Chapter 41 Rosie
The flight out to Los Angeles feels unbearable; so much longer than the dozens of times my father has sent me west for meetings or to secure a new client that we were trying to poach from a competitor.
Maybe it’s because, this time, I don’t want to leave New York. I’m not excited about the case I’m working or the opportunity.
It feels like I’ve left something behind. A piece of my tangled heart was spilled on the streets of New York City like blood. A part of me that helped unearth the authentic Rosie Prescott that I’ve spent years searching for.
I looked for her in dark clubs where I danced for strangers wearing next to nothing.
I searched for her in courtrooms where I performed like a star, defending cases and women that I believed needed justice.
And I hunted her in Connecticut, where I impulsively bought a house, hoping to stumble upon some substance that felt like “home” and instead found family.
And somewhere along the way I found love and myself. Through the most unlikely marriage of convenience that I could have never planned if I’d tried.
The moment the plane touches down, my phone buzzes to life in my hand, lighting up with missed calls, emails, and text messages from clients back east.
Dad swore most of them were stable enough for our junior associates or Dierks to handle, but that doesn’t stop them from reaching out to complain or, often, just to chat.
In the past they’ve been the closest thing to friends that I’ve had. At least, that’s how I used to feel before I found real friendship with Rhiannon, Eden, Gabriel, Natasha and Boone.
I scan the messages quickly, deleting what doesn’t need a response and forwarding to one of the junior associates what they can handle. But then, one message stops me in my tracks.
Boone: I’m coming for you. Hang tight, Rosie. This isn’t over.
Boone: I’m not done fighting for you.
Boone: I’m not finished fighting for us.
I read the messages again. Then re-read just to be sure I haven’t hallucinated. My heart starts racing faster.
I should’ve told him I was leaving town. I know that now. But Dad had barely given me enough space to think, let alone prepare for my new three-month assignment before shoving me toward the airport with the weight of his heavy expectations and those divorce papers in my briefcase.
I’d stared at them a thousand times during the flight, my stomach churning as I relived every moment from the weekend.
In the end, I buried them deep in my bag, vowing not to make any permanent decisions while my emotions were still such a mess.
Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him away. Maybe we could’ve spent the weekend together figuring things out.
He told me he loved me—blurted it out in the heat of a moment where we were supposed to be acting—and I jumped to conclusions, convinced it was just part of the game, and furious that he'd caught me off guard.
But deep down I know it wasn’t pretend. I know it wasn’t a snap decision for him to say those words. And once I pushed my insecurities out of the way, I believe, deeply, that he’s felt that way for a while now.
Because I love him too.
The terminal buzzes around me as I pull out my phone, ready to finally call him back. But before I can hit dial, his name lights up my screen.
Incoming call: Boone Tremblay.
My breath catches, and I swipe to answer, my voice shaking.
“Boone… hi.”
“Rosie.” His voice is rough, panting like he’s been running. “Fuck, you finally answered the phone.”
I press my free hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. “I did. I'm sorry I haven't been.”
“You didn’t sign the paperwork.”
The words hit me square in the chest, and I feel tears burning behind my eyes as I swipe at them clumsily. I’m walking through a bustling airport terminal, one of the largest in the world, crying for anyone to see and I don’t care.
“I… I didn’t,” I admit quietly. “Did you already give yours to Cain?”
“Fuck no,” he says without hesitation, his voice firm, almost indignant.
It makes me laugh—a choked, tear-streaked sound that feels like the first real breath I’ve taken since I walked away from him in the restaurant.
“I love you, Rosie,” he says, and this time, it’s slower like he’s savoring it.
“Dammit, I wish I hadn’t said it for the first time in that setting when we were supposed to be acting, and I wish I wasn't saying it for the second time without looking you in your eyes so you could see how serious I am about this. I know I blindsided you, and I’m so sorry for that.
But the script they wanted me to stick to…
it was a lie. When it came time to execute on it, I couldn’t do it.
