Chapter 20

“ Y ou’re going to stay in here, okay?” I kiss Rocket’s head before setting him down on the bed. “I don’t need you getting your ass kicked again while I’m gone.”

When I walk out of the guest bedroom, Kolt is standing in the hallway, looking down at his phone. Before he notices me, I let my eyes drink in my husband in his suit, and I have to actually focus on not letting drool slip out of my mouth because he looks so good. He didn’t wear a suit on our wedding day—we didn’t have time for that when all we wanted to do was tie the knot. But looking at him in his suit now, I sort of wish he had. Who am I kidding though? Whether it’s sweatpants and a hoodie, jeans and a T-shirt, or a full-on suit … the man is delicious.

Kolt is one of those men that women—and men—stop to look at. He’s stupidly attractive, yet he has a somewhat-unapproachable expression. That is, until he looks at me.

Well, me or Amelia Sterns.

This morning, right when I got to the office, he sent me a message, saying that he had gotten me a dress, that it would be delivered to me, that we had plans at six thirty, and to have a good day. My heart tingles because it feels like we just started dating again while also knowing everything about one another.

His head lifts, and his eyes roam my body from head to toe. When his lips part and he takes in a breath before swallowing harshly, a feeling of content washes over me. Because I love, more than anything, that I can still get that reaction from him. Even after everything, but especially after all these years since we first met.

“Wow,” he utters, dragging his hand down the back of his head and staring at me mindlessly. “You look …” He swallows. “Yeah … you look good.” He inhales again sharply. “ Really good.”

“Thanks,” I say, twirling and grinning shyly, as if it really were a first date and that we hadn’t been married for ten years. “You picked out a good dress.”

“I don’t think it’s the dress anyone’s going to be looking at tonight, Buttercup,” he says slowly, his voice raspier than normal. “You’re stunning.”

My cheeks flood with heat, but I pull myself together. “Should we get going?”

For a second, it’s almost as if he can’t respond. Blinking, he nods sluggishly. “Yeah. Let’s, uh … let’s get going.”

Fumbling around, he finds his keys and stuffs his phone into his pocket.

Why is he so nervous?

He heads toward the door, and when he opens it, he waves his hand. “Ladies first.”

Once I walk past him, I instantly feel his eyes on my ass. I couldn’t help but notice the dress he’d chosen was a little too tight on my butt. Then again, he’s always been an ass man. Proudly too. Before I left, I’m not sure there was a single day that he didn’t come home and squeeze my ass, no matter where I was standing.

Glancing back at him, I smile like a fool. Because this really does feel like we’re headed out on our first date.

As his hand slides to my lower back and he opens the passenger door for me, my eyes find him, and my heart skips a beat.

Why am I fighting it? All I want is this man.

It’s hard to enjoy the elaborate dinner in front of me when the only thing I want to eat is my wife.

Fuck, she’s perfect.

Her short hair is pulled back with some pieces hanging around her face, and her lips are painted red, making them even plumper than usual. Her dress is cut low enough to show off how perfect her tits are, but the cherry on top is her ass. Thank God she’s sitting down because if she wasn’t, my dick would be fully hard instead of a semi.

Even just looking at her brings me peace. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep her this time. I let her go once; it’s not happening again—despite what I told her.

“Is it good?” I say, clearing my throat, which doesn’t even need to be cleared. “Your steak?”

I’m not a nervous guy. Usually, I don’t give two fucks enough to feel uncomfortable. But this feels like a first impression that’s going to determine the rest of my life. I’m fucking terrified of messing it up.

I mean, Cinderella fell for me once. How the hell am I going to be lucky enough to fool her into it twice?

She nods, covering her mouth as she finishes chewing. “Very good. And yours?”

“It’s good,” I say, realizing we both keep saying the word good . “It’s great,” I add in.

“Great,” she answers before our eyes connect.

For a moment, it’s eerily quiet between us. Then, suddenly, her eyes crinkle at the sides, and a smile begins to spread across her lips. I can tell she’s going to laugh, and I’m just not sure if that’s an indicator that our first official date since we’ve been separated is going decent or down the shitter.

Putting her napkin over her mouth, she laughs harder, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” She attempts to hide a snort but fails miserably. “It’s just … why is this so weird? We’ve talked about the weather, and now, we’re talking about our food.” She slaps her palms against the table, widening her eyes while still smiling. “I feel like I’m making you very uncomfortable. Which is pretty strange, seeing as we are married and all.”

“Uncomfortable?” I cough, laugh, and wince, all at the same time. “Me? Nah. Not at all.” I pause, swallowing and shaking my head. “Fine. I’m fucking terrified right now.”

“Of me?” she snaps back, looking genuinely shaken.

“No. Well, yeah. I mean … kind of.” I sigh. “Look, I feel like I’m on a round of speed dating, and I really like you and think you’re super hot and all, but I only have, like, ten minutes to make you decide to go out with me again—or at the very least, give me your digits. Or maybe you already think I’m a loser and you’re about to take a fake call and tell me your three-legged cat needs another leg amputated or something and that you have to go.”

I’m rambling, and I don’t ramble. I’m not even sure that was something in my vocabulary before today, but, Christ almighty, she’s making me nervous.

“But if we were on a speed date, would you really know I had a tripawd for a cat?” She raises an eyebrow. “And, yes, it is a word. There’s a whole community on Facebook of people with tripawd cats. Also, why, once again, do we need to bring up Rocket and his three legs? Can we not?”

