“I have not one single regret about marrying you, hockey player.” “No?” He smiles delightedly, like this is the first time I’ve told him this in the past six months, not the hundredth. I lean closer, teasing his mouth with mine, pulling away when he tries to capture my lips. “Not a single one.” And then, I let him catch me, one big hand cupping my head as he pulls me close. “Awkward together,” he whispers against my mouth. “Always.”
