Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
ALEC
Evie’s porch light is still on when I pull into her driveway, and there’s a light on in the living room. I told her I’d come back, so I skip knocking and just use the lock code to let myself in. I leave my shoes at the door and tiptoe into the living room.
Evie is stretched out on the couch. Her glasses are on, and a book is resting open on her chest. She looks so incredibly beautiful, and I take a minute to just look at her.
Somehow, over the past couple of months, this woman has worked her way into my heart, and I don’t have a single doubt in my mind.
From now on, I’m living for her.
For us.
I kneel beside Evie on my good knee and lift a hand to her face. She leans into the touch, then her eyes slowly flutter open.
“Hey,” I whisper, and she smiles.
“You’re here.”
“Sorry it took me so long.”
She sits up, shifting to the side to make room for me. It’s a tight fit, squeezing my six-feet-three inches onto her couch, but having her nestled against me is worth a little discomfort.
Once we’re settled, her head resting on my chest and my arms wrapped around her back, Evie asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’m really good, actually.”
She takes a deep breath and relaxes into me. “I’m so glad.” We settle into a peaceful silence for a few moments. I have more to say, but now that we’re together, Evie in my arms, I want a second to just savor being with her. Holding her like this.
Eventually, Evie lifts her head, propping it on my chest so she can look at me. “I have to show you something.”
My arms tighten around her. “Don’t get up.”
She leans up and kisses me. “I’ll be quick.”
She climbs over me and disappears into the back of the house, returning a few moments later with a notebook in her hands. I sit up, swinging my legs over to sit normally, and she plops down beside me.
“I found this when I was unpacking,” she says. “It’s my journal from my freshman year of high school.” She reaches over and flips to the back few pages. “I won’t put you through the agony of reading the entire thing—I was a tiny bit dramatic when I was fourteen—but I do think you’ll get a kick out of this.”
Scribbled on the inside back cover of the journal are at least a dozen different variations of the name Evie Sheridan.
I lift my eyebrows. Megan mentioned once that Evie had a crush on me growing up, but I never gave it much thought. It hits differently to see actual evidence of it. I lift my hand and run a finger over the largest, swirliest signature, then grin at Evie.
“I mean, it has a nice ring to it,” I say, and Evie chuckles.
“I never thought it would actually be my reality,” she says, her expression turning serious. “And even though Devon put me through so much heartbreak, I can’t regret him. One, because he gave me Juno, and two, because that heartbreak led me to you.”
I run a hand over my face. “Are you okay? After his visit? Did he upset you at all?”
She smiles, her expression serene enough that I know she’s telling me the truth when she says, “He really didn’t, actually. But also, he isn’t going to be a part of our lives.”
I don’t miss the way she says our lives.
She gives me a condensed version of Devon’s visit. His hope to get back together. His less-than-pure motives. Her insistence that he at least look at Juno. He earns back a tiny shred of respect when Evie mentions that he asked about me, hoped I would be a good father to Juno, but I can’t say I’m sad the guy won’t be around.
And maybe it’s selfish to think it, but I’m glad I’ll get to be the only father Juno knows.
At least, I hope I will be.
I look at the notebook for a long time, at the evidence of a future I never dreamed of but now can’t imagine living without. Eventually, she tugs the notebook out of my hands and climbs onto my lap. I slide my hands up to her hips and give them a squeeze. “Thank you for sending my teammates to the Summit.”
Her expression softens. “Did I guess right? That when you said you were saying goodbye, that means no more hockey?”
I nod. “No more hockey.”
“Are you feeling okay? About retiring?”
“Better than I was, for sure,” I say. “Thanks to you.”
She leans down and kisses me, and I’m tempted to give in, forget about words and surrender to the taste of her, the weight of her body as she leans against me. But there’s one more thing I need to say, so I pull back, lifting my hands to her face and gently pushing her back. “I have to say one more thing.”
“Okay,” she says, curiosity filling her big blue eyes.
“I just…” I lick my lips. “Evie, I want to be Juno’s dad. And I know it’s early still, and I don’t want to pressure you or rush into things. But I want you to know that’s where I see this going. I’m all in here, all right? With you. But with her too. And not just because of you. It’s not like I see her as necessary because you guys are a package deal. I really want to be a father. I want to be her father.”
Tears well in Evie’s eyes. “I would really love that,” she says. “It’s what I want too.”
I grin. “Okay. Now you can kiss me.”
She does kiss me. That night, and the next morning, and every day after that.
She kisses me the day I go in to talk to the Appies management and let them know my knee is never going to let me play professional hockey again, and I’m finally ready to own that truth.
She kisses me the day of her first symphony concert with the Harvest Hollow Symphony, in which she plays the very rare and apparently expensive violin she and Victoria took months to painstakingly restore.
She kisses me on the day we both take an emergency trip to New York when my dad scares us all by having a stroke. And when we learn the stroke was mild, and the most he’ll endure is a few missed pickleball tournaments.
And she kisses me when, after my retirement from the Appies is official, I offer to take over Juno’s full-time childcare.
Best full-time gig I’ve ever had, honestly. It means I’m with Juno when she takes her first steps and says her first word. It is not Dada, much to my disappointment, but it is puck, which, despite Evie’s protests, I think is almost as good. Though, having your baby girl saying puck, puck, puck, puck, puck while you walk through the grocery store does tend to turn a few heads.
Lucky for me, Evie also kisses me when I screw up. Turns out, I’m not always perfect at this whole relationship thing, no matter how hard I try. But Evie has had her own share of missteps too.
Even though loving each other is mostly amazing, I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t punctuated with short bursts of intensity, of arguments and sadness, even disappointment. But those moments just serve as reminders to focus, to connect, to look at each other and remember that what we have with each other is worth it.
And it is worth it.
When I look at my girls, with their matching blue eyes and big smiles, when I think of everything we’ve been through, of how good it feels to love them, I don’t have a single doubt in the world.