Epilogue Rory
ONE YEAR LATER
The Seattle rain is drumming a steady, familiar beat against the windows of our apartment.
It’s a cozy sound, one that used to make me feel restless, but now just makes me want to sink deeper into the oversized leather sofa.
The mahogany table is still there, polished and gleaming, but now it’s covered in a chaotic spread of hockey magazines, my romance and horror books, and a half-empty bowl of popcorn.
Ryan is stretched out beside me, his head in my lap as we watch some reality TV.
He’s wearing an old Knights hoodie, the one with the frayed cuffs that I’ve stolen so many times it basically belongs to me now.
His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and even, but his hand is resting firmly on my thigh, a constant, grounding weight.
"You're quiet," he murmurs, not opening his eyes. "Usually, by this time, you’ve got tons of theories about who’s going home."
I run my fingers through his hair, savoring the softness of it. "I’m just having a slow night." My secret sits like a rock in my stomach. I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to do this. I guess it’s now or never. "Ryan?"
He opens his eyes then, those dark, soulful eyes that still make my breath catch. "Yeah, tiger?"
I take his hand, the one resting on my leg, and guide it up. I press his palm flat against my stomach, right over the waistband of my leggings. The fabric is soft, the skin beneath it still flat, but everything has changed. The world has recalibrated in the last three hours, shifting on its axis.
"I think we’re going to need a bigger apartment," I whisper. “Maybe with a big backyard.”
Ryan freezes. For a heartbeat, he doesn't move, his gaze locked on mine, searching for the joke, the tease, the punchline that isn't coming.
Then, slowly, his expression fractures. The professional athlete, the man who faces down two-hundred-pound defensemen without blinking, looks completely, utterly undone.
"Rory?" he breathes, his voice cracking. "Are you… Are we…?"
"We are," I say, a tear finally escaping and tracking down my cheek. "We’re having a baby, Ryan."
He doesn't say anything. He can't. He sits up and pulls me against his chest, burying his face in my neck, his shoulders shaking with a silent, overwhelmed joy. He holds me so tight I can feel his heart beating against mine, a frantic, beautiful echo of the life we’ve built together. It might’ve started off as a fake relationship, but it quickly grew into the most real thing in the world.
Outside, the Seattle rain continues to fall, but inside, the world is quiet. Ryan pulls back just enough to kiss me, his eyes shining with a light that eclipses the city skyline.
"About time," he whispers against my lips. "I’ve been trying to knock your gorgeous ass up since I put that ring on your finger."
He shifts his weight, pulling me closer so my back is against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a protective cocoon.
I can feel the heat of his skin through his hoodie, the steady thump-thump of his heart against my shoulder blades, and the slight tremor in his hands where they rest over my stomach.
"I love you, Rory," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. "More than the game, more than the fame, more than anything. Thank you for taking a chance on a guy with a bad reputation and a desperate plan."
"Thank you for being the man I didn't know I was looking for," I reply, closing my eyes as sleep finally begins to tug at the edges of my consciousness.
Our family is growing, our love is absolute, and the future is ours for the taking. Life doesn’t get any better than this.
The End