Page 79 of One Pucking Life

I take it slowly, hands trembling as I flip it over.

It’s Max’s handwriting. Neat. Slanted. Familiar.

We only get one fucking life, and I want to spend mine with you.

My breath catches in my throat. Everything else fades—the music, the laughter, the buzz of celebration. All I can see is this tiny square of paper and the words I’ve never read before.

This note is new. I know it. I would’ve remembered this one.

A hush falls over the room as the crowd parts, like a scene from a movie. Max is there now, walking toward me from the bar. His eyes are on me and only me.

He stops in front of me, his gaze full of love, and takes both my hands in his.

“While I’m sure all love stories are beautiful, there’s no doubt in my mind that ours is my favorite,” he says. “Every note, every word, every day, every moment has made me fall more in love with you. You’ve given me a home, a family, and a love I never thought I’d find.”

The tears start rolling down my cheeks before I even realize they’re there. He lowers himself onto one knee. The bar falls silent around us.

From his back pocket, he pulls out a heart-shaped Post-it Note. “I think you dropped this one too,” he says.

I take it from him, hands trembling. Written in bold, beautiful letters:

Will you marry me?

I blink away tears and lift my eyes from the paper in my hand—to find Max down on one knee, holding a diamond ring.

“Delaney Hagan, I love you more every single day, and I want to keep loving you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, the word breaking with emotion. “Yes, Max.”

The bar erupts—cheers, applause, the pop of a champagne cork, whistles echoing off the rafters.

Max rises and sweeps me into a kiss, spinning me around as laughter and love explode around us.

It’s chaotic. It’s loud. It’s perfect.

And I know, without question, I’ll never love another man the way I love Max.

There will be more Post-it notes—grocery lists, reminders, silly flirty messages—but the ones I received tonight?

They’ll always be my favorite.

This moment is etched into my soul forever.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

DELANEY

Iwalk into the Fire House, hand in hand with my fiancé. The entire scene feels like déjà vu—almost identical to the one we stepped into a few days ago. Same bar. Same crowd. Same energy.

“I’m having serious déjà vu,” I say. “A parade of players isn’t about to come at me with Post-it notes again, right? I mean, I already have the ring.” I lift my left hand, flashing the diamond for emphasis.

Max squeezes my hand. “No Post-its tonight. Promise.”

“Look, I’m super excited about our engagement—don’t get me wrong. I’m just not entirely sure why we’re having an engagement party that’s basically a copy-paste of your Stanley Cup celebration… three days later. Wasn’t the night you proposed enough of a celebration?”

“Because my sister wasn’t in town then, and she is now. So yes, we’re having a party.” He reaches across my body, takes my left hand in his, and presses a kiss to the ring. “This is worth celebrating.”

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