Epilogue
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Piper
“Morning, Piper!” CJ, the security guard stationed at the entrance to the Arena, calls out.
I wave at him and head for the media room, behind schedule but not wanting to be rude. “Morning, CJ. How are the grandkids?”
“They won’t stop talking about the tour you gave them last week. Sarah wants to be a hockey player now. Watching from the stands isn’t going to cut it anymore.”
“As she should. We need more female hockey players, and Emmy will be thrilled. Tell them they’re welcome at the arena anytime.”
I hum as I make my way down the familiar tunnel, in a good mood that seems to follow me everywhere these days.
It’s been a wild year since the Stars won the Stanley Cup.
I secured a contract extension, got promoted to lead play-by-play commentator—becoming the first woman in NHL history to hold the position—and dove headfirst into working my ass off.
After an aggressive free agency period last summer that had dozens of teams vying for our guys with signing incentives and massive paychecks, our core group of players came back in an attempt to repeat their championship run.
So far, it’s going exactly like we hoped. They’re deep in the Eastern Conference finals, up three games to one against New York, and hoping to close out the series tonight at home.
They really want to keep the Cup in DC.
My friends are as happy as ever, with Maverick and Emmy settling in nicely out in the suburbs and Maven and Dallas welcoming a healthy baby boy who is as cute as can be. He’s pulling himself up to stand already, and I think they have a future football player on their hands.
My sweet Lexi is still a proud single woman who would rather not do a project than ask a man for help. Stubborn and sharp, I admire her ability to not give a fuck.
“Little P! There’s my favorite reporter!” Ethan calls out, grinning at me.
I can spot his black eye from over here. The mark and bruise on his cheek are left over from a motorcycle crash that landed him in the hospital for two weeks and earned him a string of expletive-laced text messages calling him out for his daredevil ways from the team once they knew he was okay.
“I’m one of the only reporters, Ethan.” I laugh when he scoops me up in a hug and spins me around. “Gosh, I’m glad to see you. You look so much better than you did in the hospital.”
“That’s because those gowns don’t bring out all my pretty features.”
“Glad to see your humility didn’t take a beating in your collision with the guardrail.”
“I’m invincible, P, and I feel fan-fucking-tastic. It was a little touch and go there for a while, but I’m on the mend. Bummed I can’t play if we make it to the finals next week, but I’ll be back stronger next season and ready to kick ass.”
“You must not be very good if the boys are doing fine without you.”
“You’ve gotten snarkier since you started rendezvousing with Sullivan. I like it.” He sets me back on two feet and flashes me another grin. “What are you doing here so early?”
“We have one of the most important games of the season tonight, and I can’t sit at home. I’m too jittery there.” I fix my skirt and give his shoulder a gentle nudge. “And stop doing strenuous activities. Lifting me could hurt your stitches.”
“Rude of you to assume I’m so weak I can’t lift you. You’re light as shit.” He turns for the locker room. “I’m going to terrorize Maverick and Hudson for a bit. Don’t work too hard. You need to have some fun in your life too.”
“Says the guy dealing with a concussion.” I laugh, heading the opposite direction before another player can catch me off guard.
“Going somewhere?” a deep voice says from behind me, and I can’t help but smile at the familiar tone.
It’s the same one that whispered good morning in my ear just before the sun came up earlier today. The one that asked if I wanted it gentle or rough last night when his hand was buried in my jeans and his mouth was on my neck. The one that said I love you a million different ways over the last year, my favorite being the heart he holds up when he skates on the ice, finding me in the crowd right away.
“Yes, actually. Away from all you boys.” I glance over my shoulder. Liam is leaning against the wall in jeans and a T-shirt, watching me. His eyes roam down my body greedily, taking in my outfit, and a flash of heat blazes behind his gaze. “You’re annoying.”
“At least we’re consistent.” He walks my way me. A smile draws at the corners of his lips and the pink mark I left on his throat two days ago sneaks out from under his collar. When he gets close enough to reach me, he tugs on my skirt and pulls me into his hold, arms settling around my waist. “Hey, Sunshine.”
