by Kim Findlay
A sliver of hope there. She’d thought about them having a family. Good.
Mike spoke softly. “You thought you’d save me having to choose between the woman I love and hockey again.”
Bridget’s head shot up.
Mike nodded. “But it turns out that having the choice made for me is even worse. Tell me, what do you want, Bridget?”
She looked at him. “Well, the Blaze to win the Cup.”
He shook his head. “No, the real stuff. What do you most want in your life?”
She went back to her cuff. “My job, obviously. My family. You.” Her cheeks flushed.
“Okay. Ask me what I want.”
“I know you want—”
Mike shook his head. “Ask me.”
“Okay, Mike. What do you want?”
He waited till she looked up. She stilled, staring at him so intently through those crazy big glasses. He hoped she could see he meant what he was saying.
“You.”
There was a pause. The silence was loud. She opened her mouth, but he went on, “No, that’s it. When you left. I didn’t care who won the hockey game, I didn’t care who was starter, I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost you.”
Bridget didn’t seem to be able to speak.
“It wasn’t always that way. For a long time, I thought I didn’t have anything if I didn’t have hockey. But really, hockey wasn’t that much. I’d got the money, the accolades, and at the end of the day, I was going home to a hotel room, alone.
“That changed after I met you. I don’t want to go back. I won’t go back. I don’t know how to make this work, but I’m going to find a way. I love you. You’re my top priority.”
Bridget looked at him, eyes serious behind the lenses. “Mike, I love you, too, but I won’t make you choose.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve already chosen.”
* * *
BRIDGET DIDN’T GIVE him much time before she insisted he call the team and let them know he was fine. Mike expected he’d be benched, but at this point, the team needed to win more than they needed to enforce rules, so Mike would start after all.
Bridget was down at the glass for warm-ups, and the whole team saluted her. The coaches had some questions about what had happened this morning, but Mike knew he was fine to play. He’d never felt better in his life. Tonight, he couldn’t lose.
And he was right. This game did come down to the two goalies, but the “old” Mike Reimer had never been better. It took two overtime periods for someone to score, but the Blaze shut out the Victoria Chinooks to go up in the series, 3–2. It was a big win, and the whole team could feel it. Two nights later, playing back in Toronto, Mike knew that they’d broken the Chinooks after that grueling overtime win. Victoria pulled their goalie in the closing minutes, but Mike was in his zone, and shut the door.
The Blaze won the Cup.
There was a moment when the arena was frozen. Mike could feel the people in the arena, collectively, coming to terms with this. Toronto, the hockey crazy city with two hockey teams that hadn’t managed to claim the prize in more than fifty years, had won the Cup. The upstart Blaze had finally, finally brought the Cup home. The place exploded.
Only a few people noticed the redhead in the Reimer jersey run toward the tunnel where the team entered. A couple of team assistants helped her over the glass. Mike saw her running toward him. He had no idea how she’d gotten there, since he’d been the center of an ecstatic group of hockey players, but they cleared a path and she leaped into his arms, knocking him down. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing he’d won a prize more valuable than the silver trophy about to be paraded around the ice. He stared into the happy, vivid face above him, and ignoring the rest of the team, the crowd and the cameras, he kissed Bridget, kissed her with all the love and excitement and joy he was feeling in that moment. And her response let him know that he’d made the right choice.
That kiss was the photo on the front page of every Canadian paper the next day.
EPILOGUE
MIKE PULLED THE McLaren to a stop by the O’Reillys’ home. He looked over at Bridget, sitting in the passenger seat.
“Ready?”
Eyes sparkling, she nodded. The tip of her nose was a little pink, and her freckles were in full force. The Phoenix sun had been a challenge to her fair skin.
“You’re sure about this?”
“Completely.”
When Mike had talked about being free a week after the Cup finals, he’d been a little optimistic. Toronto had gone completely crazy with joy, and full credit had been given to Mike for his work. There had been interviews, a parade, and endless celebrations for the team. No one wanted to call it over. It had been two weeks before Mike and Bridget had been able to escape to Phoenix to visit Mike’s mother. It didn’t surprise him that she and Bridget got along. His mother admired strong women, and she was pleased to hear that Mike wasn’t getting his own way with his girlfriend.
Now, a month after that last big game, and the entire O’Reilly family was packed in the backyard of the family home. They had come to share Mike’s Cup Day. Every player who won hockey’s ultimate prize got to spend a day with the actual trophy. Mike had been through this three times before. The first time he’d gone back to Saskatchewan with the Sawatzkys and his old coaches and teammates. The next two times had been in Ottawa, mostly doing charity events. This time, spending the day with the O’Reillys was a no-brainer. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect scenario.