It felt like vomiting trying to say something I knew wasn’t true. ”
I stop walking, my hand gripping the strap of my bag as his words sink in. I can feel the emotions I’ve been holding back rise to the surface, but for the first time, they don’t terrify me.
“Boone…” My voice cracks, and I hear him suck in a sharp breath, like he’s bracing for whatever comes next.
“I know," he responds, "I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”
“I do. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have told the PR team to move forward with that approach for our breakup.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered what they’d chosen, I would have hated it because I never wanted us to divorce.”
I laugh softly.
“So does that mean you forgive me?” he presses.
“I do. I just… I think I needed to hear you say those words again, outside of that context.”
“What words?” I can hear the playfulness return to his voice.
“You know which ones.”
“Baby, I’ll say it to you every day for the rest of your life if that’s what you want.
Rosie Anne Prescott, I’m in love with you.
Don’t divorce me. Hold on for me. I’ve got a game in the city tonight that I have to be at, but after that, I’m on the first flight out to Los Angeles to see you and tell you to your face that I love you and always will love you. I’m yours and you’re mine.”
Tears spill down my cheeks as I stand on the curb at LAX, trying to wave down a cab to take me to the hotel that my admin booked for my three months stay.
“Boone, you can’t do that. Don’t you have practice this week?”
“I told Coach I needed to skip it. I’m taking you to Canada this weekend, just like we planned. I haven’t had a vacation in over a year, and I want you to meet my mom.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. I’m serious. So, clear your schedule. I’ll get you back to Los Angeles by Monday morning, but this weekend you’re mine. We’re going to figure this out because this marriage isn't ending. Ever. I love you, Rosie.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I want to say the words back, but I refuse to without seeing his face.
“I’ll see you soon, baby,” he says softly.
“Okay,” I reply, my voice steadier now. And for the first time in months, I believe it really will all be okay.
◆◆◆
Two days later, I’m gliding cautiously on the surface of the frozen pond on Boone’s family property in Canada, wobbling on the new skates he had shipped to his mom’s house for our weekend getaway.
“Okay, let’s try this again,” Boone calls, his voice playful as he skates backward making smooth circles around me.
I’m not sure what it is about seeing Boone in skates but it’s probably the hottest version of him to me. I also might have blurted that out to him thirty minutes ago which is why he quickly rushed us through dinner and out the door to go skating.
“Except this time, I don’t fall and almost crack a hip ending my career, and you don’t go chasing after me if I do,” he jokes.
I smirk, watching him as he continues to circle me. “What if I’m never as good as you are at skating?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Well, that’ll be a problem for our future kids.”
My cheeks pink up at that.
The past twenty-four hours have been surreal—every room in the cabin we’ve been sleeping in has been christened with whispered promises and slow, heated apologies in the form of us making love.
If I thought things between Boone and I were passionate before, stripping away the hiding and secrets has only made everything better.
And now, after meeting his mama—a warm, kind woman who welcomed me with open arms despite the strange start to our marriage—it feels like we’ve found solid ground again.
“Why do I feel like I’m being circled by a pack of hyenas?” I tease, gaining confidence in my stride with each brush of the blades.
“Probably because their intentions are to ravage their prey.” His grin turns devilish. “And that’s mine, too.”
I arch a brow, picking up speed as I try to skate around him, dodging a few bumps and roots frozen into the ice.
“Not in this weather, it’s not. You might’ve been born and raised for the tundra, but I’m cold and wearing ten layers of clothing. There's no way that you're getting your dick inside me out here.”
I gesture to my thick parka, the oversized hat that’s covering my head, gloves, and the fleece sweatpants Boone lent me, which are tied at the waist with a hair tie because they’re so comically large.
He chuckles, gliding closer.
Unlike me, he’s only wearing a long-sleeved Henley and a beanie, like the freezing temperatures don’t even faze him. “You’re adorable if you think I wouldn't find a way to fuck you in the ice, or the snow.”
