Page 133 of Proposal Play
The summer. When this arrangement between Asher and me ends. When we return to our regularly scheduled lives.
That thought weighs on me as I post the photo on my social, but then I furrow my brow at my profile. “Um, do I have a bunch of new followers?”
Leighton stares at the number on my phone. “Do you?”
“I do,” I say, and it’s weird and wonderful at the same time. “It’s not entirely earned, is it? They’re not really here for me. They’re here because I’m…Mrs. Callahan.”
Leighton nods a few times, her expression thoughtful. “The world isn’t fair, Maeve. People don’t always get what they deserve. But, don’t you forget—Maeve Hartley got the Sea Dogs mural gig before she became Mrs. Callahan.”
“Love you,” I say, then I smile thoughtfully. “And I’ve only known you for a few months. How did that happen?”
“I’m easy to love,” she says.
“You are. You’re like a dog.”
“High praise.” She throws her arms around me and then takes off to join her friends.
Feeling contemplative, I look at my phone again and the picture I just posted. I don’t deserve all this attention, but I’m getting it anyway. Including from Eleanor, who’s already liked the new snap.
Well, at least the kiss is real.
The other real thing? The way my heart scampers a few minutes later after Leighton meets her friends and two familiar men come down the aisle toward me. The tall, strapping one with the roguish good looks and burly charm is John, and the lankier, wiry one is Carlos.
When they reach me, I’m up on my feet since it’s so good to see them. “It’s been too long,” I say, meaning it.
“I know, girl. I know,” Carlos says then wraps me in a hug.
“Especially now that you’re family,” John says, giving me a hug too.
Yes, they’re in on the deal. But there’s no “wink and a nod” infamilyat all. They say it like they mean it, and my throat hitches. That’s an inconvenient reaction—this surplus of feelings.
Letting go of John, I try to tamp down the emotion, giving them both a smile as the three of us sit. “And family goes to hockey together,” I say. Wow, that did not help me feel any less.
“Of course they do. Our first date was a hockey game,” Carlos says, looking at his husband with affection.
“Shut up,” I say, my jaw dropping.
John nods, big and proud. “What can I say? I was confident. I wanted to impress him, so I shelled out for tickets.”
“It was a minor league game,” Carlos points out, laughing.
“But you were still impressed,” John insists, his gaze drifting down to his husband’s gold band.
“Fine, fine. You got me there.” Carlos gestures to the ice, where Asher’s lobbing easy shots on goal as the warm-up winds down. His tone shifts from teasing to genuine as he adds, “And hockey was somehow meant to be for us when we decided to have a family.”
“The universe had a plan when the adoption agency found us a son,” John says, heartfelt too, and…dammit.
My throat constricts. All this talk ofmeant to beis making my eyes a little watery too.No, not a little.A lot.
I swallow, trying to stave off this waterfall. The last time I felt this way was when their son slid a ruby ring on my finger, and said it wasmeant to be.
The way I’ve felt about our friendship for so many years.
The way I always want to feel about it.
But the dreams of romance are getting harder to ignore when Asher’s always a step ahead of me, cooking for me, caring for me, looking out for me. Most of all, lifting me up, supporting me, and knowing what I need maybe before I know it myself.
“Your son’s amazing,” I blurt out to the two men who raised him.