31. Aubrey

31

Aubrey

Waking up to the tantalizing scent of breakfast wafting through the suite, I can't help but stretch out with a wide grin. Sunlight pours in, bathing the already stunning room in a golden glow that makes everything look like a scene from a movie.

Peeking over to the kitchen, I catch sight of Sean, and oh, my morning just got exponentially better. He's clad in nothing but his boxer-briefs, giving me a perfect view of his well-toned, definitely sculpted body that could easily belong to a Greek god—a very modern one, though. My eyes can't resist a brief tour, pausing at the scar on his shoulder, a reminder of his vulnerability.

He catches me staring, and that cocky, irresistible grin spreads across his face. "Good morning," he calls, his voice a warm embrace all on its own.

Ditching the stove for a moment, he strides over, and I'm wrapped up in his arms before I can even respond. The kiss he gives me is long, deep, and toe-curlingly good, making me forget about everything else but the feel of his lips on mine.

"Morning," I manage back, my voice a little breathless as I lean back to actually look at him. "Smells amazing in here. Chef Sean in action?"

He laughs, a sound that's quickly becoming one of my favorite melodies. "Only the best for you. Breakfast is almost ready. Hope you’re hungry."

"Starving," I admit, not just for the delicious food but for more mornings just like this one.

Our kiss deepens, hinting at more than just a morning greeting, but just as things start to heat up, the sharp pop of the toaster slices through the moment, sending us both into a fit of laughter. Sean pulls away, a mock-serious look on his face.

"Duty calls," he says, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Can't let our breakfast turn into charcoal."

As he saunters back to his culinary station, he throws over his shoulder, "I thought about room service, but I figured I'd try my hand at making breakfast for my wife." The way he says "my wife" sends a strange but delightful shiver down my spine. Married. Wow, it still feels like a word meant for someone else.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts. It's Emma. She's sent a picture of Luke and Pokey, both of them in the midst of what looks like a very serious game. They're adorable. Her message reads, "Take your time this morning, I've got Luke covered!" It's accompanied by a heart emoji.

I show Sean the picture, and we both coo over it for a moment. "Looks like we've got a bit more time to ourselves," I say, a grin spreading across my face.

Sean nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then let's make the most of it. Breakfast first, though. I promise, it'll be worth the wait."

I laugh, settling down at the breakfast bar, still amazed at how natural it feels to be here with him, doing something as ordinary as eating breakfast together, yet feeling like it's anything but ordinary.

Sean moves around the kitchen with a grace that's almost as captivating as his choice of attire—or lack thereof. I can't help but admire the view, and I'm not just talking about the Chicago skyline. The final flourish is him plating up a stack of fluffy pancakes, bacon on the side, and pouring a fresh cup of coffee that smells like heaven.

We decide to take our breakfast out to the balcony, where the city stretches out beneath us in a mosaic of morning light. As we settle in, I point across the skyline to where my apartment is, a small speck from this vantage point. He does the same, his place not too far from mine, a reminder of how our lives are beginning to weave together.

"It's strange," he starts, his gaze lingering on the horizon, "I miss the city sometimes. I've got my place here, but with the team based in Milwaukee, I'm hardly ever in town."

Curious about more than just his living arrangements, I nudge him with a smile. "Tell me how you got into hockey. What made you first hit the ice?"

He chuckles, setting down his fork for a moment. "Oh, hockey's been in my blood since I could barely walk. My dad took me to a game when I was five, and that was it—I was hooked. Before I knew it, I was on the ice, and then one by one, my siblings followed."

His eyes light up with the memories, and I can see a glimpse of the young boy who fell in love with the game, long before the pressures of professional sports weighed on him. It's a side of Sean I'm learning piece by piece

As we polish off the breakfast he whipped up, I casually ask about his family, diving into delicate territory about his mom without realizing. Immediately, I cringe at my own forwardness.

"Oh gosh, Sean, I'm sorry. Maybe that was too much."

He waves it off with a casual flick of his hand, his smile reassuring. "Hey, we're married now. Might as well get to the good stuff, right?"

He stares out at the Chicago skyline, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he goes back in time. "My mom died from complications during Emma’s birth. I was young, so what I remember most isn't so much events but the essence of her—always warm, like living sunshine."

Hearing him describe her, I can’t help but squeeze his hand a little. "She sounds like she was amazing."

"She was," he confirms with a nod, squeezing back. "And dad tried his best to make up for it, you know? But it's like there’s always been this gap where she used to be."

I nod, understanding that some losses leave a space nothing else can fill. "If it's too tough to talk about, we can change the subject," I suggest softly.

But Sean shakes his head, his expression somber yet open. "No, it’s actually nice to talk about her. Keeps her memory alive. And honestly, Emma? She’s a lot like mom was—keeps our place feeling like a home."

There’s something about the way he opens up, letting me into the more shadowed parts of his past, that makes the sprawling city below seem a bit more intimate, a bit more ours.

Sean continues. "After mom died, Pops really buried himself in the ranch. It was his way of dealing, I guess. He loved us, no doubt about it, but there was so much to do, and it kind of fell on us kids to pick up the slack."

He smiles, a touch of pride in his tone. "That's where hockey came in. It wasn't just a sport for us; it was our main hangout with dad. He coached our early teams, you know?"

I can't help but be drawn in by the warmth that spreads through his voice when he talks about those days, his eyes sparkling with fond recollection. It's clear he cherishes those memories, and his family means the world to him.

He suddenly chuckles, breaking the nostalgia with a bit of his usual cheeky humor. "Speaking of dad, it’s probably about time he found himself a new lady, don’t you think? Give us kids a break from his matchmaking schemes for us."

Laughing, I nod in agreement, the idea of Sean's rugged, tough Pops on a date painting a humorous picture in my mind. "Maybe we should set him up on a dating app," I tease, playing along.

"Yeah," Sean laughs, "Imagine Pops swiping left and right out in the barn!"

The image makes us both chuckle, and I love that despite the depth of our earlier conversation, we can pivot to lightheartedness so easily.

Sean stacks our empty plates, but as he turns to take them inside, a contemplative look crosses his face. Suddenly, he sets them back down on the table with a clatter that makes me jump a bit in surprise. He strides over to me with that mischievous glint in his eyes I've come to know well.

Before I can ask what's on his mind, he scoops me up from my chair, eliciting a startled laugh from me. "Sean, what are you—"

"The pancakes were great," he interrupts, his voice low and playful as he tightens his hold, "but I think I'm ready for something a bit sweeter now."

His grin is infectious, and any retort I might have had melts into a smile. As we kiss, his arms solid and warm around me, I can't help but feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.