“Hey, Sully.”
His warm fingers curl around my chin and lift my head so he can press a kiss to my mouth. I melt into him, sinking into the feeling of being home, of being loved, of being so unbelievably happy, sometimes I think I’m dreaming all this up.
I laugh every day. I smile every day. I hear how incredible I am, how wonderful I am, how proud he is of me every single day . I could burst from the wonderfulness of it all, but I’ve learned to sink into it. To recognize this is what I deserve. What I’ve waited for, and I’ve welcomed it with open arms.
Liam and I did things backward with the whole getting-drunk-and-married-in-Vegas thing, so we’ve spent the last year backpedaling. Dating each other. Getting to know each other on a level where I can tell you his goals, his biggest dreams, and his scariest fears.
Neither one of us offered up the idea of a divorce, and the further removed we got from the inebriated ceremony, the more I fall in love with him.
Which is wild, considering I’m obsessed with the man. Wearing his jersey to the arena. Getting a little L tattooed on the back of my right forearm.
He has a matching one on his left arm, so he must be obsessed with me too.
“Are you busy?” Liam moves his mouth to the spot below my ear, kissing me there and brushing his nose against my cheek. “Or can I steal you for a while?”
“Depends. Is it to make out in a supply closet?”
“Something far more serious than that. We’re at work, Mitchell. Have some decorum.”
I untangle our limbs and look up at him. I revel in the grin on his face and the wrinkles around his eyes. The scrunch of his nose and the laugh lines that have gotten deeper in the last twelve months because he’s learned not to take life so seriously.
“Is it your hamstring? Are you hurt? I knew we shouldn’t have played paintball with the guys last weekend. If Coach finds out you?—”
Liam cuts me off with another kiss. Hungrier this time, like he’s been starving for years and finally getting the chance to eat.
“It involves you, actually.”
“What did I do?”
“It’s what you’re going to do. The team is putting together a women-in-sports montage to feature on social media next month, and they want to feature you.”
“What’s so special about little old me?”
“Must be the whole first-female-broadcaster accolade. Oh, or the broadcasting hall of fame nomination after only one year in the field. Maybe the nonprofit you and Emmy started that hands out scholarships to women in athletic-centered careers caught their attention?”
“That is a lot of attention. It’s not just me, is it?”
“Nope. Women from different divisions will be featured. You’ll be in it for two minutes tops.”
“Okay.” I nod, grateful for a platform to shout out my love for female athletes. My adoration for women in sports and all the roles those jobs encompass. “I’ll do it.”
Liam holds out his hand. I lace our fingers together and he tugs me to the media room. I’m expecting a whole production team. Big lights and half a dozen cameras that capture all the angles of this interview, but when we walk inside, there are only two stools set up in front of a single camera.
“Pick a seat,” he says.
“This is weird,” I answer, choosing the one on the left. “A little bit like an interrogation.”
“You’ve interviewed dozens of people over the years.” Liam sits next to me. He barely fits on the stool with his long legs and wide shoulders. When he’s as settled as he can be, he grabs the edge of my chair and drags me over to him, our knees knocking against each other. “Now it’s your turn to be in the hot seat.”
“Oh and you’re doing the interviewing? I thought you hated being in front of the camera. The Christmas cards we sent out last year featured ugly sweaters and your scowl.”
“Piper Mitchell. When did you first realize you liked sports?” he asks, ignoring me.
“I was a coxswain on my high school crew team, and that was my first real exposure to athletics. In college, I worked at the arena box office selling tickets. I was there for basketball, volleyball, and hockey. I loved the energy the students and fans brought, so on one of my days off, I decided to go watch a hockey game. I’ve been hooked ever since.”
“Did you always want to work in sports?”
“No, not really. I’ve always liked talking to people. Learning their stories and getting to the root of why they operate the way they do. When I was younger, I wanted to be a teacher. My early teenage years, I wanted to do something with psychology. When I got to college, I discovered I could have a career that merged both sports and talking people’s ears off. I started in the sports broadcasting department and never looked back.”
