. Here, surrounded by friends who feel like family, I pivot our playful day out into something even better. Because I'm not just where people live, but where life's milestones are joyfully marked.

Playlist: "World For Two" by King Calaway

"You're in an awfully good mood today," Britt observes.

"Am I?" I beam at her. "I don't think so. I'm always in a good mood. This is normal for me."

She narrows her eyes at me across the table. "You had coffee, didn't you? Without me?"

I can't stop the corners of my mouth from tugging upward. "Never. Do you smell coffee? Because if I did make any, I would have saved you some to huff."

"Hmm." Britt stabs her fork into her French toast. "Suspicious. You made breakfast from scratch, you got all dressed up, and you've made cryptic comments about how we're going out in the world today."

"It's my day off," I tell her. "None of this is unusual."

This doesn't stop her from watching me suspiciously.

After breakfast, we head into town. Britt dresses the way she usually does—although, to be fair, she's the kind of person who dresses like she's going to the office even when she could get away with staying in pajamas all day. She does spend longer in the bathroom than usual, however, to do her hair and makeup. She's a total knockout. And she's carrying my baby. Sometimes, when I think about how lucky I am, it's a bit overwhelming.

Does she know what I have in mind today?

If she does, I hope she already knows what her answer will be.

I drive us closer to town. Not that it's far, but the weather makes walking difficult, and Britt's starting to have trouble getting around. I'm not risking a slip on the ice.

"I thought we could do some shopping today, if you like," I suggest.

Britt digs one of her fingers into my ribs, although I'm protected by my puffy coat. "Okay, now I know you were taken by a pod person. There is nothing you dislike more than shopping."

"Is that a no?" I loop my arm around her waist. "Because it's important to shop local, you know."

She looks around at our quiet main street. "It's only right to support the local economy and small business and inject some much-needed cash flow into the neighborhood. All right, lead the way."

"Truly, your sacrifice is noble."

Our first stop is Maple's Book Nook. The owner is sitting behind the counter, leafing through a battered paperback. While Britt starts browsing, I give Maple the signal, and she replies with a nod and a thumbs-up.

Maple is one of those people who seems almost too good to be real, like a character out of a fairy tale. Petite and ethereal, she moves around her little kingdom of books with a quiet grace that makes you feel like you're watching something sacred. Her beauty is the understated kind that doesn't scream for attention but captures it effortlessly, the kind that lingers in your mind long after you've left her presence.

And she's got this vibe—serene, wise beyond her years, as if she's read every book on these shelves and absorbed every word. Yet, it's her kindness that really sets her apart. She remembers everyone's name, occupation, hobbies, and family tree, greeting them with a warm smile that makes you feel like you're the most important person who's walked through her door that day. Even a rough-and-tumble hockey player like me can't help but feel a bit more refined in her gentle presence.

My teammate Wolfe has a major thing for her. The man's got it bad, but since he doesn't speak and Maple doesn't seem too interested in flirting with him, or any man for that matter, they just kind of circle each other.

Britt selects a few titles, including a romance novel and two nonfiction books I've never heard of. She takes them up to the counter, but before she can pay, I hand Maple my credit card.

While Maple waits for the credit card to go through, she taps the side of her head with one finger. "Say, you're Britt Jensen, aren't you?"

"Um." Britt looks over her shoulder at me. "Yes?"

"I got a box back here for you. The mailman must have taken it to the wrong place." Maple retrieves a flat cardboard box from beneath the counter. The tag has Britt's name, the location of the bookstore, and no return address.

"Those mailmen, always getting things wrong." Britt laughs and holds out both hands. "What a coincidence that I stopped by today for the first time, right after this package got misdelivered."

"You should open it," I tell her. "Just to see what it is."

Inside are a handful of picture books about different types of families. Britt smiles to herself as she flips through the covers. "This is so thoughtful," she says. "And isn't it strange that picture books would turn up at a bookstore?"

Maple clicks her tongue. "Life is full of mysteries."

I put all the books in the giant bag I so fortuitously brought with me. "Where to next?"

"I'm not sure." Britt looks around. "How about… Glamboozled?"

I gesture toward the salon. "Lead the way."

The minute we step inside, Gisele looks up from the trio of local grannies who have come in for their weekly post-church gossip session and pedicure. She immediately excuses herself and rushes over to greet us.

"Feel free to take a look around. I'm booked for the day, but I just got in a new shipment of products. And speaking of shipments, I have a box here with your name on it." This one is much smaller than the one at Maple's.

"Seems like the mail guy is really off his game," Britt deadpans.

