Page 70 of That Thing You Brew
Xavier had to stay for the press conference. Everyone wanted the scoop on us, but he wasn’t talking. He only confirmed what they already knew, and I appreciated that. We needed to talk about what to say together.
Gabby and Noel waited with me until Xavier was released. His long strides brought him right to me, and he took my hand.
“Your harp?” he asked.
“Already in the car.”
He squeezed my hand, and we walked through the building, waving and saying goodbye to the staff and others who wished us well. At the car, he opened my door for me, and I climbed in. I’d never seen him quiet like this before.
He didn’t start the engine. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. “I messed up. I’m so sorry I let you down.”
I twisted to face him and turned his cheek to look at me. “I’m not sorry.”
He turned to me. “You’re not? Pen, I saw your face. I never, ever want to see that expression on it again. It was soul-crushing. And to know I caused it … I’m so deeply and truly sorry I let that guy get to me.”
“You were defending me. That’s your job, Xavier. And it’s my job to defend you. We promised to take care of each other, remember?”
He nodded. “But?—”
“Sure, I was surprised. Shocked, even. But it’s okay. Isn’t it? That the whole world knows we love each other?”
“He said you were a gold dig?—”
I covered his mouth with my hand. “You know that I’m not, and that’s all that matters to me.”
“Really?”
“Really. I found the cups.” Xavier had kept every single to-go cup I’d written a message on. I’d been on the hunt for something to transport his birthday cake in when I found them in a high cupboard. “I can’t believe you saved them.”
“I guess I always knew you’d mean something more to me one day. I didn’t know what or when, but if anything, it seemed lucky to keep the cups. Kiss and make up?” He waggled his eyebrows.
I laughed. “I love it when you do that.” I kissed each eyebrow, his nose, and his lips. “Nothing to make up.”
“There’s one thing.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled, stopping on the selfie we’d taken at the Coffee Loft on Valentine’s Day. I watched as he uploaded it to Instagram with the caption, “Swanny14 ??’s RenFaireAspen forever.”“Now we’re Instagram official.”
He was so funny.
“It appears we are. But just so you know, I still don’t have plans to go blond,” I joked.
“Good.” He leaned in for a kiss and murmured into my ear, “I’ve never much been into blondes anyway.”
We laughed, then went quiet. Just staring at each other … not awkward at all. His scar had lost its pink tinge and was barely visible—his only imperfection and a reminder that he’d been thinking about me. I felt peace, security, and relief that we didn’t have to hide anymore. After a few minutes, I remembered where we were headed next. “Now, are we going out to celebrate or what?”
“Celebrate?”
“Your birthday, us, your Gordie Howe hat trick? Pick one or all three. Brenna said the function room at Brewski’s is available. And maybe we can stop at home first to pick up our wedding rings?” I lifted my hands and made a show of transferring the emerald from my right ring finger to the left.
He grinned. “Definitely. Gordie Howe, huh? A goal, an assist, and a fight. I love it when you talk hockey to me.”
I booped him on the nose. “Noted.”
He brushed a tendril off my cheek and leaned in for a birthday kiss-to-remember.
Epilogue
PENNY
Iloved the word maelstrom. Merriam-Webster defines it as 1) a powerful, often violent whirlpool sucking in objects within a given radius, and 2) something resembling a maelstrom in turbulence.
