16. Aubrey

16

Aubrey

Standing there, in the slightly too-cold air of the ice rink, my brain does a triple axel trying to process what just happened.

"Fiancée?" I echo, my voice climbing an octave. "Sean, we're not even dating. Heck, I'm still on the fence about... everything."

Sean, ever the picture of unflappable cool, just shrugs, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "I know, I know. It just popped out. But think about it—me, suddenly off the market? It's like instant maturity points with the team owners. Makes me look less like a playboy and more like a family man. And if it doesn’t work out, we can just break it off, no harm, no foul."

Luke, bless his heart, is blissfully unaware of this impromptu life-altering announcement, more captivated by the Zamboni making its rounds than our conversation. Meanwhile, I'm here mentally calculating the leap from 'casual acquaintances and co-parents' to 'engaged'—it's Olympic-level.

"It's 'no big'?" I mimic, unable to mask the disbelief—and, okay, maybe a hint of amusement—tinging my voice. "We can just 'break off the engagement' if it doesn't pan out? Sean, that's not exactly how stable relationships—or fake ones, for that matter—tend to work."

Sean leans in, his confidence unwavering. "When have I ever been conventional? Besides, it could work to our advantage. You get the world off your back about being a single mom, and I get a shiny new image. It's a win-win."

I can't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over me. "Oh, sure, because nothing says 'responsible adult' like faking an engagement for the sake of appearances."

But as I look at him, standing there with that 'trust me, I know what I'm doing' smirk, a part of me wonders if this madcap plan might just be crazy enough to work. Or at the very least, crazy enough to make for an interesting chapter in the 'Adventures of Aubrey and Sean.'

"Okay, let's say, hypothetically, we go along with this charade. What's the endgame? We just… play house until it's no longer beneficial?" I ask, trying to wrap my head around the logistics of our pretend engagement.

Sean nods, the light of mischief in his eyes. "Exactly. And who knows? Maybe we'll discover we're not pretending as much as we thought. Life's strange like that."

I shake my head, the edges of my resolve beginning to fray under the weight of his optimism. "Sean Ice, you're either a genius or completely nuts. I haven't decided which yet."

He winks, a promise of chaos wrapped in charm. "Stick with me, Aubrey. It's going to be an interesting ride."

And just like that, I find myself reluctantly considering the possibility. Because as much as I want to deny it, life with Sean—from our unexpected reconnection to this latest twist—has been anything but dull.

As we're navigating the room, I notice Sean's attention shift to a pair of individuals making their way through the crowd. Their aura of confidence has a magnetic pull, even in a room buzzing with people. Curiosity piqued, I shoot Sean a look, silently asking for the 411 on the dynamic duo.

"Oh, those two? They're like hockey royalty," Sean says, a hint of mischief in his voice as he steers us closer. "Meet Harry Benson and Marla Knox, the brains and brawn behind the Mavericks. They have this knack for making an entrance that's hard to ignore—kind of like celebrities of the ice world."

Harry, with his gaze sharp enough to cut through ice, and Marla, exuding a calm that says she's weathered more storms than most, approach us. It's like being spotted by celebrity scouts, except in this universe, Sean is the star on the rise, and I'm… well, the surprise fiancée.

"Sean, fantastic practice today!" Harry starts, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of approval. His eyes flicker to me, curiosity piqued. "And who do we have here?"

Sean, ever the smooth operator, slips an arm around me, pulling me closer with a confidence that seems to fill the space around us. "Harry, Marla, meet Aubrey. We've...uh, recently decided to make things official. She's my fiancée."

The word 'fiancée' still sends a jolt through me every time I hear it, but I play the part, offering a smile that I hope looks more 'blissfully engaged' and less 'what have I gotten myself into?'

Marla's smile is warm, genuine, and she extends a hand. "Well, congratulations to you both. It's wonderful to see Sean settling down. It speaks volumes."

Harry nods in agreement, his scrutinizing gaze softening just a touch. "Absolutely. And Sean, if this is part of you turning over a new leaf, showing us you're ready for greater things... Well, who knows? The NHL might just be in your future again."

Their words hang in the air, a tantalizing possibility that seems to draw everyone in. Sean's reaction is a mixture of pride and hope, his grip on me tightening just a fraction.

As Harry and Marla excuse themselves, leaving us in a bubble of newfound possibilities, the weight of what's just transpired settles over me. This pretend engagement, a ruse born out of a moment of panic, could actually pave the way for Sean's comeback, for a future he's dreamed of reclaiming.

The realization that playing along with this charade could genuinely help Sean forces me to see the situation in a new light. It's no longer just about navigating the complexities of our unexpected connection; it's about supporting someone I care about, someone who's inadvertently become a significant part of my life.

Still, the doubts linger, niggling at the back of my mind like a catchy song you can't shake. Can we really pull this off? What happens if the lines between pretend and reality start to blur?

But as I watch Sean interact with Luke, the ease and joy between them undeniable, I find myself leaning into the role. For Sean, for Luke, maybe it's worth the gamble.