"You know how it is. Love makes fools of us all." Gisele smiles wide, then sails back toward her clients with characteristic grace.

Inside the box is a sealed envelope containing a gift card for a couple's spa day, and a makeup palette in what I'm told are this spring's colors and an assortment of high-end brushes.

"How thoughtful." Britt taps the gift card against her palm. "Maybe I should come here with Tierney the next time she's in town."

"That's one option." I'm not taking the bait. "Come on, let's leave her to it."

Everywhere we stop, there's a package waiting for Britt. At the Rusty Tracks Antique Shop, it's four framed vintage baby animal paintings that would be perfect for a nursery. When I get a text message saying: I made the drop, we carry everything back to the van and find a box waiting on the hood. It just happens to contain a duvet and sheet set in the exact color palette Britt's been pushing at the house.

I text Shep when Britt's back is turned. Good work. Next phase is a go?

We're golden, he replies, followed by about a hundred red light emojis, Woooooo!, and a Ric Flair meme. I'm pretty sure the emojis are supposed to represent actual flares, but if the police are waiting to haul us off to jail before we can get lunch, I can't say he didn't warn me.

"Should we stop for a bite to eat on the way back?" I ask.

Britt buckles herself into the passenger seat. "The day wouldn't be complete without a stop at Power Play."

Okay, she definitely knows.

Heath, Shep, and Boone are sitting at the bar when we arrive. Shep immediately pulls out his phone, while Heath waves us over.

"Having a good day so far?" he asks Britt.

"Yeah, but it's funny… there have been a lot of mail mix-ups." She lifts herself onto the bar stool, while I hover behind her. I wave to Joely, who excuses herself to the kitchen, and Beth narrows her eyes.

"Speak of the devil." Heath snaps his fingers, then reaches into his coat to produce a large, soft-sided envelope. "This came for you. Don't know how it ended up at my place."

"Will wonders never cease?" Britt reaches for it, and sure enough, her name's written on the label. "I think the mail delivery guy needs to be fired. Like yesterday."

Beth crosses her arms when Joely returns from the kitchen bearing an armload of flowers. Joely pointedly ignores her boss as she passes them across the bar.

"For me?" Britt hasn't even finished opening the envelope.

"It's from Tierney," Joely says.

Beth snorts. "Yeah, I bet it is."

The bell over the door jingles, and Blink steps through, carrying the smallest box of all. Britt, still buried in her giant bouquet of flowers, immediately reaches for it.

"Sorry," Blink says. "This one's for him." He hands the box to me, and I slip him twenty bucks.

"Don't forget this one." Heath taps the envelope he handed her.

"Right." Britt resumes her attack on the packaging while I open Blink's delivery. She pulls a shirt out of the package. "Uh, wow, Heath. A Slammers' jersey. Thanks for… making sure I got this."

"Turn it over," Boone urges.

Britt does. Her jaw drops when she sees the back, which reads, Mrs. Express. "Wait, what?"

She turns to face me, but I'm no longer standing behind her. I've already dropped to one knee, holding up the box that Blink brought me.

The one with the ring.

All around Sorrowville, dogs sit up straight and perk their ears in response to Britt's screech of joy. "Yes! Holden, yes!" She tumbles off the stool and into my waiting arms.

"I know you'll want to pick your ring," I tell her. "But for now, this one should at least fit—" She cuts me off with a kiss, made slightly awkward by the fact that we're sitting on the floor of a well-loved bar. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her back.

Before things can get too heated, Beth clears her throat. "You two should get a room. There's a motel next door if you can't wait. Or your house is down the road. But whatever you do, you are not going into the bathroom!"

Britt kisses me once more for good measure, then slides away from me. "You're going to have to help me up," she says.

"Think of what a pregnant chick having sex in my bar would do to my reviews," Beth adds.

"The reviews would go up," Joely chimes in. "It's the health inspection I'm worried about."

Beth shudders. "Go home, Holden. And take the future Mrs. Express with you." She turns away and stomps off into the kitchen. "Glad you're staying, Britt!"

Boone rolls his eyes. "What I think my mom is trying to say is congratulations. Because we're all really happy for you, obviously."

"Could be more obvious," Britt says as Shep and I pull her to her feet. "But since I don't think we're going to get served lunch here, we should probably head back home."

"We could go to the diner, if you want," I tell her.

Heath slaps his palm to his forehead. Shep makes a cutting motion across his throat. Boone turns around and knocks his forehead against the bar.

"Or," Joely says, "you could take your fiancée home. And show her how much you care about her."

