Dec 19, 2021: This was the first bonus chapter I wrote, when I first decided to have Camille and Taylor end up together.
I was going to barf.
Seriously.
There was simply no way that I would manage to keep the contents of my stomach down with the anxiety tearing through my body.
The problem was that I was completely surrounded by equally anxious (if that was possible) bodies donning blue and white jerseys. And these bodies were loud. Cheering, screaming, cursing...all of the above, depending on what was going down at the ice level.
So, unless I wanted to project my insides onto the shiny bald head in front of me, I better take a deep breath to steady myself.
Just as I let out the longest exhalation I didn't even know my lungs were capable of producing, a hand clamped down on my forearm and squeezed. Hard.
I glanced up at Sofia, her stunning face a few shades paler than normal.
"They're going to do it," I croaked, my voice drowning out in the crowd.
She just nodded and clenched the arm of her husband, James.
He hadn't said much at all in the past ten minutes and I didn't blame him. It was a hell of a lot to process; the entire game was. It was the seventh game of the fourth round of the playoffs, which meant that this was It. This was the game in which the Stanley Cup would be awarded. The home team was the Saints which mean that about 99% of the people in attendance so desperately wanted Toronto to be the one to come out victorious. After scoring first early in the first period, it was a tight game. Then halfway through the second period, Boston got a lucky bounce and just like that, it was tied. Within the final five minutes of the third period Boston scored again and it felt like my heart fell out of my chest and landed under my boot. I'd never admit this to Taylor, but I thought it was over. I really did. With two minutes remaining the Saints pulled their goalie, got an extra forward on the ice, and managed to tie the game. Taylor had passed the puck to his winger who slipped it through five-hole.
Taylor and his teammates jumped against the boards.
The crowd through their hands in the air.
Sofia screamed while James whistled.
And I nearly collapsed.
Now, it's overtime.
I keep my eyes focused on Taylor as he circles centre ice, getting ready to take the opening face off. As if he can sense me looking, he glances upwards. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people in the stands separating us, not to mention the boards, but I know we're having a moment. He nods, hunching over slightly, leaning on his stick over his knees, and I nod back. The part of me that has never grown up wants to give him a thumbs up, but I'm twenty-seven now, and much more sophisticated than the girl who first fell in love with this boy all those years ago.
Taylor has been in the league for six years now and is in what many people would call his prime. Aside from that brief stint with the Winnipeg Storm that started his career, he's been on the Saints. They've made the playoffs every single year but have never made it this far. If they lose tonight, I don't know what's going to happen. There's always next year, they say, but it's not a guarantee. I've learned that nothing in life is.
"Okay, they're starting," Sofia murmurs as the referee drops the puck at centre ice.
She squeezes my arm again and I lean into her. I'm sure a few of the people around us recognize us from the promotional video Taylor shot with his family last year, but no one is paying any attention. All eyes—including my own—are fixated on the continuous action on the frozen water. There aren't any TV timeouts, just the odd whistle here and there. Twelve minutes have passed in the period and no one has scored. Of course they haven't; as soon as the puck crosses the line and enters the net, it's game over.
Then suddenly a Saints defenceman goes into the boards and the referee's arm shoots up. It's a tripping call and the Saints get a power-play.
And then it's all a blur.
Taylor wins the face off. Passes the puck to his winger. Winger to the defenceman. Back to the winger. And then to Taylor.
He shoots.
And scores.
Everybody is screaming and jumping as the Saints bench floods onto the ice, surrounding Taylor in a hub of elation.
James kisses his wife and then the three of us huddle into a tight hug.
"For Mark," James says and I can hear the tears in his voice.
I'm crying at that point too, and I don't stop.
Within ten minutes security starts encouraging the fans to leave and the only people left in the seats are family and friends of the players. We're all led down to ice level where the team is still yelling and hugging and celebrating with the trophy over their heads.
When they see their loved ones, the guys break off to their people. I let Taylor's parents hug him first, because this is their moment just as much as it is his. Sofia finally pulls away, wiping at her eyes, and Taylor skates over to me.
I don't care that he's sweaty or about twice the size of me in his equipment or that I usually hate PDA. In that moment, I let my love lift me in the air, twirl me around, and kiss me like I was the greatest trophy in the world.
When I met Taylor's girlfriend for the first time, I was just starting my PhD after finishing up my Masters that summer. I remember thinking that she was beautiful, tall with shiny brown hair. What I wasn't thinking was that one day, a few years from then, I'd become Taylor Hudson's girlfriend. But that's what happened.
After that night at the restaurant, when I realized that no matter what would happen, I'd be okay, Taylor and I didn't magically become friends again.
It started with a few text messages. He was going back to Pasadena for the summer and I was going back to Winnipeg, and we checked in on each other occasionally. When we both returned to Toronto in September, we made plans to meet up in-person. Taylor was a bonafide superstar in the city, so he suggested I come to his apartment to avoid photo-ops and crowds. Even though that place held a hell of a lot of memories for me, the visit was pleasant. I don't think I had ever laughed as much as I had that night. We were comfortably falling back into our friendship and I was so over him that I was actually able to have fun. When someone knocked on the door, Taylor answered it and I met his girlfriend. She was nice, and didn't seem at all jealous or suspicious that I was there. I guess I didn't look like a threat, with my naturally curly hair in a low ponytail and my relaxed fitting jeans. I was okay that she was there, really I was.
They broke up two months later, after Taylor found out she slept with someone on the minor league team.
I was there for Taylor, even though he insisted he wasn't heartbroken.
Over the next few years I went on a few dates—all duds—and continued to see Taylor. We even hung out with Angela and Lawson, just like old times. Angela eventually stopped giving him the stink eye.
I went back to Pasadena with him and he visited my family in Winnipeg.
And it just happened.
In my life, I had fallen in love with Taylor Hudson, gotten heartbroken by him, gotten over him, and then fell in love with him again.
Taylor was twenty-five. His prefrontal cortex was fully developed. He was no longer the selfish, immature guy he was five years ago. And yet, all the things I loved about him were still there. I don't think I'll ever truly know if I fell in love with him twice or if I never stopped loving him. In the end, though, it didn't matter. I was in love with Taylor Hudson.
But this time, it was different.
Taylor's eyes are light like I've never seen them as he opens his apartment door with me in his arms.
"I think you can put me down now," I laugh into his chest.
"No chance. I like having you here."
I know it's the residual adrenaline that's fuelling him to carry me from the parking garage and all the way up here. I'll indulge him, because this is my favourite place to be.
"Do you know what you want to wear?" I ask once we're finally inside his place. There are a few team celebrations we're supposed to join soon.
He shakes his head.
"I know we have to leave soon, but I want to enjoy this moment for a second," he announces.
I glance up at him, smiling, as I lead him to his bedroom, the one with the view I'm still in love with. I look at the bedside drawer, and I know exactly what's in it. A box of condoms he only ever uses with me and a few toys for when we're in the mood.
"I still can't believe you guys won," I breathe, sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping my legs around his torso, pulling him close to me.
"It was amazing," Taylor agrees, eyes narrowing in on my lips. "But it's still not the greatest thing I've ever done."
My eyebrows furrow. "No? What was, then?"
He leans in and peppers a few kisses into the corner of my mouth, the ones he knows are my favourite because of the chills they set my body in.
"Finally coming to my senses and realizing I'm in love with you."
THE END
Thank you so much for reading!