Epilogue
“No bad behavior today,” I whispered, straddling Sean with both hands splayed across his bare chest. “If you so much as try, you’re getting unpredictable behavior, and I’m not wearing pants, so don’t test me.”
His low morning laugh rumbled under my palm. “A bossy, butt-naked Cutie is the best way to wake up,” he purred.
“Flattery won’t save you,” I said, fighting a grin as heat curled under my skin.
He was dangerous like this—sleep-warm, sexy, amused. I gave him a warning kiss, then climbed off the bed, snagging his robe from the floor. He didn’t take his eyes off me as I tied the belt and padded barefoot toward the door.
“So sexy,” he murmured.
I flashed a grin over my shoulder. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday, Coach Murphy.”
It was September 12th. Sean turned forty-one today, and I was making him breakfast. That was what wives did right?
Wife. That word always sent a buzz through me. A happy, dizzying buzz.
In the kitchen, sunlight spilled across the counters, casting soft gold over the hush.
The house held that gentle stillness only morning could offer.
I cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked gently, letting the rhythm center me.
My rustic omelet with tomatoes, onion, and a little cheddar had quickly become Sean’s favorite breakfast.
The same one I made the morning of the Cup in our hotel suite.
I flipped the bacon, topped a lemon tart with whipped cream, and garnished a glass of berry juice with a mint leaf.
Then, I washed my hands slowly, thumbs brushing over my rings—the sapphire he’d slipped on my finger that night and the band he’d hunted down to match it, even though it hadn’t been easy.
Tray balanced in my hands, I walked toward the back porch and nudged the door open with my hip.
Sean sat up on the lounge chair, hair rumpled, his eyes dark with that lazy just-woke-up birthday smolder. He didn’t say a word as he took me in. My cheeks heated, and I rolled my eyes. The man could charm the socks off a statue, and clearly, my robe was next on his list.
“You said to behave properly. You didn’t say stop checking you out,” he said, grinning.
“Okay, Romeo. Hungry?”
“Very.”
He took the tray, set it beside him, then pulled me against his bare chest. Just like that, the man who made my heart pound like playoff overtime was at it again. Forget butterflies—a whole colony of mockingbirds flapped in my stomach as he kissed me.
When I finally pulled away, my breath came in slow, stunned pieces. Was it even legal to be this ridiculously happy before 10 a.m.?
“Your breakfast,” I said.
His lips hovered over mine. “Kissing you and seeing you in my robe? Best birthday gift ever.” He turned to the tray. “But this can’t go to waste.”
“I love how you’ve got your priorities straight. I’m perfectly fine being number one.”
He chuckled and dug in.
I curled up, legs tucked under me on the cushion next to him.
“You know,” he said between bites, “that morning at the hotel, you made this exact omelet. Then we won the Cup.”
I smiled. “Tahoe West’s first ever, the whole team losing their minds.”
It had been a historic milestone for the team, for Sean, for California hockey. I could still see him hoisting it, eyes wet, then later with Cassy perched on his shoulders for the victory lap she’d been waiting for. He didn’t say it out loud, but I knew coaches waited decades for that win.
“You did it in three years. Coaches wait a long time for that.”
He shrugged, chewing. “I had the right crew. You being the captain.”
“And your fired-up Colton Lombardi, voted team MVP by fans and players alike.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling faintly. “He had learned how to aim that fire, right into the opponent’s net.”
I grinned and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I was floating. Engaged only a few days earlier and had six weeks to plan a wedding.”
We had picked August 9th for the wedding day. Sean hadn’t wanted to wait—with the new season starting in October—and honestly, neither did I. Despite the time crunch, it came together beautifully.
I chuckled. “And you told me, ‘Take the reins on this, Cutie. You give me the time and place, and I will be there.’”
“Yeah, and you crushed it. Ben and I only showed up in suits.”
“Oh, he and his wife Kelly, such nice people,” I said, remembering the beautiful wedding basket they gave us. “And your face when you realized what the number of people on a list actually looks like in a room was priceless,” I teased.
Sean nodded over the brim of his glass.
He didn’t want a big ceremony, but with childhood friends and extended family, the list stretched. And with Sam in Baltimore, Erica Zooming in from Thailand, a mother barely faking interest, it all added up to me carrying most of the load on my side.
But I wasn’t alone.
Abby stepped in and helped. She and Cassy had moved back home to Los Gatos in June after she reconciled with Jeff, who’d cut back on his travel.
The WAGs gave unbelievable support, and Jeanne Wilson—the Tahoe West president’s wife—handed me the golden key: a wedding planner whose team worked magic the second I said, ‘Jeanne sent me.’ They made my stress disappear.
He set his glass down. “Despite my shock, it was a beautiful wedding.”
“Classic, simple, exactly how I’d pictured it. And Cassy carried the rings so proudly... I love her.”
“Seeing you with Erica made me a little jealous… in the best way.” I poked at his ribs. He grabbed my fingers. “No joke. There’s some serious sisterhood going on there.”
Erica and Josh flew in from Thailand for the wedding. I hugged her so tight I nearly bruised her ribs. For a full week, it felt like college again, only this time, I was the one with the big life milestone.
Sam flew in the night before and left right after brunch on Sunday, but even in those forty-eight hours, she made it unforgettable. Having both of them there made the day feel complete.
“It’s good to have people like her around—they hold you up when you forget how,” I said
“It was nice of her and her husband to invite us to Thailand. Next offseason will be another reunion for you two.”
“I know, I’m excited about that,” I said. Then my mom’s face surfaced. “My mom was in the room when Erica and I talked about Thailand. Her face lit up for a second, but it’s anyone’s guess what that meant.”
Sean paused, fork mid-air. “She squeezed your hand before the ceremony.”
“She did. And I let that be enough.”
My mom had been… present at the wedding. Pearls, polite smiles, posed for photos, clapped at the appropriate moments. Maybe she wanted to be happy for me, but I didn’t linger to find out.
I remembered two weeks before the wedding, I stared at the guest list with Ruby Boyd glaring back at me. Sean walked in, saw the tension on my face, and didn’t ask. He just sat beside me, took my hand, and said, “You don’t owe her a perfect daughter. You owe yourself peace.”
Today was peaceful.
I traced the edge of his tattoo with my finger. “Santorini will forever be tattooed under my skin. Cliffside views, sun-warmed terraces, lazy boat rides, mornings tangled in sheets. You touched me like the day had been holding its breath to watch.”
“I don’t know what made us choose the honeymoon there, but it was perfect,” Sean agreed. “Sunlight, sea breeze, and a promise to always choose sunsets when life gets loud.”
I’d never felt more unrushed, more seen, more loved. One sunset after another, under that endless Aegean sky, we kept choosing each other.
He lifted the last piece of lemon tart. “This is delicious.”
I laughed. “Wait until you see the dinner plans.”
He leaned in, kissed my cheek. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“My very own Coach Charming. I love spoiling you as much as you spoil me every day.”
He always knew how to get under my skin in the best way—steady and playful all at once. I suddenly pictured him lacing up tiny skates, a little one trying to keep up with his long strides. The thought made my heart do a full triple flip.
I let the thought settle before saying, “I’m thinking…”
He raised a brow. “Dangerous.”
“I want a little Murphy.”
His breath caught. He turned slowly toward me. “You do?”
“I do.”
He leaned over and kissed me. When he lifted his head, he said, “Best forty-second birthday gift ever. Can’t wait.”
“I love you, Sean Murphy.”
He lifted his glass in a lazy salute. “Right back at you, Cutie.”
THE END