Same Time Next Year

“In twenty years, Britta, when our kids ask how they came into the world, I could easily tell them it started with this dress.”

I feel a sly smile bloom against my ear. As recently as a few months ago, any mention of starting a family would have made her go white as a sheet, but not anymore. She’s able to talk about it more and more, the future becoming solid. Exciting.

The fact that it involves me will never stop being my life’s greatest miracle.

We moved to California in October.

I spent one month in the AHL before being signed by the affiliated NHL team here in Anaheim. Signed a nice contract while Britta sat right next to me at the table, visibly overcome with pride. I’m losing count of the

“best” moments I’ve racked up since meeting Britta. The night we got married, the time she showed up at my game in an Anaheim jersey and lumberjack hat, the day we walked into our first apartment together and slept side by side in sleeping bags holding hands.

Tonight is going to be another one of them.

I haven’t had the money to buy her the kind of ring she deserves.

Every day she has gone without a diamond on her finger has been physical torture. But it ends now.

My rock is finally going to wear my rock.

“Come on, I need to show you the view.”

“Lead the way,” she murmurs, slipping her hand into mine, the gesture speaking to her trust in me, and I pull her toward the deck of the team owner’s house. Earlier, before Britta arrived at the party, I came out and surveyed the beautiful Pacific Ocean in the distance, but it looks a million times better now that she’s with me, just like everything else.

She makes life a fucking joy.

I hear her intake of breath as we reach the edge of the deck, but I can’t look at the water because I’m mesmerized by the moonlight washing over her skin. Craving more closeness with her, I keep her facing the ocean and wrap my arms around her from behind, kissing the crown of her head, swaying with her as the waves crash below.

“I could have missed this,” she whispers. “I was thinking about how easily things could have been different when I left class today. I could have been going back to my apartment in Connecticut alone, instead of our place.

Our. Place. With the basil plant in the window and that weird sound the shower makes when we turn it on. The perfect bed. The music we can hear from the jazz club if we open our windows on Friday and Saturday night. I could have missed it.”

It’s almost impossible to speak. Hearing her acknowledge all those little things out loud floods me with . . . safety. I have a person who notices all the same stuff as I do. There is nothing better. Nothing. “But you didn’t miss it, Britta. You’re here—and that would have been enough, but you keep amazing me. Enrolling in business school the week after we arrived, making new friends, showing up to every damn game in my jersey and keeping the refs in check.” I inhale the scent of her shampoo. “You’re not just here; you’re outdoing yourself.”

She turns around slowly, looping her arms around my neck. “Funny, I could say the same about you, Anaheim’s dazzling new rookie.”

“Dazzling?” I snort, trailing my fingers through her hair.

“Sorry. Murderous. Intimidating. Fierce.”

“Much better.”

She laughs, tilts her head back, and we slide into a kiss. Like most of our kisses, things remain tame for under five seconds before our tongues take control, and I’m doing my best to inhale her. My hands itch to jerk up the back of her dress and grip that tush, but that probably wouldn’t make a very good impression on my new bosses and teammates. Plus, I’ve got a goal that needs accomplishing. Now.

As subtly as possible, I check my watch. 8:59.

Fireworks are set to go off at midnight at a nearby marina, but there is a private show that should be starting in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

A clap follows a boom in the night sky, and Britta gasps, turning around, away from me, her hands wrapping around the glass barrier wall. I had a vision of how this proposal would go. She would be facing me. I

would get down on one knee and give her the words that might be a formality at this point but that she damn well deserves, nonetheless.

If I’ve learned one thing being in a relationship with Britta, however, it’s that things aren’t on my timeline. They’re on ours. I adapted to this girl, and she adapted to me. And I’ll keep adapting for the rest of our lives, because that’s what allowed me to keep her—and that’s a success that can’t be measured. Keeping that in mind, I memorize the image of her outline surrounded by plumes of white, pink, and silver, and I take the ring out of my jacket pocket.

Out of the box altogether.

I pull her back against my chest with my left arm and speak in a low voice near her ear.

“You know, tonight marks the end of our expirationship.”

I watch her profile as she blinks, breathes a laugh. “It didn’t even cross my mind.”

For the briefest of seconds, the terrifying thought of what tonight could have been like, if she hadn’t given us a chance, assails me, and I have to close my eyes or get dizzy. “Good, Britta. Because we don’t have an end date.”

It’s an effort to speak around the heaviness in my throat, but I hold the ring up in front of her, watching fireworks go off in her widening eyes, hearing the sharp intake of her breath. “Oh my gosh.” Her chest heaves up, down, and I see half of the most beautiful watery smile. “Sum . . .”

“But I want to make sure we have the right beginning. The way this started was unconventional, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Not a second. I just need you to know that . . . being married to you is the best thing that will ever happen to me.” She holds out her trembling fingers, and heat presses to the backs of my eyes while I slide on the ring. “I need you to remember that we’re permanent every time you look at this hand. I need you to know I’ve got your back, every minute of every hour. You’ve got a man for life, Britta Mayfield.”

She spins around in a flash and buries her face in my chest, setting loose a happy sob that is almost drowned out by the fireworks . . . and the applause of the people who have made their way to the deck, obviously realizing what’s going on. “You’ve got me for life, too, Sumner,” she says looking up at me with shining eyes. The ones I’ll see in my children’s faces one day. The ones I’ll fall asleep thinking about every night until the end of

time. “I would walk through fire to marry you.” She hiccups against my mouth, sending my heart into a tailspin. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Britta. But all you ever have to do is walk to me.

Once you’re there, everything will be right.”

“I know.”

Those words break the dam inside me, and happiness pours out everywhere, just everywhere, and I was right. Spinning Britta around beneath the fireworks while she laughs, my ring on her finger, is another

“best” moment of my life . . .

. . . and there are a million more just around the corner.





THE END