This is somewhat true. Alex has thrown out a bunch of dates, all in the off-season and complete with available venues. My issue is that I want to keep it small, and our mothers want the entire world to be there.

Every venue Alex has suggested has capacity for more than two hundred guests. I’d like it to be our immediate friends and family. That way, if I do something dumb, which is likely, there will be fewer witnesses.

Sunny’s face falls. “Oh.”

“It has to be off-season, of course. I think maybe next summer would be better instead of this summer. More time to plan, you know?” I say, hoping I don’t sound as high-pitched to her as I do to me.

“Yeah. Of course.” She gives me a small smile.

“We’ll figure it out soon.”

It’s not that I don’t want to marry Alex. I do. I can’t imagine my life without him. He’s sweet, romantic, alpha at all the right times, intelligent, gorgeous, and so amazing in bed. He’s everything I could ever want. So why can’t I settle on a date and let this happen? It’s anxiety related.

We had an engagement party several months ago, before the hockey season started. I ended up with the worst case of hives ever. I took so much antihistamine I was high for two days.

After that Alex backed off, but our mothers were still all over me about it during the holidays, and I ended up with hives again. Alex has skirted the conversation since then; he’s likely giving me a reprieve.

I know he’s going to bring it up again soon, though, and I’m going to have to gently argue my case for next summer instead of this summer. When he proposed, he said we could have a long engagement. I don’t think two years is unreasonable. It gives us adequate planning time.

Alex can be particular. He’s going to want his hand in all the pies. Well, his hand only ever goes in my pie, but he’ll be hands-on about this, I know. That’s how he was with the engagement party. And he’s going to want it to be perfect. Only the best of everything.

I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t end up riding in on a white horse, wearing a suit of armor like he’s straight out of a fairytale. He’s that romantic. Sometimes I feel like the guy in this relationship. Like, after sex, he always wants to cuddle for at least fifteen minutes. Sometimes I zonk out on him while he’s talking.

The buzzer sounds, drawing my attention to the rink, and the guys take the ice with Alex facing off at center. I love watching him play. My beaver gets so drooly. And we have the best sex after games, win or lose. He’s needier when they lose and more aggressive when they win. I like it both ways. I like it all ways, actually.

Alex gains control of the puck and skates toward the goalie. He passes to Darren, who easily avoids the opposition’s defense. Alex and Darren have been playing together for years, so they know each other’s moves. They should be predictable to their opponents by now, too, but they strategize every week, devising ways to throw off the other team and shake things up.

Darren doesn’t pass to Alex right away; he plays the puck, shifting to Lance, who checks a Toronto player into the boards as he shoots the puck back to Alex. I recognize the name on the back of his jersey. It’s Cockburn, the guy Alex got into a fight with last year. He was ejected from the game, and we had hot sex in the locker room.

Alex is in front of the net now, but his shot hits the post, and the goalie captures it, taking it out of play.

He gives his head a furious shake when Darren comes around to pat his shoulder. He’s disappointed. I’m sure he was hoping for a quick goal to boost team morale.

The game resumes, but the first half of the period remains goal free, with several close misses for Chicago. Then Toronto scores with four minutes left in the period.

Alex isn’t happy. He runs an aggressive hand through his hair while he and Darren close-talk. They’re shoulder to shoulder, and Darren’s calm and level while Alex isn’t. My man can get agitated when he feels he’s not performing well enough. He hates letting people down.

I’m so busy watching Alex and Darren, I totally miss what’s happening on the ice until Lily jumps out of her seat.

She slams her fists against the plexiglas barrier. “Hell yes, babe! That’s my man!”

I check out the scene: Randy’s grinning widely and getting back pats, and the score’s been tied. I clap and cheer, keeping an eye on Alex. He’s been struggling lately with Randy’s place on the team.

Alex says he’s captain material. Alex might be more graceful, but he has to work a lot harder to keep up than he used to. And it’s easy to talk about what he wants to do when he’s done playing, but the reality is a lot tougher to take. He’s getting loads of endorsements, and has a few more years with Chicago, but after that, well, there’s never a guarantee they’ll renew, or that he’ll have many more seasons on the ice.

I think that’s part of the reason he’s pushing so hard for a wedding. He wants something to look forward to. He wants security and to feel settled because his hockey trajectory is changing. That’s the difficult thing about hockey; it’s a short career—hard on the body and the ego.

Alex pats Randy on the shoulder when they pass each other. Randy’s smile is huge, as is Lily’s when she turns to say something to Sunny.

The goal is great for Chicago, helping carry them through until the end of the second period. Unfortunately, Toronto manages another goal while Alex is on the ice at the beginning of the third, tying the game again.