Page 92 of Dice & Dekes

“That night was chaos. And we’ve had more than our share of that. But tonight, I wanted it to be intentional. Just us. Just love.”

Since she’s figured it out, there’s no point in putting this off. The manager has just stepped out of the kitchen to greet us, but I motion that we need some privacy for another minute. She nods and retreats.

Once we’re alone again, I take Knova’s hand. “Knova, I love you more than anything. I feel like I understand you better than anyone, and vice versa.”

“Yeah, I love you so much it’s actually kind of embarrassing.” Knova cocks her head. “What’s going on here?”

I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m getting to that part. I know I’m not your first love, or your first choice, but you’re my first love, my first choice. I’m probably not as noble as Mick, and I could never replace him, but I want to take care of you and love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Viktor.” Knova’s expression softens. She reaches up to brush my cheek. “You helped me believe that love could still be safe. That it could feel like coming home. You didn’t try to replace what I lost—you just stayed and made room for all of me. You helped me work through my feelings, and you never gave up on me, even when I wanted nothing to do with you. Mick would want me to be happy. You’ve healed my heart, and it’s all yours.”

“In that case…” I reach for my blazer’s inner pocket, retrieve the jewelry box, and drop to one knee. “You deserve a proper proposal. Knova, will you marry me?”

Her hands fly to her mouth as I open the box, and she lets out a gasp. Inside is a ring with an amethyst setting surrounded by dainty rose-gold filigree and a matching necklace. The designs are fairly simple, but I know they’re Knova’s style, and she’s always liked her birthstone.

“Knova,” I ask, even as my throat closes up, “will you be my wife?”

She holds out her arms to me. “Yes. Of course. I already am.”

We’ve already taken to wearing the rings Dante’s crew provided during our disastrous first wedding ceremony, but I’m thrilled to see her slide off the clunky silver band and replace it with the ring I chose for her. The ring Sofia and I picked because we knew she’d love it.

This time, we chose each other. Clear-eyed. Sober. Head over heels.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Knova

“I still can’t believe we made it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs,” Viktor gushes. “This is huge. I mean, obviously this is the best season we’ve had since my dad was on the team. He’s been pretending he’s chill about it, but I know my dad’s proud. It’s been, what, two decades since he made it this far? And now his kid’s wearing the same jersey, chasing the same dream? That shit gets to me. Mind you, I have no idea what our odds are of winning this game, much less of winning the Cup… which is probably not going to happen, if I’m being honest, but what if we did? Of course, if we beat New York, then we still have to take on Colorado, and they’re having an amazing season. God, if we win, Lenyx is going to be insufferable for the rest of time…”

Viktor paces the house, babbling about hockey. Not long ago, I’d have assumed that it was his ego talking—like,Let’s talk about hockey, because why would anything you care about be as important as this?Now, I know what’s happening.

Viktor is nervous. He’s talking because he can’t keep all his nerves in his head or he might explode. I’d bet my last stick of gum he hasn’t eaten anything but bland pasta all day. Knowing him, he’s probably already rotated through three pairs of lucky socks and taped his stick five different times just to get the spiral perfect.

I wait for a lull in his monologue before tapping a nail into the living room wall. I’ve already measured twice, but just to be sure, I unroll the tape measure a third time to make sure my nails will be evenly spaced along the wall. When they are, I nod and let out a satisfied little hum. Perfect.

At the sound of hammering, Viktor wanders back into the living room. “What are you doing?”

“Hanging these portraits.” I wave to the pictures we painted during our ill-fated double date night. They’re currently leaning against the bottom of the wall, but soon they’ll be on display, not far from the shadowbox where Mick’s tags are now stored, along with a folded flag and some other mementos from my years of service.

Next to the shadowbox is a smaller frame—rustic wood, a little wonky—and inside it are the two original rings from our surprise wedding. The ones Dante picked. Gaudy, oversized, Vegas-cheap. His-and-hers monstrosities that screamed Elvis-themed commitment issues. I didn’t even realize Viktor had saved them until he brought them out last week, along with a crumpled printout of our marriage license. He said if we were going to laugh about how it started, we might as well frame the proof. I rolled my eyes so hard I saw the next dimension… and then helped him pick the frame. Because honestly? I kind of love that we kept them. A reminder that we turned a joke into something real. Something ours.

Viktor eyes up the portraits. “I thought you hated those.”

I have to chuckle at that. “What? I throw them in the garbage one time and you think I hate them? I thought you knew me.”

“I did. That’s why I saved them.” Viktor wraps one arm around me for a quick squeeze and kisses my temple. “I’m glad they’re going up. Even if you made me look like a freaky toy from Hot Topic.”

I kiss his cheek. I’m so happy these days that I’m just giving the wife experience away. “Yeah, and you painted me like Picasso had a stroke mid-brush. What’s your point?”

“Mine is the work of an artistic visionary.” He waves toward the image of my lopsided face.

I smirk. “And here I thought it was the work of someone with vision problems. Here, help me make sure these are even.”

Viktor steps back to give me instructions while I hang the canvases. “A little to the left… no, tilt it to the left… too much, go back… there it is.”

I join him halfway across the living room and nod my approval. “Looks good to me. What do you think?”

“They’re perfect. Just like you.”

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