“You can only pick one favorite Stars memory. What is it?”
“You need to step up your interview questions, Sullivan. That one is easy: watching you win the Stanley Cup. That save at the end of regulation was unbelievable.”
“Everything else I do in my career is going to be shit,” Liam agrees, and I laugh. “Speaking of goals: where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Wow. That was a nice pivot.” I cross my legs and tap my cheek. “I’d like to still be with the Stars. I love our broadcasting team, and I think we’re doing good work. I’d love for our nonprofit to expand throughout the country and not just be confined to the DC and Maryland area. I hope I can keep inspiring young women out there who are afraid there isn’t space for them in a world dominated by men. We have to make our own room, and we’re getting there.”
“Let’s talk about your personal life. I hear you got married.”
“Yeah, to this guy I got drunk with in Vegas. He wouldn’t let me get a divorce, though. I’m kind of stuck with him.”
“He sounds horrible.”
“The worst, honestly.”
“Let me know if he ever gives you any issues. I’ll put him in his place.”
“Sounds a little bit like you’re flirting with me.” I lean forward, invading his space. “I’m not sure my husband would like that very much.”
“I can probably take him.” Liam kisses my forehead, and I smile. “Who decided getting drunk then married was a good idea?”
“Tequila, apparently.”
“That son of a bitch.” He lifts my hand and examines my fingers. “I see you’re wearing a ring.”
“It’s nothing special, but I like it.”
“Tell me about the proposal. Was it nice?”
“Did you miss the part about tequila?” I laugh again. “I’m pretty sure the handle of alcohol was proposing to me.”
“Huh. Doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“It might not have been at the time, but I like what we have now: a life together. A friend for Pico. Driving to the arena and hanging out with all the people we love so much. You know I don’t need all that fancy stuff.”
“Hang on a second.”
Liam stands and pulls a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. It’s weathered and worn and had to have been read a hundred times.
“What’s that?”
“This?” He unfolds the corners delicately. “A list of all your favorite things. A list of all the things you hate. Important dates and the proposal you wished you had.”
My heart hammers in my chest. “You wrote all of that down?”
“Every word. I started it when this was casual between us, but then I kept it. Added things to it here and there over the weeks that passed. Some are more important than others, but all of them are important.”
I squint at the paper and try to make out his messy handwriting. I see dogs circled and underlined three times under things I like. Spinach under things I hate. A note scribbled in the top left corner that says I prefer the right side of the bed and have to sleep with socks on. It’s detailed. Thorough. The entire page—front and back—is covered, and I nearly stop breathing.
“You don’t need all that stuff now. There’s nothing to study or learn.”
“You think I didn’t have a plan, Piper?”
“You always have a plan,” I whisper.
Liam steps close to me. I can smell his cologne; woody with a hint of spice. Can see the flecks of gold in his eyes and the tan on his neck from when we spent too long outside on the balcony two weekends ago, curled up on a chair and enjoying the fresh summer air.
“I wanted to make sure when I got to this part, I wouldn’t fuck it up. I wouldn’t give you roses when you so clearly like—” He reaches past my shoulder and grabs a bouquet wrapped in brown paper. The stems are tied with a neat bow around them, and I smile at the burst of color. “Peonies.”
“These are beautiful. But why are you?—”
“I wanted to make sure if I ever got the chance to do this for real, I’d do it right. You told me you wanted small. Intimate. In a place you love surrounded by the people you love. Nothing fancy or over the top. A restaurant was certainly out of the question and on the big screen during a game was a death wish waiting to happen.”
He takes the flowers from me and sets them on his stool. He helps me stand, rubbing his palms up and down my arms. There’s a slight shake to his hands, a nervousness I’ve rarely seen from him in the twitch of his palms.
Liam Sullivan is the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. The master of operating under pressure, but right now, he looks terrified .