I lean back in my seat. “The stakes are high, Buttercup. That’s all I’m saying.”

She looks deep in thought for a second before a mischievous expression fills her face. “What about a round of questions? That’ll take the edge off of this night since we are clearly having trouble carrying on a simple conversation.”

“All right, I’ll play.” I shrug. “You’re first. Shoot.”

“Did you really punch a reporter outside of a club last year because he told you that you were losing your edge on the ice?” She looks genuinely intrigued but also a little mortified.

One thing that Paige has never liked is violence. Yet, somehow, she married me.

“Nah,” I say, seemingly satisfying her. “He told me he heard my wife left me for someone else. So, yeah, I fucking decked him. And it was great.”

“Dear God,” she mutters, splaying her palm over her face. “Okay, your turn.”

“Do you like Boothbay more than Portland?”

“They are pretty even for me.” She looks back up at me. “Portland has more traffic, but Boothbay is a tourist trap in the summer and gets extremely crowded too. There are pros and cons to both.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Okay, my turn. How long do you plan to play pro hockey?”

This one seems to have come out of nowhere. She’s always been supportive of my career, and maybe she still is. But the way she asked me that … it sounded odd.

“I mean, for as long as I can?” I say the words, hoping it’s what she wants to hear. “Until my body can’t do it anymore or the Sharks no longer want me.”

“You wouldn’t play for another team?” she says, raising a brow.

“I’m a Bay Shark. Have been since I made it into the NHL. I don’t want to wear any other name on my chest.” I strum my fingers on the table. “By the way, that was two questions, so now, it’s my turn. Why did you ask me how long I plan to play?”

Suddenly, she looks nervous, and she takes a sip from her water.

“Kolt, I know you love the game. You love it so much, and it’s a part of what makes you who you are.” She sighs slowly. “But you took a hit so hard that you had a heart attack.” Tears well up in her eyes. “You could have died, Kolt.”

She brings a napkin to her eyes, but before she can blot the tears away, I’m out of my chair, and I kneel next to her.

“Don’t cry, Buttercup. This is supposed to be a good date. A date to make you love me again.”

That only makes matters worse, and she cries harder. “Kolt, I’ve never stopped loving you,” she whispers. “But if we get back together and you take another hit like that one … what if you don’t wake up?” Her shoulders shake. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Shh,” I say, cupping her face as her hands grip my forearms. I bring my forehead to hers. “Baby, you never mentioned this sooner. I had no idea you felt like this.”

I hate that she feels this way. Because I know if she told me to, I’d hang my skates up for good and say goodbye to the ice. Fuck, it would hurt. But if it meant I could have my wife back … I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I thought—or hoped—that you would come to it on your own. That maybe it was too dangerous. But as the days have passed … your fire to be back has only gotten more intense.” She sniffles. “I’m terrified to let you in—to let you all the way in—and then you get hit again. Getting that phone call that you were hurt?” Her lip trembles. “It was the scariest moment of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” I say hoarsely. “I never want to put you in that situation again, Buttercup. So, if me retiring means that much to you … I’ll do it. I’ll do it if it means I can keep you.”

She blinks, sending streams of tears down her cheeks. Using my thumb, I wipe away her smudged mascara.

“But it’s who you are, Kolt.” She pushes her forehead harder against mine.

“But being your husband is who I want to be.” I swallow back the emotion. “That’s the most important job I will ever have.”

Her arms wrap around my neck, and for a few minutes, she just holds on to me. I’m thankful that I reserved a private room for us because, right now, the last thing she needs is to be on display.

“Okay, my turn.” She pulls back, sniffling. “Why was I still your emergency contact?”

I brush my thumb along her fingers. “I’d like to tell you it’s because I didn’t get around to changing it.”

She watches me intently, waiting to hear the rest of the answer, and I know right then that I need to tell her the truth.

“But that would be bullshit. Because the truth is, I had plenty of chances to change it. You’ve been my person since I was seventeen. I knew deep down that whether we were together or not, even if I’m not yours anymore … you will always be mine, Paige.” I press a kiss to her lips. “That will never change. I will never move on. I will never let go. And I will always be here.” Tears fill my eyes, and my heart squeezes inside my chest. “And if something ever happened to me, I’d want my wife to be the first to know. Because out of all the people in the world … you mean the most to me.” I kiss her again, tasting the salt from her tears. “You are the only one who matters to me.”

Sobs rip through her throat, and she throws her arms around me. “I love you,” she cries. “I love you so much.” She kisses me, putting her hands on my head. “Take me home, Kolt.”

“What about the ballet?” I utter against her lips. “You always said you wanted to go, and I never took you. I want to show you that I can be romantic and thoughtful. I want to show you that I can give you a good life. A life worth staying for.”

“Shh,” she whispers. “I don’t give a shit about any ballet, Kolt. That’s not who we are.” She kisses me again. “It’s not the elaborate dinners or dates that I’ve missed. It’s the everyday stuff that makes up a life. That’s what I’ve missed most. Things like cleaning up the yard on a weekend, going for walks around the neighborhood, driving to Starbucks together after we climb out of bed even though you don’t even drink coffee, or running to the hardware store after I look on Pinterest for DIY projects that you secretly hate to do.” She brushes her hand across my forehead. “The truth is, being away from you made me realize there is absolutely nothing wrong with a life of simplicity when you’re spending it with the one person you love most. So, take me home, Kolt. Take me home.” She pauses, her expression growing serious. “And take me to bed. Our bed.”