Chapter 25 #3
Unlike the playboy image we'd cultivated, Cam's home reflected the real him.
The walls featured photos of him with various teammates over the years from peewee hockey on up, with his BU hockey team, and several with Zayne and Logan.
I was surprised to find that I appeared in the background of several of his framed photos.
Interestingly, while the players in the foreground were sometimes slightly blurred, I was often perfectly in focus – as if the photographer had been aiming at me all along.
I smiled to myself as I explored the rest of his living room.
There were books everywhere – spy novels, biographies, a few cookbooks.
A massive floor to ceiling wall of old-school vinyl records.
A large, comfortable sectional faced both the breathtaking bay view.
As I settled on the couch, my eye caught something unusual on the kitchen island – a glass cake dome on a pedestal containing six delicate purple-frosted cupcakes, and a tupperware container nearby with a dozen or so unfrosted cupcakes.
"What's all this?"
Cam rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, that.
Well..." He walked to the island, picking up a piece of paper covered with what appeared to be a recipe, along with a bunch of scribbles and measurements.
"I wanted to surprise you. I've been trying to recreate those lavender vanilla cupcakes you love so much from Sweet Caroline's. "
"Really?" My heart melted. "So that explains all the baking supplies I saw the morning after I spent the night."
"Yeah. I've been practicing since that day at the bakery during our little selfie tour." He hesitated. "I still can't get the frosting quite right, though."
I crossed to the kitchen and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his shoulder blades. "You are full of surprises, Hitman."
He turned in my arms. "I like to keep you on your toes."
"I think the key is the lavender infusion time – who knew?" he said. "Sweet Caroline's frosting has this texture that's somewhere between buttercream and whipped cream."
I marveled at this side of him I'd never known about. Cam Murphy – NHL star, league heartthrob, badass enforcer – meticulously piping lavender frosting onto homemade cupcakes because he knew I loved them.
"Want to taste?" he asked, pulling a covered bowl out of the refrigerator. He grabbed a small spatula from a drawer, opened the container, and presented me with a small dollop of pale purple frosting.
“Wait, wait…” he said, “this is the best part!” He looked so proud of himself as pulled a tiny, sparkly white crown made from sugar and carefully placed it on top of the cupcake.
“For my cupcake queen!”“Aw.” I leaned forward and let him feed me the sweet confection.
The delicate floral notes mixed with vanilla and butter bloomed across my tongue.
"Oh my God," I said, genuinely surprised.
"That's really good. Like, really close to the original. "
His face lit up with pride. "Yeah?"
"Absolutely." I reached for the spatula again, but he playfully held it just out of reach.
"Payment required," he teased.
"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow, slipping into the easy flirtation that had always simmered beneath our professional relationship. "What kind of payment?"
His eyes darkened slightly. "I think you know."
I stepped closer, sliding my hands up his chest. "Would this work?" I asked innocently, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.
"Getting warmer," he murmured.
Later, we sat on his couch eating takeout lasagne which paired remarkably well with lavender cupcakes and prosecco.
With my feet in his lap, I found myself admiring the sapphire ring again.
The ocean blue stone caught the light from the floor lamp nearby, sending prismatic reflections bouncing across the ceiling.
"I hate to admit it," I said, swirling my hand to make the light dance, "but I'm actually going to be sorry to give this back. I've gotten kind of attached to my fake ring."
Cam's hands stilled on my ankle. "Who says it's fake?"
I froze. "Wait. What?"
He finally looked up at me, his expression completely serious. "It was never fake, Lana. I picked it. Paid for it. The second I saw it, I knew it was yours."
I stared at him, stunned. All this time, I'd assumed it was a prop – something borrowed or rented for the charade. "But, why would you buy a real engagement ring for a fake engagement?"
He set down his fork and took my hands in his.
"Because I hoped, somewhere deep down, that it wouldn't always be fake.
That maybe this whole ridiculous plan would give me the chance I'd been too scared to take for ten years.
" His fingers brushed over the sapphire.
"The guy from Tiffany said mermaid sapphires represent hope for a long and happy relationship.
I sort of thought that was fitting, since that has always been my hope for us too. "
I blinked rapidly against sudden tears, the full meaning of his gesture hitting me. "You romantic idiot," I managed, making him laugh.
"Your romantic idiot," he corrected, leaning in to kiss me softly.
He smiled that devastating smile. "So... about that ring..."
My heart skipped. "What about it?"
"I know we started this whole thing backward, but what do you think about making it real? Not right away," he added quickly. "We can take our time. Do it right."
I looked at him, this man I loved. Who made my heart soar and my knees weak, and fit in with my family so well it was like he'd always been there.
