Tripp pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. His crooked smile is in place, doing weird things deep in my gut, and even though our hockey playing has seen better days and is a constant source of annoyance, I’ve never seen him so happy. It’s all there, in his big eyes, in the way he looks at me, so much happiness radiating from him that he could light up a whole damn hockey stadium.
My throat clogs with emotion as I realize I almost missed this.
That we might have made it our whole lives totally in love but not together. I shudder even imagining that future.
Thank fuck for being a dumbass.
Thank fuck for my harebrained idea and Tripp reluctantly going along with my plans.
I frown at that thought. It was reluctant. And even though neither of us regrets what happened, I maybe regret one thing.
I duck my lips to his ear and utter the two words I should have said to begin with. “Marry me?”
Tripp jerks back, obviously trying not to laugh. “Ah … are you having an episode? Quick, what day is it?”
I pinch his side. “I’m serious, you dick.”
“What do you mean? We’re already married. You have been following the last few months, haven’t you?”
“Okay, even I’m not that dumb.”
“You sure? Because you’re not being convincing right now.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just … you never got that. You never had the actual proper proposal. You had me rambling at you about being freaked-out and needing you all so I could marry someone else and I—” I shake my head again. I can’t seem to stop.
Fuck it.
I sink to one knee.
And almost cop a hip to the head for my efforts.
Okay, so maybe the middle of the dance floor wasn’t the smartest place for this, but I’m all in now. And then I glance up and find Tripp looking at me with an expression that steals my breath. I slide the titanium band off his finger that we bought when we decided we were staying together and hold it up.
“You deserve to bring a man to his knees,” I shout over the music. “And you do with me. Every day. You’re amazing, and I can’t believe I’m the one you chose, even when you thought that meant choosing nothing.”
Tripp steps closer and cups my face.
“But I’m going to give you everything now. Because that’s what you do for me.” I reach up and grab his shirt, tugging him down so I don’t have to shout anymore. “Will you marry me?”
His face explodes with a smile. “You dopey, romantic man. Of course I will.” He hauls me to my feet to avoid us getting trampled and takes my mouth in a kiss that leaves me weak. I cling to him, not wanting him to get too far, and when he pulls back and holds out his hand, it takes me a second to remember I’m still holding his ring.
I slip it on and pull out my phone.
“One other thing we never got to do.”
“Take a selfie? Because we’ve got a thousand.”
“The obligatory announcement photo.”
“Geez, you’re weird.”
I pull him against me. “Says more about you than it says about me.”
Then he holds up his hand as I press a kiss to his cheek. My flash goes off, and even with the photo done, we still don’t break apart.
Together is where we’re meant to be.
I open my private social media page and upload the photo along with a three-word caption.
He said yes.
Thirty-Four
TRIPP
I raise my hand to knock on Ezra’s apartment door, and he answers with a, “Hey, losers.”
“Why are we friends with you again?” I ask.
“Because since being with Anton, I have simmered into a mature human being, and you love me.”
Dex cocks his head. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“So why are we losers?”
“Because you didn’t get picked for All-Stars. Duh.”
“Neither did you,” I point out.
“No, but Anton did, so therefore, I’m not a loser by association. Also, Boston’s not sitting below Buffalo on the leaderboard for points this season.”
“Hey, Buffalo are having a surprisingly good season,” I argue. I don’t add on the for them part. “They might actually make a playoffs one of these days.”
“Mm, maybe. Rumor has it Little Dalton will be joining them next season.”
“Westly’s brother?” I ask. West was part of the Collective before he retired.
“Yep. Someone else is going to have to invite him to join the queer collective though. For some weird reason, he doesn’t like me?”
“Someone not liking you? Shocking! Let us in.” I push past him. “So just how much has Anton been rubbing All-Stars in your face?”
“He’s been unbearable since he found out.”
That sounds about right.
Inside the apartment, some of the other Collective are already there. Ollie Strömberg, Oskar, who’s talking to someone vaguely familiar but I can’t place. And retired Caleb Sorensen.
“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple,” Ollie says.
“Here we are. In the flesh.” It’s the first time we’ve all been in the one place for a while, though we are missing a few. Foster is playing with Anton at All-Stars, and West is at home in Vermont with his family. Still, I wait for the inevitable questions to come.
Instead, Ollie turns to Ezra. “Got any Macallan? I think it’s time we officially welcome Dex into the fold. That is, if the marriage is actually legit?” He gives us a pointed look. “It’s hard to tell with the conflicting stories in the media.”
Some people have bought the truth—that it started as a joke, but now we’re in love. Others are skeptical.
“It’s legit,” Dex says and throws himself on the couch next to Ollie. “All I’m saying is why couldn’t any of you have pointed out to me that I was in love with Tripp all this time?”
Ezra curses. “No. Do not tell Anton he was right. He loves being right.”
Oskar nods. “We didn’t know. We thought you were his big affectionate puppy.”
“Oh, he’s that too,” I say and squeeze in on the end of the couch next to my husband. “But what can I say? My winning personality is clearly what won him over. Because unlike some people in this room—” I cover the word everyone with a cough. “—I am humble and nice.”
Dex wraps his arm around me. “Oh, pumpkin. I know you think you’re joking, but that’s actually true.”
“True in comparison to all of you, maybe.”
“Hey, Lane might beat you out,” Oskar says, gesturing to the guy next to him, who has a scowl on his face. “Mr. Goody Two-shoes over here is always nice. Except when it comes to me. Then he can be as naughty as he wants.”
“Lane …” I say. “As in your team’s PR dude who you like to torment?”
Lane huffs. “Oh, great. So you’ve told them about me.”
I have to say, I get what Oskar means. With his dark hair and silver-flecked beard, Lane is the kind of guy you want to punish you.
“We’re dating.” Oskar places his arm around Lane’s shoulder.
Lane takes Oskar’s hand and places it back in Oskar’s lap. “You can dream, but we both know I’m making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble because apparently, babysitting you is a full-time job, and you’ve already run off my interns with your shit.”
“See? He’s falling in love with me,” Oskar gloats.