Post-practice, we roll up to the local pizza joint, an establishment that’s clearly seen more doughy battles than my kitchen on a Saturday morning. Luke’s excitement is palpable, his energy levels somehow rebounding at the mention of pizza, proving once again that toddlers possess an endless well of enthusiasm for all things cheesy and delicious.

Watching Sean with Luke, there's this undeniable warmth that spreads through me. The way Sean's eyes light up with genuine joy at Luke's laughter, the gentle way he helps Luke with his pizza slice—it's like watching a scene from a movie I never knew I wanted to be a part of until now.

A part of me, the part that's been cautiously holding back, whispers that maybe it's time Luke knew Sean was more than just a friend. But the rational side of me knows the timing has to be perfect. This isn't the kind of news you drop between slices of pepperoni and mushroom.

The pizza is a hit, and by the end of the meal, Luke's practically serenading his slice in a display of toddler affection that has us all laughing. But as all good things must come to an end, so does our pizza adventure, and we head back home with a very sleepy Luke struggling to keep his eyes open.

Once we're back and Luke's on the brink of dreamland, Sean, ever the gentleman—or maybe just on a dad-trial run—offers to take over bedtime duties. "How about I tuck the little champ in tonight? I've been practicing my storytelling skills."

I pause, torn between my instinct to protect and the growing trust I have in Sean. "Are you sure? Because once you start, he might expect 'Sean Stories' every night," I tease, trying to mask my apprehension with humor.

Sean just winks, the confidence rolling off him in waves. "Consider it part of my dad audition. Go on, have that glass of wine. You've earned it."

Deciding to take the leap, I nod, feeling a mixture of relief and curiosity at how this will all play out. "Alright, Sean the Storyteller, the stage is yours. I'll be in the common area, probably overanalyzing every decision I've ever made."

With a soft laugh, Sean scoops up a yawning Luke, and they head off, leaving me to my thoughts and a well-deserved glass of wine.

As I settle into the common area, the quiet of the house wrapping around me like a comforting blanket, I can't help but wonder about this new dynamic we're navigating. There's a part of me, a big part, that's rooting for Sean, for this makeshift family unit we're slowly piecing together.

And as I sip my wine, the sound of Sean's voice drifting down from upstairs, blending with Luke's occasional giggles, I allow myself to relax, just a bit. Maybe, just maybe, we're onto something good here. Something real.

Upstairs, Sean's embarked on his grand storytelling voyage with Captain Luke, leaving me solo with a glass of wine and the kind of existential contemplation that could rival any Greek philosopher's—at least that's how it feels. The flicker of the firelight casts shadows that dance the tango like the thoughts tumbling through my mind.

This whole "fiancée" ruse is a plot twist I didn't see coming, and part of me is weirdly jazzed about the idea of teaming up with Sean. There's undeniable chemistry there—like, science lab explosion levels of chemistry—and, well, he is the father of my mini sidekick… and his proposal of a marriage of convenience to legitimize my baby in the eyes of the Catholic church is definitely something I would never have objected to.

But let's be real, the idea of sprinting down the aisle after a history of him being Mr. Playboy of the Year gives me pause. Can you blame me?

Then Sean makes his grand re-entrance, practically glowing with the pride of a successful bedtime saga. He collapses next to me with the kind of ease that says, 'Yep, storytime hero right here.'

"Luke's officially a fan of 'The Wild Adventures of Sir Quackalot,'" he beams, settling into the couch's embrace.

His enthusiasm is the nudge I need to dive into the deep end. "Okay, so about this whole playing house thing," I start, aiming for casual but probably hitting somewhere near 'nervous game show contestant.' "I'm in. Let's get hitched. But keep it chill, okay? I'm talking super low-key—just us, Luke, and someone legally allowed to make us official. No fireworks, no doves."

Sean's reaction is like he's just hit the game-winning shot. "For real? Aubrey, you have no idea how much this means."

"Yeah, for real," I confirm, feeling a rush of...what? Excitement? Terror? Probably a mix of both. "Who knows? Maybe your crazy idea is the plot twist we need."

His hug envelops me in warmth and a whiff of post-practice sweat—a strangely comforting combination. "You're not going to regret this," he promises, and I believe him.

So there it is. We're doing this—jumping into an adventure that's half rom-com, half thrill ride, with a sprinkle of domestic bliss. It's not the conventional path, but hey, since when have I ever played by the book?

The warmth from the fire competes with the heat radiating off Sean, creating a sizzling atmosphere that feels charged with electricity. Sean's flirting game is on point, and despite my best efforts to maintain a level of sass and resistance, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to keep my cool. Especially with lines that should be cheesy but somehow, coming from him, sound like poetry.

"Know what's brighter than the firelight?" he murmurs, inching closer with a grin that should be illegal. "Your eyes."

I roll my eyes, but I'm secretly eating it up. "That's the best you've got? Because my eyes are rolling so hard I'm practically seeing the back of my brain."