"We can test out that new sheet set," Britt suggests.

"Oh. Right. Right." I take Britt's hand. "Want to get out of here?"

"Sure do. I have plans for you, Sir." Britt gathers up her jersey and her armload of flowers on one arm and drags me toward the door with the other.

Bennet takes a long drag on his beer and tips it in my direction. "I'm about to score a verbal hat trick. Cheers, asshole!"

I just shake my head. Britt and I turn to leave, and before we open the door, Shep pumps his arms over his head and sends us out into the afternoon with a triumphant, "Woooooo!"

* * *

The poor flowers don't stand a chance. We're not even through the front door of the house when Britt rushes into my arms and sends blossoms flying in every direction. I ditched most of the gifts in the van. I can bring them in later.

Our clothes follow, and we leave a trail of wreckage on our way down the hall. Somehow, Britt ends up wearing nothing but the Mrs. Express jersey and socks, and I have zero complaints about that.

"Lie down," she says, jabbing an imperious finger toward the bed.

"Oh? Are you giving the orders now?" I'm already stumbling my way out of my pants.

"You know what they say… happy wife, happy life." Britt presses one hand to the middle of my chest. "Now lie back and let your future wife tell you how you can achieve that."

"Oh, wait." I kick my boxers off, then reach for another box. One delivered through the USPS, thank you very much. No way would I ask Blink to deliver this one. "I got another ring."

"Now's not the time—" Britt begins, but her eyes widen when she sees the toy I ordered. "Um, Holden. Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah. See, my future wife's hormones are out of control, and she's insatiable." I've never used one of these things before, but I absolutely ruined my YouTube search history last week, and I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing. I'm already half-hard, which supposedly is the optimal time to try this thing on.

Britt sinks down on the edge of the bed and watches in fascination as I maneuver myself into the ring. "Wow, okay. This is new."

"New is good, right?" I ask.

She licks her lips. "Maybe. We should try it. For science."

"I've always been a fan of the scientific method." I sit back against our numerous pillows and stroke myself. "Come here, future wife. Let me touch you."

Britt climbs into my lap. She makes a little moan when I rub two fingers between her legs, and then slip a finger inside of her. I like teasing her and turning her on, and ideally making her come before I enter her, but not today. We're both too impatient, and in theory, I should be able to last longer this time.

Britt moans as she sinks onto my length, setting her own pace. I lay back and breathe deeply as she takes me inch by inch. Once her hips are settled above mine, I reach between us. I picked a toy with a vibrator for this very reason.

She jumps at the unexpected buzz. It feels okay for me, but it must be even better for Britt because her hips buck. She shifts her angle a few times until she finds a position she likes. It's a different angle than I'm used to, and her movements are shallow, but the way she's pressed against me is more intimate.

"Oh, fuck." She rakes her nails across my ribs. "Holden…"

I kiss her, caress her back, and roll my hips to match her movements. Soon she tightens around me and cries out my name.

"Holden, can you—I need another angle." She rolls off of me, still quivering from her first orgasm. "Hard. Please. I want to feel you."

There's no chance of me getting this toy off while I'm this hard, so I leave the vibrator running and roll into her to give her what she wants. I slide a pillow under her hips and press her thighs together so that both of her ankles rest on my left shoulder as I enter her again.

This time, I set the tempo, pulling almost all the way out and then snapping forward. Britt's hands claw at the blankets—not the new set, we didn't bother to change the sheets first, because we have priorities—and she utters wordless cries of pleasure as I fuck her for all I'm worth.

This woman—the future Mrs. Travers—might be the only woman in the world who could take what I give and then ask for more. She's my person. And I'm so fucking happy.

I don't know how long we spend in bed, periodically shifting positions at her request. It's a lot longer than usual, and when I finally come, it feels as if every drop is wrung out of me by the force of my blinding orgasm.

I collapse against Britt and maneuver sideways until I can pull her into the little spoon; her new jersey is already rumpled and sweaty from the day's activities.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Express?" I ask.

"Mm. Fantastic." Britt stretches like a cat, then settles back against me. "But you know I'm probably keeping my name right?"

My sex-addled brain takes a moment to parse this. "Huh?"

"The name. My name. I think I'm keeping it. It'd be weird to change it, right? So much paperwork."

"You love paperwork." I curl around her. "But yeah, I kind of figured you'd be keeping your name." I'd love it if she'd take mine, honestly, but in the grand scheme of things, it's not that big a deal. She's here with me. That's what matters.

In my mind, she'll always be Mrs. Travers.

And she's finally agreed to stay.