So with a grin on my face, my head dizzy from the hit of love he just gave me, I whisper, “By the way, I love you too. So very much more.”

“Just want I wanted to hear,” he says with a wink.

“Glad I could please, but Jude, you’ll need to get ready,” I say, my eyes dancing with mischief.

“For?” he asks, his eyes darkening with lust.

“Not that!” I say, and he grins as he lifts me off my feet, kissing my lips. “Okay, maybe some of that, but for real, get ready for our life together.”

Holding me close, his eyes bore into mine, and all I see is his love for me. I don’t know how we made it those two weeks without each other, but I know we will never be apart like that again.

Kissing my nose, he says, “It’s going to be amazing.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Seven months later…

My whole body is shaking, my heart is louder than the crack of a puck on a hockey stick, and I still can’t believe this is happening. This is my future. With my fingers laced tightly with Claire’s, I glance over at her, thankful that she flew to Boston for the draft. I was worried she wouldn’t able to make it, but she promised she would, and when I woke up this morning to her pounding on the door, I could have smothered her with kisses I was so happy to see her.

These past months have been unbelievably amazing. Claire moved out to Vegas early, after Christmas, and when I say we Skype more than anybody on the planet, I’m not kidding. It’s constant. I sometimes just watch her tell people what to do and train dancers. We even sleep with Skype on, just so that if one of us wakes up, the other is there. I miss her constantly, but I’m thankful she has the weekends off and flies home to be with me. It’s a lot on her, but she’s doing the job beautifully and our love has never been stronger. Diamond Burlesque Revue opens in three weeks, and the buzz about the club is awesome. Claire is excited, which makes me excited, and with the club opening, I really didn’t think she would be able to come, but she made it happen.

She is here for me.

When my mom squeezes my hand, I glance over at her and smile. She’s a different person now, and I believe that my dad held her back. She went back to teaching, and I’ve never seen her so happy. My dad, who we now refer to as the dickhead, is holding off the divorce so he can avoid paying her alimony. It’s a fucking headache, but one day she will be free of him. At first it was hard, though; she was extremely broke, and we thought we were going to lose the house, even with all of us working to help out. But then out of nowhere someone paid the house off, taking a huge financial burden off my mother since my dad left her with no money. To this day, my mom still tries to pay Claire back, but she won’t take it. I think I fell in love with her all over again when I found out the check was from her. She told me it wasn’t a big deal, but I think it was. I think it was extremely gracious of her.

She constantly amazes me.

Letting go of my mother’s gaze, I look down at where everything is set up for the draft. All thirty teams are prepared. Their coaches, GMs, owners, everyone is down there deciding my fate. The first team is on their fifteen-minute time limit. I’m nervous and hoping I go first, but I don’t know if I will. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m nervous as shit, but then I feel Claire’s lips against my neck and a sense of calm washes over me.

“You are going to be fine,” she whispers in my ear, and I nod.

“Thanks,” I say and she smiles, kissing me again. “What if I don’t get picked first?” I whisper in her ear.

She shrugs. “Then you’ll get picked second.”

I give her a look, and she smiles. “No matter what, I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you.”

I look back down to where the Los Angeles Kings are making their choice. They weren’t supposed to go first, but they traded one of the top-scoring, senior forwards for the first-round pick. They love me from what my agent says, but they could pass me up for anyone, and that scares me. Did I not impress? I mean, I had a great season, we won the championship, and I know I’m the best, but am I good enough for first round?

“Stop shaking,” she teases, and I send her a grin.

“I’m freaking out,” I admit, and she shakes her head.

“You’ll be–” she starts but then the announcer interrupts her.

“The Los Angeles Kings have made their pick.” I squeeze her and Mom’s hand as the announcer leans to the mic. “The Los Angeles Kings’ first-round pick is Jude Sinclair of the University of Bellevue.”

Holy fuck.

Jumping up, Claire cries out, pulling me up into her arms. Kissing me hard on the lips, her excitement is intoxicating and knocks me out of my paralyzing shock. Kissing her back, I say, “I love you.”

“I love you!” she cries, her face flooded with tears. “I told you!”

“Yeah, you did,” I say with a nod.

“Didn’t I say I was always right?”

No way in hell am I going to agree with her, but I am going to kiss her because this moment marks the start of our future together. And what better way to start it than with a kiss from the most amazing girl in the world?

They always say that love is a fantasy, but with this girl, it’s a reality.

I’ve tried so hard not to hate Claire’s boyfriend, but it’s getting harder by the second. I know I talked him into giving her another chance, but that was mainly for Claire, and now I regret that more than anything. Standing in the face-off circle with the smug little bastard who has already scored on us tonight, I glare, waiting for the puck to drop.

“You know you want to let me marry her.”

“Fuck off, Sinclair,” I sneer as the ref pushes me back, but Jude keeps on grinning.

“I’ll take care of her, Phillip. Just say yes,” he says and I swear I am going to beat the fuck out of this kid.

“Shut up,” I say again, and he just keeps grinning. When the puck drops, he somehow beats me to it, making me feeling like a fucking grandpa, and passes it back to his defensemen as he flies past me.

Fast little shit. He’s gotten bigger too.

I rush to catch up with him, but thankfully Adler is there, stopping Jude from getting past him.

Or so I think.

Somehow the little asshole dekes around him as the puck comes up, and the next thing you know, Odder is sprawled out on the ice and the puck is in the back of the net. He throws his arms up, and I glare as he hugs his teammates. I turn, heading to the bench, and I’m almost there when he skates up beside me. When he starts to sing to me about being rude, I can only glare at him because I’ve heard that song on the radio, and it’s not the song I want my niece’s boyfriend singing to me! And also, what fucking respectable hockey player sings on the ice?