Page 89 of Rookie's Redemption
It's these little moments of being truly seen, of someone anticipating what you need before you even know you need it, that makes our team feel like family.
And that's exactly what it feels like whenever I'm with Mia.
But somehow even better. Like I'm the one giving her the iced drink, not the other way around.
Six days ago, I thought I was going to die of separation anxiety. Now? Now I feel like I could take on the entire league single-handedly, because I know exactly what I'm coming home to.
Four hours later, we're walking down Fifth Avenue after what might have been the most expensive team dinner in the history of professional sports. The food was incredible and the waiters treated us like visiting royalty.
But I barely noticed any of it.
I spent half the meal FaceTiming with Mia, showing her the ridiculous gold-leafed ceiling while she showed me the progress on the shelter renovations that are finally coming to a close.
She was wearing my Icehawks t-shirt and had paint in her hair from helping Bear with some kind of trim work, and she looked more beautiful than any five-star restaurant in the world.
"You coming to that bar Connor found?" Blake asks as we stroll past the glittering storefront windows that make this New York street famous around the globe.
"Maybe in a bit," I say absently, then stop dead in my tracks.
Holy shit.
There, in the window of Tiffany & Co., sits the most perfect engagement ring I've ever seen in my life.
It's not huge or flashy.No. This bad boy is elegant, classic, with a brilliance that seems to capture every light on the street and reflect it back like glittering starlight.
It's damn near perfect… just like...
Just like Mia.
"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up," I manage, unable to look away from the ring.
"You sure?" Blake follows my gaze to the jewelry store, and his eyebrows shoot up. "Oh,shit. Scott, are you—"
"Just go," I interrupt, moving toward the entrance which is fronted by two stern looking security guards. "I'll meet you later."
I hear Connor's laughter echoing down the street as they walk away, but I don't care. All I care about is getting inside that store before they close.
The interior of Tiffany's is exactly what you'd expect. Soft, ambient light and total elegance. Like stepping into a jewelry box designed by someone with unlimited funds and impeccable taste.
I look around the store as a sales associate approaches immediately, probably recognizing the slightly desperate look of a man on a mission.
"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?"
"The ring in the window," I say with a slight mumble. "I need to see it."
"Of course." She glides away with the kind of look on her face that comes from dealing with smitten men spending ridiculous amounts of money. "That's a stunning choice. Vintage-inspired solitaire, platinum setting. It's an internally flawless diamond."
She places it on a midnight velvet tray, and under the store's perfect lighting it's even more breathtaking than it looked in the window.
The diamond catches every ray of the carefully positioned spotlights, fracturing them into a personal light show that dances across my vision like the Northern Lights. The platinum band catches the light, its understated elegance reminding me of all my promises to Mia. Of lazy Sunday mornings with her fingers laced through mine, our bodies wrapped in tangled sheets.
It's perfect. She's perfect.
"I'll take it," I say without asking the price.
The associate blinks. "Would you like to know the—"
"I'll take it," I repeat firmly. "Whatever it costs."
