Page 141 of Hockey Wife
And he didn’t.
“Am I right here, Georgia? Did something happen in Vegas?”
I’m not over you. I’ll never be over you.
She nodded.
“Tell me.”
“I found something of my own. Someone who saw me.” She wailed, “Then I second-guessed everything! When the annulment didn’t take, I saw a second chance to grab what I truly wanted, even if I couldn’t admit it aloud. I could have kept quiet, but you’re right. A part of me wanted my parents to know I’d taken this step.” She pressed a hand to her chest, as if that could keep her heart inside.
Impossible, as it turned out.
“For me. But once we were together, faking it or pretending to—God, I don’t know—all the doubts came flooding back. I’d tricked you into this caper, and you were being so kind to go through with it.”
He smiled. “Not kind. Completely selfish. I wanted you so badly. This fine, beautiful woman who was so full of life and joy. I saw my chance to make it happen, first in Vegas and then again, here, when you walked into the Empty Net and blew up my world. But damn, I fought it hard. No way could you truly want this guy with one foot in retirement, one foot in this half-life. And when I ended up riding the pine in the middle of the playoffs, it messed with my head. Made me feel like I couldn’t take care of you, be the man you need. I took it out on you and that was wrong. It had nothing to do with what you told Tara, but even if it was, it wouldn’t have mattered. You were worried about me. You had a right to be worried about me, because that’s what people who care for each other do.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” She placed a hand on his chest, where it belonged. “But to think that somehow you were diminished because of your injury, that I wouldn’t see you as strong enough to be my rock, to be my everything is crazy. I’m so mad at you for even going there.”
His hands slipped to her waist. “Mad enough to not give me a divorce?”
“It’s an annulment. And I’d have to think about it.”
He jack-knifed to the floor.
She gasped. Then gasped again when he pulled out a ring box.
It was already open, her pink solitaire winking back at her. No other would do.
“Are you sober?” she whispered.
“Drunk as a lord on Georgia Bankowski.”
She swiped at a tear. Georgia Bankowski. She didn’t like that much.
She loved it.
“Oh, Dylan.”
“I love you, Peaches. I love your strength, your optimism, your cheer, how you pulled me out of my funk in Vegas and gave me something to hope for. To strive for. A future after hockey.”
She covered her mouth. “With me?”
“No one else I’d rather spend it with. Now, I know I’m older and things are just kicking off for you?—”
She fell to her knees, meeting him where he knelt, and placed two fingers on his lips.
“I don’t care that you’re older. I don’t care that it seems like we’re in different places because when we’re together, it feels like the same place. The kitchen with you making me tea. The sofa with you explaining hockey. Our bed with you doing very naughty things.”
He grasped her fingers, pulled them from his lips, and kissed the tips. “They’re not naughty when they’re done to your gorgeous peach of a wife.”
“They’re the naughtiest of all!” She placed her hands on his chest and absorbed all the strength that gave her. Her rock. Her man. “I love what you do to me in bed. What you do to me everywhere. Because what you do is see me. You’ve always put me at the center of your world. I love you for that, Dylan. For every heartbeat and happy thought and shining moment. I love you so much.”
His eyes grew misty, and a smile teased his lips.
“Where does that leave us?”
Where, indeed? “You called me Georgia Bankowski.”