“I’m sorry too,” she says with a hoarse voice. “I shouldn’t have shut you out like that. I just… it scared me. How fast you went there. How fastIlet it happen.”
I step closer, slow, careful. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know,” she whispers.
I stop right in front of her, close enough to feel her breath. Her eyes flicker, and hell, they even soften. I like to think it’s just for me.
And somehow, the anger shifts, and from hurt, it morphs into something else entirely. We’re still mad. Still raw with emotions, but underneath it? There’s that electric chemistry we can’t deny.
I lift my hand, brushing my fingers along her jaw, and when she doesn’t pull away, I know we’ll get past this.
“I’ll fuck up again,” I admit, voice rough. “I don’t always know where the line is with you.”
“I don’t either.”
And then, she leans in. I meet her halfway. And we kiss, it isn’t wild. It’s soft, tentative, almost unsure—but it’s packed with all the feelings I’ve been pushing away.
But mostly, I experience what it’s like to apologize and make up. It’s both of us admitting we don’t know what we’re doing, but we want to keep trying until we get it right. And maybe that’s what marriage is. No one’s perfect at it, but we love that person so much that we continue to try until we get it right because loving Kate makes me happy.
When we finally pull back, her forehead rests against mine, both of us are breathing hard, and our hearts are still tangled in the mess we made.
But for the first time all night, I feel like we’re on the same side again.
36
FINN
THE ROOM SHE OWNED
Penalty Kill Sacrifice:Blocking shots, doing the dirty work, sacrificing everything for the team—pure selflessness. I think that our marriage works because we’re making sacrifices for each other without keeping score.
I feel naked without her.
The Miami venue is dripping in elegance—towering chandeliers spill golden light across the marble floors, while walls are lined with champagne towers and white roses. Every table gleams under the weight of crystal and silver, and everyone here looks like they walked straight out of a society magazine.
It’s a charity gala for cancer research—one I’ve supported for years—but tonight, it feels like a goddamn circus.
I’m surrounded by the team, coaches, sponsors, and old faces from the league, and a few Hollywood couples. There’s music, conducive to the occasion and not the locker room. Laughter weaves through the air, but it doesn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.
I anxiously watch the door. She should be here.
Hell, I’d rather be with her than half the people in this room—butI’d never admit that to anyone. I check my phone under the table, ignoring the sting of judgmental glances.
Still stuck. Weather’s garbage. Delayed again. I’m sorry, Finn. I swear, I’m trying.
My chest tightens. I know she’s not the type to make empty promises. If she says she’s trying, she’s doing everything she can.
And damn it… It means something to me. This thing between us—it feels real. More real than the champagne, the rented diamond necklaces, and the polite applause filling this ballroom.
And I couldn’t be happier about it.
I drift to the edge of the room, hovering near the doors like a man waiting for something he isn’t supposed to want this badly.
“She’s gonna make it,” my brother James says, clapping me on the back as he passes. He’s smirking because everyone’s noticed how distracted I am.
“I know,” I snap apologetically. My phone buzzes again.
Almost there. Sorry.
