LIGHT ‘EM UP

BONUS EPILOGUE

Logan

“Who chooses black for a wedding color?”

I make a face at my best man. “Annie does. And count yourself lucky. She wanted everything pink, including our tuxes.”

Russ strokes a hand down the black lapel of his jacket. “I’d wear a pink tux.”

So would I, if Annie asked me to. I’d do anything for her. Walk on water. Climb Mount Everest. Land a triple axel.

We’re getting married today.

 I’m a little nervous, but it’s only about the wedding. Not about Annie. I am one thousand percent certain that I want to marry her and I’m eager to get it done so she’s mine forever.

I want the wedding to go well for her sake, since she’s been planning it for months.

Russ and I are with my dad in a “getting ready” room at Basswood Manor in St. Paul, Minnesota, Annie’s hometown. Dad has poured us drinks and handed out cigars, which I don’t really want, but I pretend to puff on it. The manor is old and dignified, with oak woodwork, arched windows, and parquet floors, and cigars and crystal glasses of whiskey fit the vibe.

It’s almost time.

“You ready?” Dad asks me.

I nod and meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

Our relationship has been better the last year and a half or so. We’ve both had to work at it but it’s been worth it.

“I don’t think I have to give you any fatherly advice,” he says quietly. “You don’t need it. I’ve seen your maturity and determination, in how you’ve taken control of your hockey career. How you’ve worked at our relationship. If you put the same qualities to work in your marriage with Annie, you’ll be fine.”

Pride blooms in my gut, warmth spreading through my torso. My whole life all I ever wanted was to hear approval from my father. Instead, all I got was criticism. Okay, that’s not totally true—I got his approval when I dropped the gloves or laid a bone-crushing check on another player. Dad was a tough guy enforcer when he played hockey, and he wanted me to be that guy, too.

But that wasn’t me and I spent my hockey life telling myself I didn’t care what he thought. I spent my hockey life believing I was only worth loving when I did things the way he wanted. Until I met Annie.

Annie, who had reason to hate me. But didn’t. When I learned about unconditional love from her, when I learned that she trusted me and that I could screw up and she’d still love me, I wanted that from my father, too. And thanks to Annie pushing me to talk to my hockey buddies, I learned that making yourself vulnerable isn’t weak. It’s strong. And I found the courage to tell Dad that. To tell him how his criticism made me feel.

I wanted to be a better hockey player, but also a better man.

“Look at where you are now,” Dad continues, voice gruff. “You’ve gone from fourth line to second line, you’re scoring goals and putting up assists, and you’re still playing tough. Just smarter.” His lips quirk. “You even skate better.”

Also thanks to Annie. Dad mocked me for taking “lessons” from a figure skater. But she did make me a better skater.

“Thanks, Dad.” I set down my glass and rest the cigar on an ash tray, and move toward him for a hug. Eyes closed, I squeeze him hard while his hand claps my back. “That means a lot to me.”

“I’m proud of you, son.”

My throat shrinks and tightens, and I cough as I step back and scrub wetness from one eye with my knuckle. A smile shoots across my face. “Thank you,” I choke out.

I glance over at Russ, thinking he probably doesn’t want to witness this mushy father-son moment. But he’s smiling, too.

“Time to go,” he says.

“Shit. Already?” I glance at my watch. “Okay. Let’s do this.” I pause. “There is no escape from destiny.”

Dad and Russ both crack up laughing and we quickly tidy up the room then head downstairs. The ceremony is being held in the back garden.

We walk out onto a soft green lawn. A stone and wrought iron fence surrounds the space and a soft breeze carrying the scent of roses ruffles the leaves of the massive trees above us. Guests are sitting in the white chairs that have been arranged in neat rows on the grass, all facing a white arch dripping with greenery and flowers in shades of pink, white, and yes, black.

It looks really cool.

Russ and I walk down the aisle to stand in front of the arch. We’re joined by our officiant, my teammate Igor Barbashev, who we call Barbs or Barbie. He grins at me. “You are good?”

I grin back. “Great.”

“Horosho. Good.”

