27. Astrid #3
Sudden laughs as the tally for the vote flashes up on the Jumbotron.
“Yes, it would be,” I say as the winner is clearly Beckett dancing center ice. The least efficient of all of the choices.
“Efficiency isn’t really one of the goals here,” Andi tells her.
“No kidding,” Iris says dryly.
“It’s all for fun!” Nora says.
It’s the fourth time during the game she’s called that out to Iris.
The music starts, and Beckett skates out to center ice, spinning dramatically and striking a pose as the first beat of the song drops. He does the dance, clearly relishing the two minutes of the spotlight before skating back to the bench, waving to the thundering applause.
I look over to find Iris shaking her head but grinning despite her protests.
Then I sneak a glance at Andi. She has much the same expression as she watches Beckett show off—that head shake that says he’s ridiculous but the grin that says she finds him irresistibly adorable.
Play resumes, and the Otters quickly score, tying the game at one to one.
“Yay!” Saoirse cheers from the row behind us. “Go, Uncle Zeke!”
Iris looks at me. “I guess you don’t get too stressed about the score since you own both teams?”
I shrug. “My objective here is this.” I point to the crowd. “Everyone having fun and enjoying the game. As long as there are butts in the seats and smiles on their faces, I’m happy.”
“So no emotions at all?”
My gaze follows number seven as he heads toward the net and then shoots the puck to my brother.
“Typically, no.”
Alex shoots the puck at the net, but Hudson knocks it away, and JD takes it back down the ice.
“Is it different with Declan playing?” Iris asks.
Stupidly, yes.
He’s filling in. It’s not even real hockey. It’s not even real bonkers hockey. It’s a scrimmage.
And I wouldn’t call what I’m feeling stress.
More like… fine, it’s arousal.
I love hockey. The game itself. I don’t love a lot of the professional US hockey players. I definitely don’t love the politics of professional US hockey. But the game itself is fun to watch.
I have never, however, watched it when I’ve cared about one of the players. Sure, I care about Alex, and I would watch his games and want him to do well. But my brother always did well. I didn’t watch his games with any extra buzz zinging along my nerve endings.
Not the way I’m watching Declan.
The way he moves on the ice is powerful and graceful.
He skates and shoots with that same take-charge air that he brings to everything he does. That take-charge air that makes my entire body jumpy and tight. In a good way.
Am I stressed or nervous about the game?
Not at all.
Do I want to go back up to my office, strip off my clothes, and lay myself out on my desk for number seven to do whatever he wants to me?
Hell, yes.
I know he will be hesitant about trying again. He will hate that I had pain and that he was a part of it. It’s going to take some convincing. But we are going to have sex. We have to. I have to see if I can make it work. Before we go to Cara for the annulment.
The clock continues to tick down, and it looks like we’re going to end in a tie.
Tiebreakers are fun. There are no extra periods or shootouts. Instead, the fans decide how to determine the winner if the score is tied after three periods.
Usually.
Tonight it’s different. For a reason that Nora did not share with me, the teams have apparently each prepared a mystery performance to use in case of a tie. Mysteriously. As if they knew there would be a tie…
Hmm…
The final buzzer sounds and the one-to-one score flashes on the Jumbotron.
The crowd acts as if their team won the final championship.
No one even stands up to stretch. There’s an excited buzz in the arena.
“This tie seems very coincidental,” I say to no one in particular.
“It’s a tie!” Nora announces just then, unnecessarily but excitedly, to the crowd. “And first up in the mystery performances is… The Otters!”
Quinn Trahan skates out to center ice.
I sit up straighter. Quinn hates the spotlight. She never volunteers to perform and only agrees when it’s a group number.
For a moment, I think this might be a group number. JD, Zeke, and Ingrid skate out with her, but it’s quickly clear that they are the backup singers.
Her voice is a little wobbly when she starts, but she hits her stride surprisingly quickly on Queen’s “Somebody to Love”. Then another singer skates out for the second verse.
The crowd goes wild.
I turn to look at Iris. Her mouth is hanging open.
“Miles?” I ask. “How did he even know about this?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I have no idea.”
We watch Quinn and Miles sing together and even execute a little twirl and a dip at the end.
The crowd is crazy for them. And, after all, there’s still a good portion of town that is Team Miles. When he was announced to be filling in on the Otters tonight, he got a standing ovation.
I watch them skate off together, laughing.
The lights go down, then come back up, and Nora announces, “Now for the Revelers’ mystery performance!”
The lights go down again, for a longer moment this time.
Then the spotlight comes on, shining right on the team logos at the middle of the rink.
Iris gasps, and I feel my breath lodge in my chest.
“No way,” I hear Fiona say behind me.
I feel Sutton on one side and Andi on the other turn to look at me.
But I can’t tear my eyes away from the spotlight.
More specifically, on my husband standing in that spotlight. With a microphone in his hand.
Two players skate out to stand behind him. Alex and Beckett take their places behind him and link their arms around one another's shoulders. They start swaying to music playing overhead, but Declan says, “I need one more person out here with me. Astrid, will you join me?”
I sink down in my seat.
But the spotlight finds me.
Shining brightly, directly on me. There is no escape.
Declan grins. “Come on, sweetheart. Come help me out.”
Okay, so this is essentially a Team Miles-Team Declan thing.
I get it.
And he’s pulling me into it because I pulled him into this entire thing.
I blow out a breath.
I kind of owe him.
And hey, there’s really no one in this arena, including him and Alex, who know better how to put on a show than I do.
The arena starts applauding, and I hear, “Go on, Astrid!” and “Astrid! Astrid! Astrid!”
I’m nudged from behind, and I hear my niece say, “Come on, Aunt Astrid.” Saoirse sounds delighted.
I look around.
There are smiles, laughter, and faces full of joy.
This is what it’s about. This is why I do this.
And Declan is helping me do it.
I push up from my seat, smiling in spite of myself. The cheers get louder as I make my way down to the spot in the short wall around the rink where Nora enters and leaves the ice as she helps with games and announcements.
Nora opens a little door with a huge grin and gestures for me to step out.
Declan is there with a hand out so I don’t slip.
Of course, he is.
I take his hand, his palm warm and strong.
“So what are we doing?” I ask him.
Instead of answering, he lifts the microphone and starts to sing.
And dammit, he’s even good at that.
As he sings the first line from Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”, I find my eyes welling with tears.
I know my smile is wobbly because I’m struggling to hang onto it while I want to cry and kiss him and laugh all at the same time.
He pauses and tips his head. “The next line is yours, Firework.”
I suck in a quick breath. He just called me his nickname in public. Into a microphone. In front of most of the town.
I shake my head.
And then…what the hell…I sing the next line of the song to him.
His smile is huge and bright, and he chuckles happily before continuing the song.
We go back and forth for a verse and the chorus with Beckett and Alex humming behind us, and by the time we finish, the entire crowd is on its feet, cheering.
Declan pulls me in against his chest and kisses the top of my head. “You’re incredible,” he says for my ears only.
I would tell him the same, but I can’t speak past the tightness in my throat.
I just hug him and plan to tell him that, and so much more, later. When we’re alone. And naked.