Page 60 of Puck & Make Up

Something Fox clearly knows.

He sets the box down and crosses over to me, his eyes dancing at what must be a shocked expression on my face.

“You knew what my answer was going to be?”

His beard twitches as he smiles. “Yeah, sugar lips, I knew.” One broad shoulder lifts then drops. “It was my TV that put it over the edge for you, wasn’t it?”

“Damn straight it was.” I giggle then step into his arms, press my front to his. “I love you.”

Gentle eyes. A tight embrace. A soft hand cupping my jaw. “You’re my heart,” he says simply in return.

My own heart rolls over in my chest, exposed and vulnerable and…

Completely safe.

It’s why I can lift on tiptoe, press my lips to his, and know that the future may occasionally be messy and decidedly not bump-free, that he’s likely always going to push my buttons, and that we will definitely fight over stupid things, but what we have together is…

Real.

It’s not that my picker was broken…

I just needed a certain stubborn hockey player to realign it.

He pulls back, steals my keys, and begins loading the boxes into my car.

“Fox?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“It was the TV.”

His mouth twitches.

“But it was also everything you are and everything that we’re going to be together.”

The box in his hands hits the pavement.

“Damn, baby,” he rasps.

“I hope that wasn’t breakable,” I say lightly.

“I’ll replace it.”

“I can be bribed with chocolate chip cook—ack!”

One second, I’m on my feet.

The next, I’m in the air, being tossed over his shoulder as he hightails it to the stairs and starts carrying me up them.

“Fox!” I squeak. “What are you doing?”

A swat to my ass. “You.” A beat. “And then I’m making you cookies.”

Laughter in the air.

Love in my heart.

And the last thing I see before the door to my apartment swings shut is my uncle scooping up the box from the pavement and shoving it into the back of my car.