He sighed and opened the spreadsheet app on his phone, where he’d tracked significant upcoming dates, Max’s right-hand ring size, half-baked ideas, and suggestions from the internet. He wished romance came more naturally to him, or that he could feel satisfied with a cliché nice dinner out. He couldn’t even really do a walk on the beach. They lived in California. They did holidays in Florida. Max had the actual fucking ocean in his backyard. Sure, it had a rock-slab shore, but a beach proposal still seemed kind of ordinary.
By noon Grady had thought about it so much he felt like his head might explode. He’d put in all this work, it seemed like, but he hadn’t made any progress toward his goal. He was no closer to marrying Max now than he had been when he made the decision. If he didn’t tellsomeone, he was going to go downstairs and ask Max to marry him while stinking of stale sweat and vomit. He might fall over afterward. Or during.
Instead he texted Jess—quickly, because he’d already spent too much time on the spreadsheet, and looking at the screen made the nausea worse.I’m going to ask Max to marry me.There. Matter-of-fact. Inviting no comment or criticism. And now he’d told her. That felt like at least one small step.
His phone chirped thirty seconds later.Good.
Well. Thanks for the support, Jess.
An hour later the world stilled enough for Grady to get out of bed and lie on the couch instead. Now he knew what Max had felt like during his post-Cup hangover. Well, sort of. Max probably had a feeling of elation under all the regret and self-disgust, while Grady just felt kind of pathetic for finding himself thinking he’d never fit into Max’s East Coast life.
Which was stupid, because despite living on the water, Max didn’t even own a boat. What self-respecting hockey player had waterfront property and no boat?
Grady made a mental note to chirp Max about that later. Then he fell asleep on the couch with his head in Max’s lap and Max’s hands in his hair.
When he woke up Max was watchingPride & Prejudiceagain.
“You have a problem,” Grady mumbled, but he didn’t actually mind. Maybe he’d learn something.
“What, just one?” Max poked him in the chest. “You’re getting soft.”
Grady didn’t have a comeback for that. “You like it.”
Pride & Prejudicedid not offer any helpful inspiration. Grady doubted there’d be a fancy ball around here anytime soon. The closest thing would be the Cup parade and party. Besides, Grady wasn’t going to be like what’s-his-face, the horrible awkward cousin.
It rained a lot on the East Coast, though. Surely there was a gazebo around Moncton somewhere. They could go and conveniently get wet.
But that proposal didn’t go well for Mr. Darcy. Grady didn’t want to need a do-over. That shit was embarrassing. Get yourself together, Mr. Darcy.
Oh, what about a picnic, though? Picnics were romantic. Max liked food. Grady could order some of those maple butter blondie things. They didn’t even have to go anywhere. Max’s property had plenty of gorgeous spots to choose from, and there was still one day left before the Cup party and the subsequent return to training.
That afternoon, when Grady could stand up straight again, he went into town for supplies.
So of course the next day dawned cloudy and then erupted into a torrential downpour just before noon. Grady stared forlornly at the nicely packed picnic basket, the checkered blanket folded neatly beneath it, and then at the weather radar, which indicated it might be time for Max to reconsider not owning a boat.
Was it too early in the day to start drinking?
The back door opened and admitted Max, dripping wet from his walk with Gru. “Well, your belated welcome to New Brunswick has arrived.” Gru trotted in after him, his wet fur having been somewhat toweled into submission in the sun porch. The two of them made quite the bedraggled pair.
Grady froze, because it was one thing to be caught in the middle of a romantic gesture and quite another one to be caught in the middle of one that had been rained out.
Also, Grady could see Max’s nipple piercings because his shirt was clinging to him with the rain.
Weirdly, Max said nothing about the staring. His mouth was quirked up on one side as he eyed the picnic basket, like there was a chirp on the tip of his tongue but he was holding it in for the sake of Grady’s feelings. After a moment he cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m gonna go… put on dry clothes. Be right back.”
Definitely weird, Grady thought, but he didn’t have a chance to dwell on it, because Gru pressed his wet body against Grady’s legs in a demand for attention.
“Gross, bud.” Grady rubbed behind his ears anyway. “Your dad okay?”
Gru sneezed on his leg. Grady took that for a yes.
MAX HADN’Tknown what to think when he walked in and found Grady in the middle of what was obviously a frustrated romantic overture.
First the fishing trip and now an attempted picnic? From a man who hated dates? There were only a few possible options here. Either Grady was dying, he’d done something horrible, or he had the same life plans as Max.
Too bad it was clearly going to piss rain all day. If Grady popped the question, Max wouldn’t have to.
He paused in the act of pulling on a pair of sweatpants.