* * *
THE FAMILY HADN’T seen Mike and Bridget since they left for Phoenix, so there was chaos for a while as they entered with the Cup and its keepers in their wake. Mike kept firmly by Bridget’s side, arm wrapped around her waist. Bridget was wearing a white sundress and sandals, and he thought she looked beautiful. He was in white as well. He was tanned and happy. The playoff beard was gone.
Once the keepers had the Cup set up just so, he stood by it to say a few words, Bridget still close by his side. He looked at her, and she nodded back. She put a hand into his back pocket, unnoticed, and pulled something out and slipped it on her finger. He looked out at the happy faces, and felt a warmth inside that even a fourth Cup win couldn’t match.
“Thanks to everyone for coming here today. It’s great to share this with you. It’s not my first day with the Cup, but I think this will be the one I remember best.
“This isn’t official yet, so please don’t spread the news, but I’ve accepted a three-year deal with the Blaze.” He’d agreed to a hometown discount on his salary so that the team could still sign some of the young guys. Three years, and then Mike was going to retire, and see how he did as a dad while Bridget kept coaching. Bridget was arguing that one, but he was confident he’d get his way.
There were cheers from the family.
Mike looked down at Bridget. “The fact that Bridget is going to be coaching here in Toronto has of course had everything to do with that decision.”
He looked out at the family again. “The Cup has done some interesting things in its long life, traveling around the world with the players who’ve won it. This may be a first though.” Mike paused, nervous for a moment. Would the family approve of this as well?
Bridget held up her left hand. It sparkled. There was a diamond, and it was on her ring finger. There was a shocked silence and Mike rushed on before bedlam broke out again.
“We have something else to do—Father James?” Mike called.
The family priest came through the gate. Mrs. O’Reilly gasped and sat on her chair with a thump.
“We’re getting married!” Bridget shouted.
Then the family erupted. The women converged on Bridget, the men gathered around Mike. Fortunately, they were mostly congratulatory. Mike faced Mr. O’Reilly.
“Sorry, sir, I wanted to ask for your permission but Bridget star
ted making comments on how many sheep I was willing to pay for her. But if you have any questions, or concerns...”
Mr. O’Reilly looked at him levelly. Even though he had to look up to meet Mike’s eyes, Mike was the one feeling small.
Bridget’s dad held out his hand. “Welcome to the family, Mike. I appreciate that you’re willing to stay here for Bridget. Be good to her.”
Mike swallowed a lump. “I will, sir.”
Mike had been anticipating a big ceremony, but Bridget hadn’t wanted a fuss. She’d been through four weddings for her brothers, and she wasn’t interested in that hassle. “Been there, done that, bought the dresses I’ll never wear again.”
So, here in the backyard, they had a quick and simple ceremony, and the family potluck was all they needed for a wedding banquet. Mike and Bridget had brought champagne, and they toasted with the Cup.
In a quiet moment, Mike pulled Bridget aside. She turned to him, smiling widely. “This was a fantastic wedding. You didn’t really want the big fancy ceremony, did you?”
Mike agreed. It would have been a circus, after the Cup win, but he would have happily gone through it if that had been Bridget’s desire.
“I haven’t given you your gift yet,” he said.
Bridget’s forehead creased. “I didn’t think we were doing presents. I don’t need anything!”
Mike smiled in anticipation. He pulled out his key ring. “This isn’t wrapped...” he said as he pulled off the fob to the McLaren.
Bridget stared at the keys, speechless. Mike dropped the fob in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it.
“But, the bet...” she said, looking up at him.
“Now that we’re going to be living together, I don’t want to spend my time in fear of you setting up some trick to score on me. I’m playing it safe,” he teased. In reality, he just wanted to see the look on her face, the one he was seeing now.
“Mike, you’ve done so much for me already. You’re staying in Toronto, you’re going to spend the summer hanging around here while I start working with Jonesy, you’ve promised to coach Cormack—and I didn’t get you anything.” She looked distressed.
Mike gazed around the backyard. A year ago, he’d been questioning his future, his own worth, alone and lonely. Now he had Bridget, a big crazy family, and even though he was back on top, he had a future that didn’t depend on hockey.
He looked at her. “You’ve given me more than you know,” he said and kissed her.
Suddenly Jee cried out. Brian raced to her. She was in her ninth month, and finally conspicuously pregnant.
“I think—I think my water broke,” Jee said, in shock.
The backyard emptied as Brian picked Jee up and carried her out. The rest of the family quickly followed.
Bridget looked at Mike, grinning. “My family. I should go to the hospital. What do you want to do with that?” she asked, indicating the silver Cup, now looking forlorn with only its tenders to keep it company.
“Let’s bring it with us. Babies usually take a while, don’t they? Maybe someone at the hospital would like to see it.”
“And I can drive!” Bridget gloated.
