Chapter 28

28

JACK

When we’re done eating and step outside, I realize this is likely my last time in the city before starting over in Nebraska.

I ask, “Want to take a walk?”

Ella glances at her feet and I half expect her to be wearing glass slippers. We go to the SUV and she pulls a pair of house shoes with a knit top and furry hem out of a bag.

“Leah said I’ll need these in Nebraska.”

I love hearing those words and sling my arm across her shoulders as we walk toward the park. It’s well lit and I sometimes jog here at night—mostly to avoid being recognized. I’ve also ignored the social and sports media feeding frenzy about the game and my announcement earlier that I’m joining the Knights.

I like that Ella is interested in my career, but also outside of it because with her, I feel like I have a real life that’s not solely quantified by being a billionaire’s son or hockey superstar.

I can be me.

But I want to know more about her. “What did you want to do before becoming a housekeeper? A pro softball player? A hotel tycoon?” I lean in and add, “I highly recommend athletics and hospitality.”

Ella laughs. “I wanted to be a housewife.”

I stagger because I wasn’t expecting that answer. “I imagine there are women out there hissing at you right now.”

She shrugs. “The times when Mom was home from work, whether we were folding laundry together, making a meal, playing Scrabble, whatever it was, she tried hard to make a good home for us, for our little family. All I ever wanted was for those moments to lengthen. For hours to become days. The three of us doing life together—the mundane, the silly, the beautiful. All of it. I always wanted a family. To take care of people. I guess, in a way, I find dignity in the quiet work of making someone’s bed so it’s fresh for them when they lie down after a long day of … well, lounging on the beach at the resort, but you know what I mean.”

“But you have a degree.”

“Life doesn’t care about that, Jack,” Ella says as if resigned to the fact that her dreams slipped away.

I ask, “How do you feel about having a housekeeper? Carlos is interviewing them starting on Monday.”

She shakes her head. “No. You’ve got me.”

I cannot deny how happy that makes me to hear, even if it’s not exactly what she means. I want to give this woman the world. “But if you could do anything, career-wise, what would it be?”

“Besides being a housewife and having a family? Maybe operate a bed-and-breakfast, after all, I did study hospitality in college. Originally, my focus was on the big resorts and upscale hotel chains because that’s where the money is, but I think now I’d like my own place.”

“What would you call it? ”

“Depends on the location and building. If it were upscale and modern, maybe The Bespoke Bedpost or if it was quaint and charming, The Blueberry Bramble B a family of twelve could have proper games. Bark Wahlburger can be the referee,” she adds with a laugh.

I love that she thought of that. Pausing under the streetlight, Ella glows softly, sweetly. She’s too good for me. But for a little longer, we can pretend. Only, deep down, that notion digs in like a lie. I want her. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. I can’t say it with words, so I drop my gaze to hers.

Her eyes spark with interest.

I smooth her hair with my hand. “I like this.”

“My hair?” she asks with a laugh as if she knows that’s not exactly what I’m talking about.

“Yes, and this.” I brush my finger down her nose.

Her eyes cross slightly and she laughs.

“And this.” I slowly swipe my thumb across her lower lip.

She lets out a shaky breath.

“But also this. Us.”

“Me too.”

Our lips meet, igniting the flames inside, illuminating everything I adore about this woman.

My hands dig into her hair and her fingers trail my jaw and down my neck before I lose track of where I end and she begins along with the boundaries between real and fake. The inner hunger I have matches hers and the pace of our kiss increases.

My pulse pounds.

Her breath trembles .

This kiss with Ella erases my doubts, fears, and reality.

Her fingers intertwine with mine and I drop my mouth to nibble her ear, chin, and neck, breathing her cocoa butter, which is all I need. Then, I find my way back to her lips. She grips the sides of my face and the kiss deepens once more.

When we part, we stroll back the way we came, hand in hand, quiet until Ella asks, “Is hockey still fun for you?”

I ponder this for a moment. “I guess I kind of lost track of that in the competition, the exertion, and the attention. But I think with you in my jersey, it’s about to get a lot better.”

When we reach the SUV, it’s warm inside. Ella rests her head on my shoulder and her breathing quickly turns soft. She’s so open and vulnerable. So sweet and beautiful.

When we’re nearly at the condo, my father texts, and I glance at it briefly.

Dad: If you’re smart, you’ll lose the distraction.

Of course, he’s talking about Ella and not the device in my hand, even though Aston is the worst offender. But maybe my fiancée is inadvertently onto something. Perhaps life is better without a phone, especially with messages like these.