"I think... I'd like that." I kissed him tenderly, my heart so full it felt like it might burst. "Of course, you'll have to clear it with Nana Decker, she's still angling for a June wedding.
After all, Venus will be in Cancer. Or something. "
"It's Mars. We could make that work," he grinned, leaning over to kiss me softly. "I've been pining after you for ten years, so I'm just trying not to seem too...eager."
I laughed.
"But I am.”
"And I'm still not sure how I'm going to maintain professional distance at work when all I want to do is drag you into my office and – "
"Please continue that thought in explicit detail," he interrupted with a wolfish grin.
I laughed. "You're incorrigible."
"Part of my charm," he agreed, pulling me closer.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the lights of boats moving across the bay.
Tomorrow would bring more questions, more media attention, more decisions about how to navigate our new public relationship alongside our professional responsibilities.
But tonight was just for us – no cameras, no reporters, no expectations.
Just Cam and me, finally real. A love story ten years in the making. And it was only just beginning.
The cupcakes, the mermaid sapphire, the bay view, how easy it was to be with Cam – all of it felt like pieces falling into place.
He held me in his arms, and kissed me playfully until it deepened.
His lips moved against mine with an unhurried gentleness that made my heart flutter in my chest. The taste of cupcakes still lingered between us, sweet like the moment we were sharing.
I felt incredibly happy – complete and belonging in a way I'd never experienced before.
When Cam took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine as naturally as if they'd always belonged there, I followed him upstairs without hesitation.
The wooden stairs creaked softly beneath our feet, but I barely noticed, too captivated by the warmth of his hand and the quiet affection in his eyes when he glanced back at me.
His bedroom was bathed in moonlight, reflected off the water and streaming through the large windows, casting everything in a magical silvery glow. The bay's distant waters shimmered beyond the glass, a perfect backdrop to what felt like the beginning of forever.
Cam drew me close, his hands sliding reverently up my sides. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever known," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't believe you're finally here. With me."
I reached up to trace the curve of his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of evening stubble beneath my fingertips. "I've always been yours," I admitted quietly. It felt good to say it out loud.
We kissed again, slowly sinking onto his bed, our bodies finding each other with the certainty of puzzle pieces clicking into place.
His weight above me felt like an anchor, grounding me to this perfect moment.
We took our time undressing each other, each newly revealed patch of skin explored with gentle touches and softer kisses.
When I straddled him, looking down into those impossibly blue eyes, I saw everything I'd ever wanted reflected back at me – desire, yes, but also tenderness, admiration, and a love so clear it brought tears to my eyes.
Cam reached up to brush away a tear with his thumb, his touch feather-light against my cheek.
"I love you," he said, the words floating between us.
"I love you too," I whispered back, leaning down to kiss him as we began to move together.
Our bodies rocked in a gentle rhythm, finding a tempo as natural as breathing.
This wasn't just sex – it was communion, the physical manifestation of the connection we'd been fighting for years.
My hands splayed across his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palm.
His hands gripped my hips, guiding me, supporting me, worshipping me.
When we both reached our peak, it wasn't with the explosive urgency of our earlier encounters, but with a deep, soul-shaking intensity that left us both breathless and clinging to one another, unwilling to let even an inch of space come between us.
We lay together in his bed afterward, spent and happy – my head on his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart, his finger absentmindedly twirling a lock of my hair. Nothing outside his bedroom door existed in that moment – there was only us, wrapped in each other's warmth, finally home.
"Lana, I need to tell you something," he said quietly, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. "We're talking to Montreal in the morning..."
My heart stuttered. "And?"
"And I'm telling them I'm staying in St. Pete."
I sat up in bed and stared at him. "Cam, that deal is – "
"Life-changing, yeah." He shrugged. "But you know what else is life-changing? Feeling like I have a real family for the first time in my life. The Slashers made a strong offer for me to renew my contract. It's not Montreal money, but it's more than fair."
"But – "
"No buts," he said firmly. "This is where I want to be.
With you. With my team. With your entire extended family at the beach house.
Thirteen years of friendship with Zayne and half as many with Logan.
A Cup-winning team. The smartest PR director in the league.
And bonus, sunny Florida versus frigid Quebec means a lot more opportunities to see you in that little white bikini.
I kissed his forehead tenderly and snuggled deeper under his arm, looking up at him – at this beautiful man who'd crashed a press conference to declare his love for me, who'd chosen me over money and opportunity, who'd finally allowed himself to be seen for who he really was. The real Cam Murphy. My Cam.
The hockey heartthrob who broke my heart and somehow put it all back together again.