Worried and confused, Cam unwrapped her arms from around his neck and pulled back. The physical release had been amazing, as usual, but something weird was going on. When he looked down and saw she was crying, he was pretty sure it wasn’t because the sex had blown her away.
“Dakota, hey, baby. What’s wrong?”
He withdrew. She had her face covered with her hands, but he could see the tears leaking out and rolling down the side of her head as she drew her knees up and rolled away from him.
Shit, this was bad. Whatever it was that was bothering her was bad.
“Dakota, honey, please talk to me. What happened? Is it something I did? Did Social Services call?”
“No,” she finally said but she didn’t uncover her face.
At a complete loss, he got up and got her a glass of water and a damp face towel. By the time he got back, she had unfurled herself and was laying on her back staring at the ceiling. She glanced at him mournfully and fear and frustration gripped him.
“Dakota, I want to help you, but I can’t do anything unless you tell me what’s wrong. Please, I’m begging you, please.”
Kneeling next to the bed, he reached out and took her hand. He watched her swallow and take a deep breath.
“The day you left on your trip, I saw you had left your phone. I thought, if you realized in time, you might come back and get it. Obviously, you didn’t,” she said, glancing at him. “But in the meantime a bunch of texts were coming in and I…I looked at them.”
Then she stopped talking and covered her face again. More tears leaked out.
Fuck. What the fuck was on his phone?
He leapt to his feet and ran to the kitchen. He’d noticed his phone on the counter when he’d walked in. When he woke up the device and saw the texts she was talking about, his blood turned icy.
No wonder she’d acted like someone had died.
Gripping his phone tightly, he marched back to the bedroom. She hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Dakota, let me explain.”
She shook her head slowly. “No need. I understand. I just…I’m not sure what I should do now.”
“You should marry me, like we planned.”
She sat up, swiping at her eyes. “I’m not sure I can marry a man who says he loves me and wants to continue loving me forever, but then asks me to sign something that gives him an out in case he changes his mind.” Her voice had regained some of its normal strength, thank goodness. There was a flash in her eye that reassured him. “Marriage is a promise, Cam, and to me, it’s a promise that shouldn’t come with conditions.”
“I’m in total agreement,” he said. “That’s why we’re not getting a prenup.”
The shocked look on her face might have been comical, if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation. “We’re not?”
He knelt next to the bed and took both her hands in his. “No. I called my lawyer Friday afternoon.”
Fresh tears slid down her cheeks as he explained the timeline—how Garth had planted the idea in his head and made it seem as if was financial suicide if he didn’t.
“Unfortunately, remembering how it had been with Morgan coupled with Garth’s strongly worded advice screwed up my thinking. I should have realized right away that it was a bad idea. Every time I thought about it, which was pretty much all the time, I felt physically sick.”
“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
He nodded. “I couldn’t stand the thought of making you sign something that pretty much doomed us from the start. As soon as I got to the hotel, I called the lawyer and told her I changed my mind. I know Garth is going to throw a fit when he finds out, but I don’t give a shit.”
“So you never wanted the prenup?” she asked, moving toward him.
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “No. Never. But I’ll tell you what I do want.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I do want to see your smiling face—and Zinny’s—across from me at the breakfast table every morning. I do want to know you’re in the crowd sometimes, cheering me on. I want you to keep calling me out for being messy, because it makes me laugh. I want to love you and cherish you, so long as we both shall live.”
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized he’d quoted directly from the traditional marriage ceremony and it sounded stupid as fuck, but damned if she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were filling up again and he felt a telltale pricking in his own eyes.
“Cam, I—” She threw her arms around his neck. “I want all of that too. I love you so much.”
Then they were kissing and it was a good, pure, joyful kiss. There was none of the quiet desperation in it like before—thank the Lord—because he never wanted to see Dakota like that again. Her utter despair had fucked him up bad. If someone had told him that in order to see her really smile again he had to quit hockey or amputate something—which was pretty much the same thing—he’d have done it.
She broke the kiss and licked her lips as if tasting something. Frowning slightly, she said, “Did you cry? Were you crying just now?”
“Me? Cry?” He performed a cross between a scoff and a shrug, hoping that non-answer would suffice.
Shaking her head, she gave him an amused smile, but let it go.
He took her mouth again, with purpose, as his cock started getting hard. Time to make love to her again and show her with his body that he meant every word he’d just said.
Well, that and to distract her from the crying thing.
Because if his teammates ever found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it.