Page 405 of Faking the Goal

And everything else disappears.

"Taylor, before you, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted my life to look like. Hockey was always the plan. Make it through college, get drafted, play professionally. That was my dream, and for a long time, I thought that was enough for me."

His fingers tighten around mine.

"Then you came into my life and annoyed the absolute shit out of me."

Laughter ripples through the room, and a watery laugh escapes me too.

"Still do," I whisper.

"I know." His mouth twitches before his expression softens again. "But somewhere between fighting with you, pretending to date you, and falling completely fucking in love with you, my dreams got bigger. Because suddenly, hockey wasn't the only future I wanted anymore. I wanted one with you."

Oh God.

Here come the fucking tears again.

Kentaro sees them immediately, but he keeps going.

"You spent a lot of your life believing you had to take care of yourself because people leave. You learned not to need anyone because needing someone meant giving them the chance to disappoint you. And I know marrying you isn't going to erase any of that. I'm not stupid enough to think loving you magically makes everything you've been through disappear."

His voice roughens, and his thumb strokes over my knuckles.

"But I can promise you this. As long as I'm alive, you will never have to wonder if you're wanted. You will never have to question whether there's a place you belong, because there will always be one beside me. You will never have to face anything alone unless you specifically tell me to fuck off and give you five minutes."

A laugh breaks through my tears.

"Even then, I'll probably only make it three."

More laughter moves through the guests, but Kentaro doesn't look away from me.

"I promise to protect you when you need protecting and stand beside you when you don't. I promise I'll never make your choices for you or ask you to make yourself smaller for me. I promise to support every ridiculous dream you decide to chase, even if it takes you halfway across the world and I have to survive on FaceTime until you come home."

His eyes are glistening again.

"And someday, I want us to build the family you always deserved to have. A loud one. Probably a fucking chaotic one if our kids inherit your personality—"

I let out an offended laugh. "My personality?"

His grin flashes through his tears.

"I'm reading my vows, Trouble."

The room erupts in laughter.

I shake my head at him, crying and smiling at the same time.

"A family where nobody ever has to question whether they're loved," he continues. "Where our kids grow up knowing their parents will always show up for them. Where they feel safe being exactly who they are. I want birthdays and holidays and stupid traditions we make up ourselves. I want a home that's probably too loud and always messy and filled with so much love that there's never room for anyone inside it to doubt they belong."

Fuck.

My face crumples completely.

"And when we're old and our kids have their own lives and hockey is something my knees remind me I used to play, I still want you. I want to wake up beside you and annoy you until you threaten to smother me with a pillow."

"You're already very good at that," I choke out.

"I've been practicing."