Blaze's POV
Morning light spills through the bedroom curtains, casting golden stripes across the tangled sheets and the man sprawled across my chest.
We eventually made it to the bed last night—for a second round after the couch that left us both breathless and boneless, barely able to stumble down the hallway to collapse onto the mattress.
Asher's curls are a mess, dark spirals fanning across my skin like ink spilled on paper. I twirl one around my finger absently, watching the engagement ring on his hand catch the sunlight every time he shifts in his sleep.
The platinum band throws tiny rainbows across the pillowcase, and I find myself mesmerized by the simple beauty of it—this symbol of everything we've promised each other.
"You're staring at me," Asher mumbles without opening his eyes, his voice rough with sleep. "I can feel it."
"I'm staring at the ring, actually. You just happen to be attached to it."
He snorts, finally lifting his head to squint at me with those ice-blue eyes I've loved since I was fifteen. "Romantic. Truly, I'm swept off my feet."
"You were pretty swept off your feet last night," I remind him, grinning when color rises to his cheeks. "Twice, if I remember correctly."
"Shut up." But he's smiling as he settles back against my chest, holding up his left hand to examine the ring in the light. "It still doesn't feel real. Like I'm going to wake up and find out I dreamed the whole thing."
"It's real," I assure him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "We're really getting married. Husband and husband. The whole thing."
We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, neither of us eager to break the peaceful bubble of the morning.
But eventually, the real world intrudes in the form of my phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand—notification after notification piling up until ignoring them becomes impossible.
Asher’s rolling off me, stretches, his muscles shifting beneath his skin in a way that makes me want to forget about the phone entirely. "I'm going to shower. Try not to get too famous while I'm gone."
I watch him disappear into the bathroom, appreciating the view until the door closes behind him. Then I finally reach for my phone, bracing myself for the avalanche of messages waiting for me.
The screen shows forty-seven unread texts, twelve missed calls, and more social media notifications than I can count. I scroll through the names—former teammates from Ottawa, friends from junior league, cousins I haven't spoken to in years.
Everyone wants to offer their congratulations, their well-wishes, their excitement about the engagement.
My mother's name appears three times in the missed calls, so I dial her back first.
"Blaze! Oh, sweetheart, I've been trying to reach you all morning!" Her voice is warm with genuine happiness, and something in my chest loosens at the sound. "I watched the proposal live on television. I cried, honey. I actually cried."
"Thanks, Mom. It means a lot that you called."
"Of course I called! My baby is getting married!" She laughs, the sound bright and full of joy. "Asher looked so surprised. I don't think I've ever seen that man speechless before. You really caught him off guard."
"That was the plan. I wanted it to be special for him, you know? He deserves something big and public after all those years of hiding."
We talk for a few more minutes about the proposal, about potential wedding dates, about how happy she is for us.
Neither of us mentions my father's absence from the conversation—the fact that he hasn't called, hasn't texted, hasn't acknowledged that his son just got engaged.
My mother's careful avoidance of the topic tells me everything I need to know about Richard Wilson's continued struggle to fully embrace my happiness. I push the thought aside. Today isn't about him.
After ending the call with my mother, I work through the backlog of texts, sending quick thank-you messages to everyone who reached out.
Each response is a reminder of how far I've come from the scared man who once hid his truth from everyone, including himself.
Sophie's video call interrupts my scrolling, her face filling the screen before I can even say hello. "Holy shit! Just holy fucking shit!"
She exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Do you realize I was literally in the middle of some very athletic activities with one of the hottest men I've ever had when I happened to glance at the TV and see my best friend dropping to one knee? Naturally, I screamed so loud the poor guy thought I was having a medical emergency."
"You were having sex while watching hockey?" I shake my head, grinning as I measure coffee grounds into the machine. "Even Asher isn't that obsessed with the sport."
"The game was just background noise. I wasn't actually paying attention until I recognized your face on the jumbotron. And then I absolutely lost my mind and scared the hell out of Eric."
"Eric? Is that his name?"
"Focus, Blaze. We're talking about your engagement, not my love life." She waves dismissively, then leans closer to the camera with eager eyes. "Speaking of which, where's the groom-to-be? I need to see that ring up close!"
As if summoned, Asher emerges from the bedroom with damp hair and a towel slung low around his hips. I angle the phone toward him, and Sophie immediately squeals.
"Asher! Show me! Show me the ring right now!"
He rolls his eyes but obediently holds up his left hand, letting the camera catch the platinum band.
Sophie gushes over the choice, the style, the size, the way it complements his skin tone, while Asher settles onto the kitchen stool beside me, stealing a sip of my coffee.
"It's beautiful," Sophie sighs. "Blaze, you did so good. Seriously, perfect choice."
"I know my fiancé's taste," I say, bumping my shoulder against Asher's. "Now enough about us. How are you doing, Soph? Everything okay with the debt situation?"
Something flickers across her face, so quick I almost miss it, before her bright smile snaps back into place. "Everything's fine! I'm close to the finish line with payments, actually. Should have it all sorted out within the next few months."
"That's great news," Asher says, but his phone buzzes before he can continue. He glances at the screen and his expression softens. "It's my parents. I should take this—they've been trying to reach me."
He steps away toward the living room, leaving me alone with Sophie's image on my phone screen. The moment Asher is out of earshot, I lean closer to the camera.
"Sophie. What's really going on?"
Her smile wavers almost imperceptibly. "I told you, everything's fine. Just busy with work stuff, that's all."
"You're a terrible liar. I can hear it in your voice—something's wrong."
"Blaze, seriously, I'm okay. Don't worry about me on your engagement day."
She forces brightness into her tone that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Listen, I should go. Eric's probably wondering where I disappeared to. But I'll come visit soon for wedding planning, okay? We'll have so much fun picking out flowers and cake flavors!"
Before I can press further, she blows a kiss at the camera and ends the call, leaving me staring at a blank screen with lingering unease settling in my stomach. Something is definitely wrong with Sophie—something she's deliberately hiding.
But before I can dwell on it, Asher returns with a warm smile spreading across his face.
"That was my mom and dad. They want to congratulate you personally—asked if we could come for dinner this weekend so they can welcome their future son-in-law properly."
The joy in his voice pushes my concerns about Sophie to the back of my mind. Whatever's troubling her can wait. Right now, I have a fiancé to celebrate and a future to plan.
"Tell them we'd love to come."