“Piper Mitchell. I love you very much. It hurts when you’re not around. I miss you when you’re gone and I count down the minutes until you come home. I’ve never cared about someone the way I care about you. I’ve never felt like I can be myself around anyone the way I can be myself around you. And, the craziest fucking thing is, you love me too. You love me when I’m grouchy. When I’m mad at the world. You hold me close when I don’t want to talk to another person.” Liam shakes his head like he doesn’t believe the things he’s saying, even though they’re all true. “Your first wedding sucked. Your second wasn’t much better. I think the third time will be the charm, and you’ll make me the luckiest fucking guy in the world if you marry me again. For real.”
“Oh my god.” I throw my arms around his neck. Tears prick my eyes and my vision goes blurry. It feels like I’m short of breath. Crossing the finish line of a race I’ve been running for years . “Yes. Yes . Of course, Liam. Of course I’ll marry you again.”
“No tequila this time. Just you and me, and a hundred of our closest friends.”
“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” He smiles then digs into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box. He opens it and a diamond blinks back at me, bright and twinkling and entirely too big. “I can’t wear that. I’m going to get robbed.”
“At least you can cut their cheek if they try.” Liam slips the ring on my finger and kisses my knuckles. “I know you like the old band, and I do too. I don’t need a new one, but I’ll get you a new one if you want to match the set.”
“No.” I shake my head and cup his cheeks, the new piece of jewelry heavy on my hand. “I want the shitty gift shop silver for the rest of my life. I don’t care if they don’t match. You can’t spoil me too much.”
“Going to spoil the shit out of you from now until eternity.”
“Can we come in now?” someone yells from behind the door, and I bury my face in Liam’s shirt. “We’re fucking dying out here, man.”
“Come in, you fuckers,” Liam answers, and the door flies open.
There’s so much noise my ears hurt. The boys clap a hand on Liam’s shoulder, congratulating him. They take turns kissing the top of my head and putting me on their back, celebrating. Maven, Emmy and Lexi are here too, jumping up and down when I show them the ring.
It’s loud and warm and perfect. Exactly what I missed out on with my first two proposals and exactly what I’ve always wanted. I don’t know how I ended up here, with a man who looks at me like I hung the moon and a group of friends I couldn’t dream up if I tried, but it was worth wading through the shit for.
It was worth the nights I spent crying and the days I felt alone, because right now, surrounded by the most important people in my life and in my favorite spot, I know there will never be another moment when I’m alone.
“Sorry for all the chaos.” Liam presses his lips to my cheek and plays with my sleeve. “I thought it would be a little more organized than this shitshow, and this isn’t exactly intimate.”
I wipe my eyes. “It’s perfect. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You mentioned a while ago that you wouldn’t take another man’s name again.” His hand moves up to my hair, cupping the back of my head. “And I want you to know I’d never force you to take mine. In fact, I’ve been thinking about taking yours.”
“Oh?” I lift an eyebrow. “What kind of power play is that?”
“Only that you’re a badass woman, Piper Mitchell, and it would be a goddamn honor to share a name with you.”
“We might be able to make that happen.” I nudge his stomach with my elbow and he lifts me up, tossing me over my shoulder. “ Hey . What are you doing?”
“Taking my wife away from all these goddamn hooligans. I’m a selfish man, Piper, and I want you all for myself.”
“Say my wife again.”
“I’ll say it as many times as you want.” Liam waves to his teammates and ignores their catcalls. He marches us to the locker room and a thrill runs up my spine. “So much you’re going to be sick of me.”
“I could never be sick of you.”
“We’ll see about that.” His palm cups my ass and he squeezes the curve of my backside. “Ready for your next lesson, wife?”
“What are you going to teach me today, Goalie Daddy?”
“It’s a math project. We’re going to measure the distance between your ass on the locker room bench to my mouth between your legs when I’m kneeling on the floor.”
“Wow. I hope I can handle that. Will you go slow with me? It’s my first time, and I really want to do well.”
Liam’s touch turns gentle, and I feel it behind my ribs. In the spot carved out of my chest where his love for me resides and all the way down to my toes.
“I’ll wait the rest of my life for you, Sunshine,” he says, and I can hear the smile infused in his words. “You take as long as you need.”