A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

Bailey steps into the tent, clutching Van’s arm like she’s in as much need of support as I feel. Her eyes are only on mine, but I can’t hold her gaze. I need to look everywhere.

Now, her beauty hits me like a solid punch.

Today is about Bailey and me. But the teammates in my close circle have never felt as much like brothers as they have this week when they were all busting their butts to help me throw this wedding together. Van walking Bailey down the aisle—something I should have thought about but didn’t—means the world.

“Hi,” Bailey whispers as she and Van stop. I’m grinning, but I swear, I just felt the slide of a tear on my cheek. “Hi,” I murmur back. “You look beautiful, Leelee. Perfect. Radiant. Am⁠—” “We got the point, Mr. Thesaurus,” Alec mutters.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” he asks.

And then there’s a chorus of male voices joining Van as they say as one, “We do.” It takes effort to swallow past the lump in my throat. The whole row of my closest teammates spoke up. Every single one.

“You’re just what he needs,” Van says quietly to Bailey. Then loud enough for the whole tent to hear, he adds, “If this guy gives you any trouble at all, let us know. We’ll make him suffer.”

Bailey’s lips on mine feel like forever, not fraud.

Today didn’t feel like an act. It didn’t feel like an arrangement. I know on my part, it was all sincere. But it seemed to be the same for Bailey.

“Awkward together,” she reads. “From our first date. Eli—I love it.”

want to give her everything.

It was perfect. Everything I could have wanted—except the full assurance that it’s as real for Bailey as it is for me.

Eli: I was advised that patience might be a good virtue in this particular situation. Bailey: Patience is overrated. Any other reason? Eli: I’ve been told I can be too much. Bailey: You are NEVER too much for me, Eli. And I don’t want you to hold back.

“And he’s clearly head over heels for you.” “You think?” I whisper. Maggie nods,

All I can think about is Eli being injured and being alone. Not knowing how I really feel about him. “Where are you going?” Annie asks. “To get my purse,” I say, not slowing down. “I have to get to him.”

No—the one person whose face I’d like to see—need to see—is across the country.

Whatever. I know Bailey is the woman I want, and I know I want to tell her.

“I needed to see for myself that you were okay. I’ve been traveling all night, and the last thing I saw was you on the ice, not moving.”

“Did you fly all the way here to tell me how much I sucked in the last game?” “Yep. That and to tell you I love you.” “Aw, you—wait. Hang on. Did you just say you love me?”

“I love you.”

“You love me?” I know I sound incredulous, and Bailey’s face dims slightly—not what I wanted. At all. “I know it’s soon, and we still barely know each other but⁠—” “I wasn’t aware love had a strict timeline,” I say. “Or that you had to exchange social security numbers or something before you could say it. Because I don’t know everything about you, and I don’t know your social security number, but I love you, Bailey Hopkins.”

I can’t stop looking at Bailey. Who loves me.

“I love you, Bailey not-yet Hopkins,” I tell her. “And it may be soon, but I’ve known for longer.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” I say. “I wasn’t sure how you felt, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured or stuck. I wanted to win you over without overwhelming you.”

“You do not overwhelm me, Eli. You aren’t too much for me. The last thing I want is for you to hold back.” “Good.”

And then I kiss her, not holding back. Not holding back the depth of emotion I feel for her or the hopes I have for us, not holding back because of fear or worry or uncertainty.

Our life together isn’t just about me. My career doesn’t need to take precedence over yours.”

“I want us both to have what we want,” I say, leaning into his warm palm. “What I want most is you,” Eli says,

“Wherever I can have you. I do love it here. Love our house, love my team, even love this little town. But I’d do life wherever you are, so long as you’re my partner in it....

“I like your face,” I tell him, stretching up to kiss his jaw. “I like your everything.” I give his neck a little nibble. “Always trying to one-up me with your words.” “I’m not trying to one-up anyone,” he says. “It’s the truth.” “Well, I like your everything too.”

“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.”