ログインWedding planning turned into its own special kind of chaos, complete with color palettes, venue tours, flower arrangements, and a guest list that seemed to grow every time Dean remembered someone else who absolutely had to be there. One evening, he spread invitation samples across the kitchen table while I compared flower arrangements on my laptop, his expression suddenly more serious than the occasion seemed to require.“We need to talk about something.”“That sounds ominous.”“Mason.” He said the name carefully, watching my face. “I want to invite him. I know that might be complicated for you, considering everything, and I wanted to ask instead of assuming.”I closed the laptop and let myself think before answering. Mason had earned his way back into Dean’s life, and, if I was being honest, into mine too. He had helped bring our families together. He had stood up for me when Sophie slapped me. The man he was now wasn’t the same man he had been before, even if the history between us
Dean had been impossible for four days.He answered my texts with the bare minimum, ignored my calls, and when I finally got a response, it was usually a single, distracted word that said nothing. By Saturday afternoon, I had moved past concern and landed somewhere far less charitable. So when he texted to ask me to dinner, I climbed into his car already annoyed, folding my arms as I settled into the passenger seat.“You’ve been impossible all week.”“I know.”I turned toward him. “That’s all you have to say?”“I promise I’ll explain everything tonight.” He glanced over, and something bright and uneasy moved behind his eyes, an expression that didn’t belong on the face of the man who usually had an answer for everything. “Please trust me a little longer.”“I’m trusting you under protest.”“Noted.”He drove without telling me where we were going. I considered asking several times, but the look on his face suggested I would only get another vague answer, and I was already irritated enou
A year ago, I did everything I could to keep my life from falling apart without making the people I loved suffer. Now I had a career I was proud of, friends who were building lives of their own, and a boyfriend who had somehow made room for hockey and art in a world that had spent years insisting he had to choose.Every now and then, the distance between then and now still surprised me.The biggest change was Dean’s Hockey and Art Academy, which had opened that spring. I loved stopping by after work, especially on afternoons when the younger kids moved between the ice and the art rooms with helmets tucked under their arms and paint on their fingers. Dean had hired coaches to handle most of the hockey instruction, but he still taught painting whenever he could.I had watched him sit beside a child struggling with a drawing and patiently show them how to try again. He never made mistakes seem like proof that someone did not belong. He treated them as part of learning, something Dean him
Dean woke me the next morning with coffee already brewing in the kitchen. I blinked up at him from the bed and found him sitting on the edge of the mattress, fully dressed and looking far too pleased with himself.“You let me sleep in,” I said, pushing myself upright.“I made breakfast. You have time.”I checked the clock and, annoyingly, found he was right. A few minutes later, I followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen, where eggs and toast waited on two plates. Beside my coffee sat my usual hot chocolate.“You’re spoiling me.”“I’m aware.” He caught me around the waist and kissed me before I could say anything else. “I could get used to this, you know. Waking up together, making breakfast, arguing over who gets the bathroom first. All the thrilling parts of domestic life.”I gave him a suspicious look. “You mean you want me to move in.”“Fully, yes. Imagine it. My girlfriend actually living with me instead of going home all the time and leaving me to miss her.”“Your girlfrien
Dean found me exactly where I had told him I would be, my car’s hazard lights flashing against the darkening road. Within minutes, he had me settled in the passenger seat of his car, while my own vehicle was left in the capable hands of a tow truck he had arranged before I had even finished explaining what happened. “You didn’t have to do all that,” I said as I fastened my seat belt. “I wanted to.” He glanced over at me, his expression calm but unmistakably pleased with himself. “Besides, I have somewhere to take you first. Don’t argue.” “I’m exhausted, Dean.” “You’re about to be exhausted and fed. There’s a difference.” He drove us to a small restaurant on a quiet street, its windows glowing warmly against the evening. Inside, the place was busy but not loud, filled with low conversation and the clink of silverware. Once we were settled in a corner booth, Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a small cake box. I stared at it. “Dean.” “I know it’s small.” He opened the box,
I stood outside Fielding and Marsh’s glass doors fifteen minutes early, my new badge still warm from the front desk and my nerves making it difficult to stand still. “You can do this,” I told myself, then pushed through the doors before I could change my mind.The office had the quiet energy of a place where everyone knew exactly what they were doing. It was nothing like the frantic chaos of Mercer Athletics. Still, it was busy in its own way, people moving between desks with coffee, folders, and the occasional expression of someone who had just remembered an important deadline. I was still trying to figure out where I was supposed to go when a familiar voice cut through the noise.“No way.” I turned and found Blake standing there with a stack of equipment cases balanced against one hip, grinning as though he had just been handed the best surprise of his morning. “Iris Bennett. What are you doing here?”“I work here now, apparently. What are you doing here?”“Interning. I figured I ne







