Chapter 18

The blare of the stadium"s PA system cuts through the air as I step into the brightly lit arena, my parents and Sawyer in tow. The smell of buttered popcorn fills my nostrils, making me inhale deeply. My pulse kicks up a notch as we navigate through the bustling crowd of Michigan Vikings fans, all antsy for the upcoming game.

"Excuse us, please," I say assertively, my no-nonsense attitude shining through as we make our way to the executive boxed seats that Weston arranged for us. It"s a nice feeling, knowing that everyone around us is here to support my man on the ice.

"Presley!" a voice I've come to know calls out above the crowd just as we reach the door to the box suite. We turn to see Weston"s mom, Rose, approaching us with a bright smile. In her arms, she carries two folded jerseys. We all step inside, and Rose says, "I have something for you and Sawyer."

"Hey, Rose," I greet her warmly, although my curiosity piques at the sight of the jerseys. She hands one to me, and I unfold it to reveal the Michigan Vikings logo on the front, and the name "Halliday" emblazoned across the back. I'm so excited and quickly pull it over my head; it fits perfectly.

"This is awesome! Thank you so much, Rose!" I exclaim, unable to suppress a grin. Rose chuckles before handing me the second jersey, which I realize is a tiny replica of mine. I let out a soft laugh as I dress baby Sawyer in his matching jersey.

"Look, little man, you"re all ready to cheer for your daddy," I coo at him, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of my son donning the same last name as his father.

"Isn"t he adorable?" Rose gushes, joining me in admiring the baby. "He looks just like Weston when he was little."

"Really?" I ask, turning to her with a raised eyebrow and a grin. "Well, then we"re in for quite a ride with this one, aren"t we?"

"Absolutely," she replies, her eyes dancing with delight before she grows more serious. "Presley, I just want you to know that we're so happy to have you and Sawyer as part of our family."

"Thank you, Rose." My words come out softly, and I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. "That means a lot. Weston is an amazing man, and I can"t wait to see him play."

We all settle into our seats, and I have an overwhelming sense of home. This is right where I'm supposed to be.

"Let"s go, Vikings!" I yell with everyone else, my heart full and my eyes locked on the ice, awaiting Weston"s appearance.

Suddenly, the arena lights dim and a spotlight finds its way to the entrance of the hockey players. The crowd roars as the Michigan Vikings skate onto the ice, led by their captain. My eyes scan the line of players until they land on Weston, his muscular form clad in his hockey gear. A surge of pride and joy fills me as I watch him warm up, gliding effortlessly around the rink.

"Look, Sawyer," I point towards Weston for the baby, "that"s your dad!"

"Isn"t he amazing?" my mother chimes in, her eyes following Weston also.

"Definitely," I reply, my heart swelling with love for the man who has become such an important part of our lives.

The sound of the crowd grows louder as the game begins, and my heart swells with pride as I watch Weston take his position on the ice. He seems completely at ease.

"Come on, Weston!" I shout above the crowd.

"Go, Wes!" Rose cheers beside me, her voice filled with a mother"s pride.

"Did you see that move?" I exclaim to Rose as Weston dodges an opponent and takes control of the puck. "He"s incredible!"

"Definitely takes after his father," she replies with a wink, and we both laugh.

The cheers and applause of the crowd fill the air, creating an electric atmosphere. It seems like everyone is caught up in the energy, feeling the same thrill I do as I watch Weston play his heart out.

"This is awesome!" I say. "I wish I could freeze this moment."

"Life is full of moments like these, Presley," my dad says, giving me a knowing smile as my mom cuddles and bounces around with Sawyer in her arms. "You just have to be present enough to enjoy them."

His words resonate deep within me, and I know he"s right. There"s no point in dwelling on the past or worrying about the future – all that matters is embracing the now and enjoying what's to come.

As the game progresses, I become increasingly absorbed in it, cheering for Weston with every fiber of my being. There"s something so incredibly sexy about watching him dominate the ice, his body moving with such grace and precision.

The final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, and Weston's team has won. My heart swells with happiness, feeling so proud of him and his incredible performance. The stadium erupts into loud cheers and applause, and I join in the celebration.

"Let"s go down to the VIP hallway where Weston will be coming out after he finishes in the locker room," Rose instructs.

We make our way through the crowd downstairs. As we reach security, we flash our name badges to gain entry to the hallway.

Then, I lock eyes with Weston as he approaches me. He grins widely, and his gaze flickers to the jersey I"m wearing. The one his mom gave me earlier, emblazoned with his name on the back.

"Turn around, Pres," he instructs. Following his command, I pivot slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. This moment means so much to us; not only as a couple but also as a family.

"Damn, babe, you look so hot wearing my name like that," he says huskily, pulling me into his strong arms. The aroma of sweat and victory clings to him, and it only serves to heighten my need for him. "I love it," he whispers into my ear.

"Do you now?" I tease, enjoying the feel of his muscles pressed against me. But deep down, I know I love wearing his name too. It"s something that I no longer want to live without.

Weston"s mother, holding Sawyer, steps forward and proudly reveals the matching baby jersey she had been hiding. Weston chuckles and takes our son from her, cradling him gently. "Look at you, little man," he says, examining the baby"s jersey with a grin. "You"re rocking the Halliday name just like your mom."

My face hurts from smiling at them.

"Let"s go celebrate," Weston suggests, his hand finding mine as we make our way toward the exit. Our fingers intertwine, and I marvel at how perfectly mine fits in his. Sometimes, the pieces of our lives can come together in the most unexpected ways.

"Sounds perfect," I reply. Hand in hand, we walk out of the rink as a family – an image I never thought I"d see in my life but one I wouldn"t trade for anything.