I set a rhythm that has her moaning, her legs locked around my waist, drawing me deeper with each thrust. I know her body now, maybe better than I know my own. I know exactly how to angle my hips to make her gasp, how to time my strokes to build her pleasure slowly.
"I love you," I murmur against her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "Rakastan sinua. I love you."
She comes apart beneath me, her body arching, walls clenching around me as she cries out. The sight of her pleasure pushes me over the edge, and I follow, burying my face in her neck as my cock pulses deep inside her addictive heat.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing patterns on her back. The fire crackles in the hearth, engulfing us in warmth.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
She looks up. "For what?"
"For this. For coming here with me. For..." I swallow hard. "For helping me find this part of myself again."
Her eyes soften. "You know what this place needs?"
"What?"
"A really good coffee shop." She grins, propping herself up on my chest. "I've been working on a new blend. 'Finnish Line'—dark roast, cardamom, hint of cloudberry."
"Cloudberry?" I laugh, pulling her closer. "Of course you have. Only you could create a coffee withcloudberries."
She leans down and kisses me, looking deeply into my eyes.
"We've got three more days," I remind her. "Then back to reality."
"Iron Ridge misses you," she says after a moment. "You know once we're back it'll be crazy again. Chapter and Grind. And The Nest."
Both of her cafés are thriving.
The arena space, now officially named "The Nest & Grind", has become the hotspot for hockey fans and players alike. Between taking some time out to work out what I want to do, and helping Emma run her coffee empire, retirement suits me better than I ever imagined.
That evening, we stand at the edge of the frozen lake, bundled against the cold. Emma leans back against my chest, my arms wrapped around her waist as we stare up at the darkening sky.
"There," I point north. "That's where they'll appear."
"The Northern Lights," she whispers reverently. "Your mom used to watch them?"
I nod, resting my chin on her head. "Every winter. Said they were messages from loved ones who'd passed on."
Emma's hand covers mine where it rests on her stomach. "Do you think she'd be happy? With how things turned out?"
"Yeah," I say softly. "I think she'd love you almost as much as I do."
"Almost?"
"No one loves you like I do, Emma Carter. Soon-to-be Emma Kane… No one."
She turns in my arms, rising up to kiss me softly. "One month till the wedding."
"Not soon enough."
The sky begins to shift above us, ribbons of green and purple dancing across the stars. Emma gasps, turning back to watch as the Northern Lights begin their silent ballet.
"It's magical," she breathes.
I hold her tighter, watching the lights reflect in her eyes, thinking of my mother, of Finland, of the strange, perfect path that led me to this woman and this moment.
"Yeah," I agree. "It is."