She leaned up to kiss Mike. The Cup keepers had to clear their throats a few times before the couple stopped and gave them directions.
Mike swore that the drive over gave him his first gray hair. They were a long time getting to the hospital, but they arrived in time for the day’s second addition to the O’Reilly family.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from MARRYING THE WEDDING CRASHER by Melinda Curtis.
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Marrying the Wedding Crasher
by Melinda Curtis
CHAPTER ONE
VINCE MESSINA CONSIDERED himself a survivor.
He didn’t think he’d survive his little brother’s wedding back home in Harmony Valley.
Bittersweet memories. Long-kept secrets. Family he hadn’t seen in years. It had all the makings of a serious crash-and-burn.
The Texas summer sun beat down on Vince, nearly as hot as an oil-fueled ball of flame.
“You’re going to come to my wedding.” His younger brother Joe wasn’t asking. “And you’re going to bring that girlfriend of yours. It’s long past time we met her.”
Ah, the girlfriend.
His brothers pestered him less when they thought he was in a relationship. Hence his make-believe girlfriend, the latest of which hadn’t been make-believe a month ago.
Vince’s gaze drifted across the job site to the blonde working the tile saw. Harley O’Hannigan wasn’t likely to go away with him again. “She’s not sure she can get off work.” Besides, Harley would think he was a jerk if he asked her. But she was just the kind of woman who could hold her own against his siblings.
“What’s her name?” His older brother Gabe was nearly silenced by the whir of the tile saw and the punch-punch-punch of a nail gun. “And what’s that noise? Where are you?”
“They’re remodeling my local Starbucks.” Lying, Vince pulled his focus away from Harley. He was part of a crew working on a huge remodel in a fancy neighborhood outside of Houston. “And, no, I won’t tell you her name. The last time I introduced you to my girlfriend, you stole her, Gabe.”
Mandy Zapien, a girl with a heart of gold. He hoped she was married to somebody stable and had three kids by now.
“That was high school,” Gabe scoffed. “There is no girlfriend, admit it. All the more reason Vince needs to come home so we can straighten out his life.”
Vince’s life was fine as long as his brothers stayed out of it. Not that he didn’t love them. He just didn’t want to answer for every decision he’d made, every confidence he’d kept.
“The fake girlfriend is your tell.” Joe sounded disappointed. “The last time you bluffed about one, you’d been clipped by a stray bullet in a bar fight.”
“I wasn’t actually in the bar fight.” He’d been collateral damage, which seemed to be the story of his life. Vince set his jaw. “I’m not bluffing. There’s a girl.”
Correction. A woman. Wearing worn blue jeans, a burgundy T-shirt with the construction company’s logo and scuffed work boots. She wiped a tile dry with a towel, examining the cut she’d made in the white marble.
“Send us a picture,” Joe prodded. “We’ll compare her to Sarah Whitfield. Did I tell you she was back in town? And still single?”
“Guys...” Vince squeezed the tail end
of his patience.
“There is no girlfriend.” Gabe pounced once more. “Which means you’re in trouble. Do you need me to spot you some cash?”
“No!” Money was the last thing Vince was worried about.
Harley spared Vince a glance. She was what Texans called a tall drink of water. Long, elegant lines, delicate bone structure, straight blond hair that she kept in a long braid down her back. Everything about her appearance was at odds with her being a construction worker. That contradiction was the reason he’d asked her out. Her gentle humor and sly wit had kept him asking.
“If it’s not money, how’s that truck of yours running?” Joe jumped in on Gabe’s fun. “I could re-bore those heads again and you’d get another fifty thousand miles.”
Vince drove their father’s red-and-white 1976 pickup truck. It had a weak air conditioner, cloth seats and unreliable headlights. Dad had been a mechanic who’d struggled with mental illness, made harder on the family when Mom had left them. Despite challenges, Dad had taught his three boys his trade. Only Joe had followed in Dad’s footsteps. Gabe was a lifer in the military, currently on leave for Joe’s wedding. And Vince—
“Messina! Break time’s over.”
Vince’s boss rounded the far corner of the house they were remodeling. Jerry wore a frown and a sunburn from a weekend spent bass fishing. “That deck’s got to be finished today.”
Vince held up a hand, acknowledging the older man. “I’m fine,” Vince said into the phone. “The truck is fine. My bank account is fine. Harley is fine.” This last came out like a backfire through a rust-ridden muffler.
His brothers crowed over his slip.
“Retire Dad’s truck,” Gabe said when he stopped laughing. “I’ll reserve you a room at the Lambridge Bed and Breakfast where I’m staying.”
“Bring me some of that oil you dredge up on that rig of yours,” Joe said, gasping for breath. “Gas in California is expensive. And a girlfriend? Sarah is going to be so disappointed.”
