Page 197 of Only Ever You

He gives me a soft smile. “The care you have for Meg means more than you know.”

“Of course. She’s like my little sister.” I smile at my husband, admiring how handsome he is. His hair is a bit shorter than he’s worn it for the last decade or so, and his cheeks are covered in stubble. He’s bulkier than he was even a year ago, thanks to his dedication to hockey. The man is hella hot, and he’s mine.

“Or like a daughter.” He wiggles his brows.

I swat him in the chest and step back. “Have you forgotten we’re only six years older than Ian and Meg?”

He yanks me back into him and hugs me tighter. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” Brow furrowed, I examine his face, looking for clues.

“I want kids,” he admits, his voice getting lower. “I want a little Isla, or a little Michael. It doesn’t really matter. I just want kids with you.”

My heart leaps and my breath stutters. I never would’ve imagined having this conversation on a sidewalk on the Upper West Side, but it feels kind of fitting for us.

“I want kids too,” I whisper.

Eyes glimmering, he presses his forehead against mine. “You just made me the happiest guy in the world.” When his lips are an inch from mine, he says, “I can’t wait to start trying. Filling you up until you’re pregnant will be my favorite pastime, I’m sure.”

“You’re impossible, Pretty Boy,” I tell him. “You’re⁠—”

He shuts me up with a kiss, holding me hard against his chest, and honestly? I’m not mad about it at all.

I can’t wait to start trying too.

MICHAEL

Twenty-five years old

Sitting on the roof outside the window of my childhood bedroom is nostalgic, but my companion today isn’t the one I’m used to.

“When my agent called two weeks ago, I thought he was joking. I had a fucking amazing season. In my mind, there was no way the Vipers would want to get rid of me.” Asher lifts the beer bottle to his lips, but instead of taking a sip, he lowers it and focuses on me. “Three guys for a rookie.”

“Green was the first draft pick.” I bring my own beer to my lips.

He roughs a hand down his clean-shaven face. “You’re not helping, Thompson.”

“Sorry, sorry.” I sigh and put the bottle down. “I know you loved playing for the Vipers. And I get it. You won the Stanley Cup with them. But it’s hockey, man. We can be traded at any time. None of us are safe.”

“I know.” The words come out rough.

“You won the Cup with the Vipers, I won the Cup with the Phantoms, and now, since the two of us will be playing together, we can win the Cup as a team. Together. That’s gotta mean something.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna bring that up.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s the only reason I didn’t completely lose it when I found out. Though I always imagined it would be you joining me, not the other way around. Apparently, life had other plans.” He lets out a long breath and rakes his fingers into his hair. “And now, I’m a Phantom. Lovely.”

“So many exciting things are coming. We’ll find you a place near ours.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Man, you’re gonna love it.”

“I already hate it.” He groans. “It’s like we’ve been the victims of a body swap or something. Because why the fuck am I so gloomy and you’re so cheerful? It used to be the opposite.”

“Things change. People change too.”

Ash tips his head to his shoulder, assessing me in silence. Then, a smile curves his lips. “Or love really is magic. It really can turn even the grumpiest of grumps like you into sunshiny golden retrievers.”

Head thrown back, I laugh. “I’m not going to argue with you about the love part, but I’m not a fucking golden retriever.”

“You definitely aren’t,” Isla says, appearing on the other side of the window. “Hi, Ash.”

“Sweet Isla,” he murmurs. “I was wondering where you were.”