Chapter Eleven
Emelia
The photo of us kissing at dinner leaks. So does one of him carrying me through the restaurant. And another of us, stumbling out of his truck, looking like we were up to no good.
I don't mind. Maybe I should, but I don't.
The headlines aren't salacious. They don't paint me as a fling or Royce as a player. I'm not his publicist in them. He isn't my client. We're just two people in love.
I can live with that.
I'm not so sure about my dad, however.
By the time we land in Nashville three days later, he's seen the photos, and he is not thrilled. I think it was one thing for him to know about Royce. It's something else for him to have seen the evidence plastered all over the paper.
He's currently dealing with one of his worst nightmares: His daughters growing up and falling in love.
He and my mom are waiting for us on the tarmac at the airport.
"Mom!" I cry, rushing straight into her arms.
"Hey, baby girl." She flings them around me, wrapping me up in a tight hug. "You look so happy," she whispers in my ear.
"I am," I whisper back, peering over her shoulder at my dad, who is looking everywhere except at Royce. "Is he mad?"
"No, honey. He's just worried about you. He knows how much sacrifice comes with loving men like him and Royce."
"Love isn't a sacrifice."
My mom smiles at me, her expression soft. "I know that. You just need to remind him."
I pull away from her, take a breath, and then step forward to hug him. "Hi, Dad."
"Hey, baby girl." He scoops me into a fierce hug, his lips planted against my forehead. "How was the flight?"
"It was good." I don't mention that Royce and I tried to have sex in the bathroom of the small plane. Turns out, trying to climb a goalie in an airplane bathroom—even if the airplane is private—is damn near impossible. Who knew?
"You fly back out tomorrow?" he asks.
"Yeah. Royce has a game, so we have to get back."
My dad sighs, his gaze drifting to Royce. "So, he's the one, huh?"
"Yes," I whisper. "Please be nice."
"Plan on it, baby girl."
I narrow my eyes on him, which just makes him chuckle.
"Relax, Em. I'm not going to give the man grief," he mutters, tapping me on the nose with an amused smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I know better than that. You're too much like your mom to need me to kick ass for you.
You can do that all by yourself. I just want to meet him, make sure he knows what's at stake if he fucks up with you. "
"Fine," I grumble, "but if you're mean, I'm not talking to you."
He chuckles, shaking his head at me. "Just fucking like your mom."
"Royce." I hold out my hand for him.
He steps forward, lacing his fingers with mine.
"Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Royce Elliot. Royce, this is my mom, Kelsey, and my dad, Kris," I murmur, introducing them.
"I've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Jónsson," Royce murmurs to my mom. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"It's so good to meet you, Royce," she says, pulling him into a fierce hug.
When she releases him, he turns, shaking my dad's hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
"Likewise." Dad looks him up and down. "Gotta say, I would have preferred to meet you before my daughter ended up all over the news with you."
"Dad!" I cry.
"What? I'm just saying."
"Behave, Kris," Mom says, patting him on the chest. "I seem to recall the two of us ending up in the news more than a few times over the years."
Dad narrows his eyes at her, but it's not like he can deny history or anything. She passed out at a game when she was pregnant with me, and my dad walked off the ice to be with her. For a while, they were all over the news.
"I love your daughter, sir," Royce says, his voice firm and clear. "I can't promise that she won't end up in the press, but I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to ensure that she's happy, healthy, and safe."
"Yeah? And how are you going to do that when you spend half the season flying around the country?"
"The same way I always have with my family," Royce says, not missing a beat.
"I don't know how much you know about me, but I know how important family is, sir.
I went pro to help ensure my parents had the help they needed caring for my brother.
Family has always come first for me. Now, your daughter does. "
"Your brother is sick?"
"Heart defect," Royce confirms. "He requires around-the-clock care."
My dad's expression softens. "I'm sorry."
"He has a full life. He's happy and as healthy as can be. That's what we focus on." He eyes my dad for a moment. "I'm thinking you can relate."
"Yeah," my dad says quietly, his gaze drifting to my mom. "I can relate."
Royce just nods like he expected that answer.
"What do you think, Em?" Dad asks me after a moment. "Is he worth the sacrifices you'll have to make?"
"So worth it. I love him," I whisper, the words I should have told him when we talked the morning Royce answered my phone. But I was still processing it myself. I think my dad knew it. He didn't push or pry. He just told me to follow my heart.
Turns out, doing that isn't as terrifying as I thought it would be. It's as easy as breathing.
"Good. So long as you're happy, I'm happy," Dad says after a moment before flicking a glance at Royce. "But I meant what I said when we spoke. If she doesn't have a ring on her finger before you plant your kid in her, you and I are going to have problems, Son."
"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm a motherfucker on a mission, isn't it?" Royce grins at him. "I didn't put her on a flight for the hell of it, sir. I came to ask your permission to put my ring on her finger."
"Royce," I gasp, gaping at him. "What?"
He tips my head back, meeting my gaze. "I warned you in your office that you were my future wife, babe. I wasn't joking about that." He slips his hand into his pocket, pulling out a gorgeous diamond ring. "I want this on your finger more than I want to breathe."
"Jesus," my dad mutters.
"He's just like you," Mom whispers to him.
"I'd like your permission, sir," Royce says, meeting his gaze again. "It's important to her."
My dad stares at him for a long moment before glancing at me. "What do you think, baby girl? Do you need my permission?"
"No," I whisper. "I make my own choices. But I do want your blessing."
My dad nods, grinning at me like he expected that answer. He probably does. I'm my mom's daughter. She taught me everything I know, and no one tells my mom what to do.
"You have my blessing," Dad says to Royce. "Her, her sister, and their mom are my entire world." He clears his throat, his voice rough. "So make her happy, Royce. Love her. Protect her. Cherish her for the gift she is. She deserves it."
"That's the plan," Royce whispers, tugging me into his arms. "It's the only plan that matters."
I rest my head on his chest, my eyes watery. My mom is already crying, tears rolling down her cheeks, even as she smiles.
"What do you say, pretty baby?" Royce murmurs, resting his forehead against mine. "You going to make an honest man out of me?"
"Depends," I whisper, looping my arms around his neck.
"On what? Name it," he growls, "and it's yours."
"Do I still get business time?"
His lips curve into my favorite smirk. "If you agree to marry me, babe, you get all my time."
"Deal," I whisper.
He whoops, lifting me off my feet to kiss me right there on the tarmac with my mom and dad watching. He doesn't care, though. He kisses me like we're the only two people in the world, not letting up until I'm breathless and boneless, and so damn happy I could burst.
My hand shakes as he slips the ring onto my finger.
"You're all mine," he whispers, pressing a devout kiss to the ring and then another to my lips.
"I've been yours," I remind him. "I folded my way into a future with you, remember?"
He grins, pulling me into his arms to kiss me again. "Did that game happen to mention anything about the wedding?" he whispers against my ear. "Or how long I had to wait to meet you at the end of the aisle?"
"Yes," I lie. "It said at least a year."
"Goddamn kid's game," he growls.
I bury my face in his throat, my body shaking with laughter.