Rosemary’s Epilogue
Rosemary's Epilogue
THE LAST HOME GAME OF THE REGULAR SEASON
Nicholas Cartwright is still my catnip.
I watch as he skates down the boards, calling for the puck. He looks absolutely edible in scarlet and gold, and he’s been on a hot streak ever since he, Marcus, and Shiloh started “gelling” on the ice.
Apparently this means that they’ve developed a second sense about where one another is on the ice at all times.
I’ve had no-look passes, drop passes, and every other kind of pass explained to me twice over by Eva, Marcus’s adoring hockey player girlfriend, but as I understand it, she could’ve gone pro herself.
I watch the little black disc skid around the ice. Across the middle, into the offensive zone—bonus points to me for remembering!—and try to understand the cycling thing they do before Nick winds up and whacks that puck past the goalie and into the net.
We’re out of our seats in a second, hugging each other just as the guys do down on the ice.
“Oh my god! That’s his 100th career goal!” I scream it from the box, whooping loudly. “One hundy, baby!”
“Nice one, Cartsy!” Eva cheers, and the other WAGs around us lift their drinks in celebration.
Then, Nick fist bumps everyone on the bench before scooting in and taking a seat. His hands clutch his stick as his gaze flies through the crowd. When he finds me, the sly, slow grin he shoots me already has my insides turning to mush.
“Good lord,” Eva whispers, fanning herself. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” I say. But her face tells me she doesn’t buy it for a second, so I cast a glance around to make sure I won’t be overheard. “I may have incentivized him to try to get this milestone done this year.”
She snorts. “You mean the contract extension he was offered wasn’t motivation enough to keep performing?”
“Oh, no. That was icing on the cake.” I uncap my bottle and drink deep. “But I’m the cream on the cake.”
Eva laughs and shakes her head. “Forget I asked. I don’t need to know that.”
“It’s not what you think,” I say, laughing.
“I mean I agreed to spend the summer in Toronto with him if he got his 100th goal. He was already going to go to spend time with his mom and sister, but since I retired from professional eSports, he’s been helping me figure out what I should do next. Something other than streaming.”
“Yeah? What’s next then?”
“I’m going to use the winnings I earned from my last championship win to help other people set up their streams. Not just any gamer, but ones who are like his sister.
The ones who need a little extra help by supplying adaptive equipment and gear.
So many people get joy from games, and while it sometimes can be toxic terrain, it can also bring a lot of people together. ”
“That sounds really good. We do something similar at the rink, trying to help kids with mobility challenges still get out on the ice. Our very own Mackenzie Tate, Director of Player Transitions, heads it up. You should do it. It could bring a world of good.”
“Yeah, I think so, too. I’ll talk to Lainey about it more when I see her. But gaming is what brought her to me, and me to Nick, so clearly, fun and games can bring people together.”
She munches on a nacho and shoots me a sideways look. “I thought you were brought together because you dialed the wrong number.”
“That’s true, too,” I laugh, then slip out of my seat when the final buzzer sounds. After a pit stop in the bathroom, I wait for Nick to get through post-game interviews and we show our faces at the end-of-season team drinks before we can make our excuses and head home.
Not two seconds in, I’m ready to pounce and play, and show off the thing I actually incentivized him with. But before I can shed my clothes and drop to all fours, Nick coaxes me onto his lap with my back facing him. I feel his fingers close over the collar, and I yelp in protest.
“What are you doing?” Alarm has me sitting stick-straight, and my fingers fly to stop his from removing it. I’ve gotten so used to it around my neck, a constant reminder of how loved I am.
“I got you something else you can wear.”
“But I’ve already got a tail,” I say, rubbing the curve of my ass against the rapidly thickening ridge of his dress pants. “And I’ve got a leash, which I don’t like very much.”
“I know, kitten, but I think you’ll like this one. It’s shiny.” His chin drops to the curve of my shoulder, and he holds up a small, black velvet box.
I gasp when he flips it open, and a stunning pale pink teardrop-shaped diamond greets me.
“Marry me, Ro. You already survived the eighty-two game grind with me. Why not go the distance? Be my queen, my kitten, and the ever-playful badass by my side. And I will give you all of me. All my love. Every single day of my life.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife, your queen, your kitten.
” I say, spinning around to seal my mouth to his.
I kiss him fervently, shifting in his lap as he skillfully disrobes me until I’m in nothing but a strappy black number with a super-soft sable brown tail swishing between my cheeks.
And when he unzips his pants and slides into me in long, languishing strokes that makes me gasp, arch, ache, I wind up seeing more than stars.
I see our whole, blinding-bright future ahead of us.
Thank you so much for reading Nick and Rosemary's love story.
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If you enjoyed this one, you might like to read up on how one of Rosemary's sister Sage winds up falling in love with Griffin, her older, off-limits next door neighbor in my instalove romance novella, NO SHELF CONTROL.