But his chuckle and the way he pulls me closer silences any witty comeback I might have had lined up. And then we're kissing, a cascade of feelings that just feels so undeniably right , like finding the missing piece to a puzzle you didn't know you were assembling.

Just as things are about to transcend PG-13 territory, the outside world decides to crash our little party. A commotion from outside pierces our bubble—a guy's voice, loud and unmistakably annoyed.

Sean pulls away with a sigh that's half irritation, half resignation. "Damn it, Rand," he mutters under his breath before standing up and striding towards the door.

Curiosity piqued, I trail behind him, peering through the window into the night. The scene outside could be straight out of a teen drama, if not for the very real frustration etching Sean's features.

There, in the glow of the porch light, stands a teenager, with the kind of rugged handsomeness that screams 'Ice family gene pool.' He's swaying slightly, the unmistakable aroma of too many drinks wafting even through the closed window, and he's putting on quite the show with his volume alone.

Sean's patience, clearly worn thin, snaps as he confronts the newcomer. "Rand, there's kids sleeping. Shut the hell up, would you?"

From my cozy spot behind the glass, I'm treated to an unexpected episode of "Ice Family Dramas," and let me tell you, it's better than reality TV. Rand, definitely not known for his cool under pressure, squares up like he's ready to drop the gloves right there in the yard.

"You gonna lecture me, Sean? Because I'm really not in the mood for a 'be better' speech," Rand slurs, his stance wobbly but confrontational.

Sean, ever the smooth operator, doesn't miss a beat. "Rand, buddy, this isn't the time or the place. You're about two seconds from making a highlight reel you don't want to be a part of."

Rand's defiance doesn't waver, but there's a flicker of hesitation. Maybe it's the realization that arguing with Sean is like trying to outskate the wind. "Yeah? And what are you going to do, huh? Give me a time-out?"

Sean's response is quick, tinged with that Ice-brand humor that somehow manages to diffuse even the most charged situations. "Nah, I was thinking more along the lines of escorting you to your room before you decide to redecorate the lawn with your unique brand of 'landscaping.' Let's not turn this into a family feud episode, alright?"

Rand's mood shifts quicker than a puck on ice, his posture bristling with the kind of defiance you'd expect from a young buck too liquored up to sense he's teetering on the edge of a bad decision. His words are sharp, tinged with the bitterness of someone who's convinced the world's got it out for him, itching for a fight to prove his point.

From my spot inside, I'm clutching the curtain like it's the only thing keeping me grounded, the tension outside thick enough to cut with a skate blade. For a heart-stopping moment, I'm braced for the worst, for the night to devolve into a display of Ice family fireworks that no one signed up for.

Sean, stepping into the fray, keeps his cool, his voice a steady beacon in the stormy weather of Rand's intoxication. "Rand, man, you're louder than a playoff game in overtime. Let's dial it back, yeah? Neighbors are trying to sleep, and so are the kids."

Rand snorts, his drunken bravado bubbling over. "Oh, come on, Sean! Since when do you care about—"

"Since always," Sean cuts in, his tone firm yet devoid of aggression. "Look, I get it. You're having a rough night. But crashing here like a wrecking ball isn't going to fix whatever's got you riled up."

There's a moment, tense and teetering, where it seems Rand might escalate, his fists clenching and unclenching as he weighs his options. But Sean stands his ground, an unmovable force of reason.

"Go sleep it off, Rand," Sean continues, a hint of brotherly concern softening his words. "You'll feel better in the morning, and we can hash out whatever's eating at you, okay?"

The standoff ends not with a bang but with a begrudging nod from Rand, who finally seems to sense the sincerity in Sean's offer. Muttering something that sounds vaguely like an apology, he shuffles off towards the house, leaving Sean to watch him go, ensuring he makes it inside without incident.

As Rand stumbles off, presumably to find his bed and hopefully a sense of regret in the morning, Sean stands there for a moment longer, ensuring the coast is clear before turning back to the house.

I'm still trying to process the whole scene when Sean strides back in, closing the door on the night's drama. "Impressed?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice as he catches my wide-eyed expression.

"Definitely," I admit, my admiration genuine. "I was half expecting to have to break out the first aid kit. You handled that... really well."

Sean shrugs, the shadow of concern replaced by a casual grin. “Rand’s just going through that ‘me against the world’ phase. He’s a solid kid, though—awesome at lacrosse and fiercely protective of his little sister, Sadie. He just needs to learn a few hard lessons, hopefully, the kind he can bounce back from.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he closes the distance between us, his previous tension now dissipated into the warm ambiance of the room. "Now, where were we?" he teases, reigniting the spark that the night's interruption had momentarily dampened.

And just like that, we're back, the earlier worry evaporating as Sean's lips meet mine in a kiss that's all the more intense for the momentary pause. It's a reminder of the connection that's somehow managed to thrive amid the chaos—a connection that, despite everything, feels increasingly hard to deny.

As we lose ourselves in each other once more, the world outside fades away, leaving only the crackle of the fire and the beat of two hearts finding their rhythm. In this space, in this moment, everything else is secondary.