His hands settle on my hips, and we skate together in a clumsy kind of rhythm that probably looks ridiculous. Lucky for us we’re completely alone. I let him guide me, his steady presence at my back as we make a slow lap around the pond.
“You never told me what you’re going to do,” I say, leaning into his warmth and letting him hold me.
“Hm?” His nose brushes the back of my neck before I feel him take a soft inhale.
“About the Mayhem’s offer. Three more years on your contract is incredible.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his hands tightening slightly on my waist. “What do you think I should do?”
I don’t have to think for long. “Whatever your heart tells you. If your passion is still with hockey, you should go for it.”
He exhales slowly, his breath warm against my cheek. “You’re my heart, Rosie. You know that, right?”
I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze. “I know.”
I really do.
“We can do both, you know. You don’t have to give up your dreams for love,” I respond with a smile.
“Ain’t that the truth, newest senior partner at her daddy’s law firm.”
I grin as Boone spins me around, his hands steady on my waist while he guides me across the ice. I let him push me, trusting him completely.
“I wish I’d been there for the celebration.”
“I think we’ve celebrated enough this weekend, don’t you?”
He drops his lips to mine and kisses me softly. “I’ll never tire of celebrating you, Rosie.” And then he continues guiding me around the pond.
My gaze drifts to the rolling fields surrounding us, blanketed in snow and framed by the tall pines dusted with white. It feels magical out here. It’s different from skating on the lake in Brookhaven but no less enchanting to me.
Boone’s family property is a true winter wonderland, even in early March. His mom’s house sits off in the distance, smoke curling from the chimney of the fire that we’d lit before heading out here.
“I love it here,” I murmur, my voice soft but sincere.
“I’m glad you do,” he replies, slowing us to a stop in the middle of the frozen pond. His eyes meet mine, warm and full of affection. “I love you, Rosie.”
“I love you too.”
I tilt my face upward, and when his lips find mine, the kiss is slow, deep, and filled with so much passion it leaves me breathless. His hand tangles in my hair, tipping my head back just enough to deepen the kiss, as if he can’t get enough.
When we finally part, I’m still catching my breath as his expression shifts to something even more serious. There’s longing, resolve, and maybe just a hint of nerves before he drops to one knee right on the ice.
“Boone…” I gasp. My voice falters, my heart racing as I watch him pull a small leather box from his pocket. His free hand grasps mine.
“Rosie,” he begins, his voice steady. “Our love started in the most unconventional way, in a dark club where you rocked my world. I think I fell in love with a stripper that night, just like T-Pain says.”
I laugh despite myself, covering my face with my hands. “No, you didn’t fall in love with me that night.”
“I sure as hell did,” he counters with a crooked grin.
“And then it got even more unconventional when we were forced to marry each other. But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Nothing about us is conventional, and nothing about our love will ever be normal.
And I don’t want it to be. So, with that said,” he continues, opening the box but not revealing the ring just yet, “will you stay married to me? Let me date you for real this time, through an actual engagement period. Let’s say the vows we didn’t get to say before, the ones we both deserve to hear.
Will you commit to a lifetime with me? Because I’m committed to you. Forever.”
Tears blur my vision as I nod, dropping to my knees and pulling him toward me before wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his lips.
“Yes, I will. I love you, Boone.”
His smile is brighter than I’ve ever seen it as he turns the box toward me, revealing a ring that feels so much more me than the one my father picked out.
The sight of it makes my heart swell. With care, he slips off my gloves before sliding it onto my finger and taps it lightly, his touch sending a thrill through me.
“That looks much better,” he says softly.
My eyes catch on his own ring, the one he bought for himself when we first got married. He’s still wearing it.
I brush my fingers over it gently. “So, you really never took it off?”
“Baby,” he says, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m never taking this thing off. Smells like you. Reminds me of you. You’re stuck with me now.”
And I know without a doubt that’s exactly where I want to be.