Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
The love of my life.
EPILOGUE
Sebastian
Our midcentury modern home sits on three acres outside the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows, open concept living spaces, and enough yard for Sockrates to run himself to exhaustion. The bedroom windows face east, catching the morning sun that streams across our California king. It's the perfect house to raise our family in.
We moved here two years ago, after I signed my new contract.
Sockrates stopped stealing socks about a month after the move, like he finally had enough space to stop being a klepto. Though he still occasionally hoards one of my game-day socks, as if maintaining tradition.
Mad finds it funny. I find it annoying.
These three years of marriage have been everything I never knew I wanted. Even through the heartbreak of failed pregnancies and fertility treatments, we grew stronger. Each loss pulled us closer instead of driving us apart. Mad's strength through it all humbled me. She endured medical procedures, needles, hormones, disappointment—all while supporting my career and growing her own.
I really married a superwoman. Surprised? No. But grateful.
For the first time in my life, I have someone who loves me unconditionally and who I would burn the whole world for. Who watches every game from the family box, wearing my jersey. Who understands that hockey is what I do, not who I am. Who made a marriage that started as a PR stunt into something real—the realest thing I've ever known.
It's still early morning when I feel Mad's hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. My first thought is she's had another nightmare. They've plagued her since our false positive eight months ago.
"Sebastian, wake up."
I roll over, already reaching for her. "I'm here, baby."
Her face comes into focus—tear-streaked, but her eyes hold something I haven't seen in a long time. Hope.
"Look," she whispers, holding out a white plastic stick.
My brain takes a moment to register what I'm seeing. Two pink lines. Clear as fucking day.
"Is that—?" My voice cracks, and I can't finish the sentence.
She nods, more tears spilling down her cheeks. "I didn't want to wake you, but I couldn't wait."
The room spins. My heart slams against my ribs like I've just done a full-ice sprint. I take the test from her trembling fingers, staring at those two lines that represent everything we've been fighting for.
"How many did you take?" It's a stupid question, but we've been here before. False positives. Hopes that turned to ash.
"Three." Her smile breaks through the tears. "All positive."
I pull her against me so hard she gasps. My face presses into her hair, and I'm not ashamed of the wetness on my cheeks. After three years and more doctor appointments than I can count, we're here.
"We're pregnant, baby."
She nods against my chest. "We're pregnant."
The mattress dips as Sockrates jumps onto the bed, sensing the shift in energy. He nudges his snout between us, whining softly. I scratch behind his ears with my free hand, the other still clutching the test.
"You're gonna be a big brother, buddy."
Sockrates tilts his head, blue eyes eerily intelligent. As if he understands exactly what's happening.
"I love you," I tell Maddison, my voice rough with emotion. "We're going to be parents."
Her hand slides to my face, thumb wiping away tears I didn't realize were still falling. "I love you too."
I place my palm flat against her stomach, knowing our baby is there—microscopic but mighty. A fighter, like their mother. Like me.
"Hey, little one," I whisper. "We've been waiting for you."
Thirty-six weeks later, Mad is absent from my box for the first time in a while. She's staying at home, watching on TV. That's where I'm headed once the game ends. I wasn't going to show up since I prefer being by Mad's side, but she insisted I should be here. That this game is not just for me, but for her and our little one.
It took a couple of serious threats before I finally conceded and went to the arena, Coach chewing my ear off after being almost late.
Tonight's Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final. If we win, it'll be my first Cup as captain. Coach Anderson says I'm playing the best hockey of my career this season. Maybe because for the first time, I have something more important waiting for me at home.
Then…
The final buzzer sounds. We've done it. 4-2 victory.
Stanley fucking Cup champions.
The bench empties. Gloves and sticks fly through the air. I'm crushed under a pile of sweaty teammates, their screams ringing in my ears. Twenty-three years of skating, thousands of hours of practice, hundreds of games—all for this moment.
When I finally stand, Coach Anderson is pushing through the celebration, his face serious despite the win.
"Clay! Clay!" He grabs my shoulders. "Your wife's water broke. She's on the way to Memorial Hospital."
The world stops. The roar of the crowd fades to nothing.
"What?" I shout over the noise.