I turn to survey the guests and my gaze immediately lands on the five men seated in the front row. Big, muscular men, all staring at me with lowered eyebrows and piercing eyes, their expressions equally forbidding.

Annie’s brothers.

Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I pull in a breath and give them a cheerful nod.

Their expressions don’t change.

A few last guests hastily take seats and then my parents are seated. The music that’s been playing softly stops and there are only a few murmurs. Then a new song starts: “Stand by Me.”

Ivan walks out of the mansion, also wearing a black tuxedo, his with a pale pink shirt, a white rosebud pinned to his lapel. He flashes a panty-dropping grin at the other guests, male and female, before strolling down the grassy aisle toward me.

He is Annie’s man of honor.

I may have been a little jealous of him when we first met. I saw the skating routines he and Annie did that were basically sex on ice. But I’ve gotten to know him better and he’s a good friend to Annie. The best. Also, he has a girlfriend now, Maya, who’s sitting a few aisles back. I like that.

And then it’s Annie. I see her hovering at the door, but I can’t get a good look. We didn’t do the “first look” thing. I wanted this to be my first look—as she walks toward me to say “I do.”

Calum Scott’s “You Are The Reason” starts to play.

Fuck. I’m gonna cry like a baby.

I flick a glance at Russ. Well, shit. He looks like he’s going to bawl, too. He meets my eyes, smiling sheepishly, and lifts one shoulder.

I set my jaw and turn my gaze toward Annie.

There she is.

I can’t breathe.

Flanked by her parents, the skirt of her dress floating around her, she walks toward me.

She’s a princess. A queen. A glamorous movie star.

Of course Annie wouldn’t choose simple. She loved the sequins and sparkle of her skating costumes, and that’s what she’s wearing now. Strapless, white, fitted to her body in what I’ve learned is called a mermaid style, the lace is crusted with sequins and beads. The train slides along the grass behind her with each step she takes, and a sheer veil drifts from the diamond tiara perched on her blonde hair.

The dress is gorgeous. But Annie is gorgeous-er. Her face glows. Her smile is incandescent. Her eyes are fixed on me.

And I can’t take mine off her.

Hurry.

Her smile widens as if she reads my mind and we share a moment of amusement. Excitement.

She pauses to hug her dad, then her mom, then takes the last few steps to stand next to me.

“Beautiful,” I whisper to her.

“You, too.”

She hands her flowers—pink and white roses and peonies, trailing with ivy—to Ivan and I take her hands.

“Marry me,” I say softly.

Annie

I look up into the face of the man I love more than anything. He is beautiful.

And beautiful on the inside, too. I fell in love with his strength, his determination, his honor. I misjudged him, and he pissed me off, but it didn’t take long for me to see his character. And there was always that white-hot chemistry between us, from that night years ago when we first met until…this moment. And for the rest of our lives.

“Annie and Logan, welcome to your wedding,” Igor says in his Russian accent.

We smile at him.

He welcomes the guests and reads the simple poem, “I Belong In Your Arms” by Deborah Bridea. I feel emotion rising in my chest and when I glance at Logan I think he’s emotional, too. I hope I can get through my vows.

“I have known Logan many years. I never saw heem as happy as he ees with Annie. They have things in common. They both love skating. Annie ees better than Logan, but he ees learning.”

I hear a ripple of laughter behind me.

“I think they learn from each other, many things. And that ees important.”

Truth.

Igor says a few more nice things about us, then asks me, “Annie, do you take Logan to be your husband, your best friend, and love for life?”

I meet Logan’s eyes. “I do.”

“Logan, do you take Annie to be your wife, your best friend, and love for life?”

“I do.”

We say our vows, our promises to each other.

“Logan, I promise to be your wife, your friend, your partner. I promise to share my life with yours, to love you, to laugh with you, and to build our dreams together. I promise to support you through times of trouble, rejoice with you in times of happiness, and to have faith in our journey. I promise to give you all the love I can give my whole life long.”

His eyes grow damp as I speak and his Adam’s apple bobs as he composes himself to say his own vows.

“Annie. You made me believe that love is real. You are absolutely fucking fearless—”

The guests chuckle at his language.

“—and you inspire me to be stronger. Braver. Better. I promise I will always try to deserve your trust and your love. I promise I will always let you have some of my fries.”

Everyone laughs again, including me, a tiny sob of a laugh through my tears.

“I promise to honor you, respect you, and cherish you. I promise to love you forever.”

My heart is glowing. Swelling. About to burst out of my chest.

“Annie and Logan will now exchange rings,” Igor says. “The rings are a physical representation of the promises they have just made. A wedding ring is a symbol of eternity, with no beginning and no end.”

Logan takes my wedding ring from Evan (Russ) and I hold out my left hand to him. It’s trembling just a bit. He slides the ring on and says, “This ring is a symbol of my promises to you and a reminder of my devotion to you.”

I take his ring from Ivan and repeat the same words as I slip the gold band onto Logan’s finger.

“I pronounce you married!” Igor announces. “You may keess!”

We’re both laughing and fighting tears as we move together and join our lips in a sweet, sexy smooch and everyone claps and cheers for us.

We lead the way down the aisle, followed by Ivan and Evan both looking so handsome in their tuxes.

*****

Later, when all the formalities are done—photographs, dinner, speeches that made me cry, the cake cutting—the wedding turns into a big party. Our first dance to “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran is sweet and sedate. So is the song I dance to with my dad—“All My Love” by Coldplay. But the next song is “Shut Up and Dance” and the dance floor crowds with people grooving to the beat, arms in the air, everyone shouting, “Shut up and dance,” making Logan and me laugh and join in.

I love dancing! This is a dream, on the dance floor with friends and family and my husband, moving to the music.

My brothers are all dancing with their partners, looking so in love and happy, and when I glance over at Mom and Dad, also dancing, Mom is wiping tears. Oh no!

I drag Logan with me to get closer. “Mom. What’s wrong?”

She smiles. “Nothing’s wrong.” She swipes fingertips under one eye. “I’m happy. I was watching you and Logan, and all your brothers, and y-you’re all so happy.” She sniffles delicately. “That’s all I ever wanted, for all of you…to love and be loved, unconditionally, to have someone who’s always got your back, someone who respects and worships you.” A tear escapes her eye. “Like your dad and I have.”

“Oh, Mom.” I move closer and hug her. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Annie, and I’m so proud of you. You’ve started a beautiful new life. You’ve built your new business. You’ve had some hard times, but you never let anything keep you down.”

I have built my new business. I have so many skating clients I’m having to turn some away. With three NHL teams in the region, there’s no shortage of hockey players and word is spreading that my skating skills coaching is really helping a lot of guys. Hey, my own husband is a walking endorsement for that! I’m so proud of him, for how he’s upped his game.

When the DJ plays “Rasputin” by Boney M., Igor and his wife Nadia get up on the dais and do a surprisingly accomplished but also hilarious dance routine and we all sing along to the chorus, laughing and clapping. When the music is “Every Time We Touch,” Josh Heller sweeps Logan into a dramatic waltz until the tempo speeds up and everyone is bopping to the beat. The highlight has to be Logan, Evan, Josh Heller, Easton Miller, Nathan Karmeinski, Brandon Smith, Owen Cooke, and Hunter Morrisette up there singing karaoke to “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield. They’re all rip-roaring drunk but having the time of their lives belting out the words into the microphones, arms around each other’s shoulders.

I’m laughing so hard my face hurts, but the joy inside me swells huge watching Logan with his teammates, seeing the love and camaraderie among them.

When they’re done they all sloppily hug each other and Logan points to me and gestures for me to join him up there. When I hesitate, he uses both hands to beckon me, giving me that irresistible smile. With my train bustled behind me and my heels exchanged for sparkly Converse, I hop up onto the dais. Logan wraps his arms around me and swings me in a circle and I recognize the chords of the next song… “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas.

I meet Logan’s eyes and we both grin and move to the music. Someone hands him a mic and we start singing together. Neither of us is a good singer but who cares, we’re having fun, dancing, singing, all the people we love most joining us on the dance floor and yes…this is definitely a good night.

 Listen to the Playlist!