“Never underestimate the value of a gay man arranging flowers,” he says dryly and then pushes the large container of what looks to be lilac and lavender sprigs mixed with baby white roses away from him. “Let’s see it.”

I round the worktable and come up to stand beside him, plopping the latest issue of Sports World on the wooden top.

Max’s gorgeous face grins back at us with the title “Hottest Sports Bachelor” across the top.

I have to say, I love the photo they chose. It was one of him sitting on a chrome barstool, holding a goalie stick across his lap as he wound tape around the base. I remember the photographer telling him to look up and “smile,” and when he did so, they captured the perfect picture, complete with shining eyes and panty-dropping dimples.

“Have you read it yet?” Stevie asks as we stare at the cover.

“Nope,” I tell him. “Thought we could do it together and maybe giggle like girls when we do so.”

“I can totally do that,” he says, and starts flipping through the magazine until we get to the article, which starts with the preceding page filled with Max and the two bikini babes on either side of him.

Doesn’t even bother me in the slightest.

“He’s so hot,” Stevie murmurs.

“Tell me about it,” I say dreamily.

“Okay, let’s read the article,” he says, and starts to do so out loud. “‘Voting was contentious and close, but we’re pleased to announce that Max Fournier, hot goalie for the Carolina Cold Fury, has been named as Sports World’s Hottest Bachelor.’”

Stevie continues to read aloud, the article actually giving a lovely recitation of Max’s accomplishments, all the way back to when he played hockey as a little kid in Montreal. While he reads, I just stare at the hotness of Max, completely able to disregard the gorgeous women beside him.

When Stevie flips to the next page, I blink for a moment but then immediately my eyes are locked onto the next picture and I’m stunned. It’s not one from the formal photo shoot, but rather one of the candid photos Camille took of me and Max. The reporter must have reached out to her for them.

It’s not one of the ones that were in her horrid article but appears to be the moment just before he’d kissed me. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he’s peering down at me with such utter love that my knees start to shake.

Did I recognize that in his eyes then?

I don’t remember, but it’s clear as day now.

Max is looking at me as if I matter more to him than the air he breathes. And my gaze back at him . . . it mirrors his perfectly. I’m staring back with the same look of almost awe and devotion.

“‘. . . and Max was more than happy to talk to us about his love life,’” Stevie says, and my ears definitely perk back up at that.

I lean in closer to him and my eyes start scanning the article, trying to pinpoint exactly where he’s reading from. But the magazine is snatched out from under my nose and Stevie steps back from me, holding it up to read further.

“Stevie,” I say with a growl.

He just holds his hand up and says, “Cool it, sister. And just listen.”

I give out a huff of frustration, but then Stevie’s reading and I’m suddenly lost to Max’s words. “‘Let me tell you something about Jules. She is without a doubt the most amazing human being I’ve ever met. Not woman . . . I’m talking out of all the people I’ve ever encountered, she’s the best of them. I could go on and on, but I know it would embarrass her if I did. That’s because she’s also one of the most humble people I’ve ever known. I know she’s taken some flack from a few of my fans, but I have to believe that most of them aren’t like that. That they’re truly happy for me that I’ve found someone to share my life with.’”

Prickles in my nose again, and that’s the sign a good cry is coming. It’s my cry-o-meter.

Even Stevie gets a little choked up when he continues on, “‘And while I wasn’t all that crazy about being named hottest bachelor and all that, because let’s admit it—it’s a little embarrassing—I’d at least like to accept this title as sort of my last hurrah. So Jules . . . I know you’re reading this, babe . . . I’d like to officially take myself off all bachelor lists and ask you to marry me. You know it’s not too soon, and you know it’s right. So as soon as you finish this article, give me a call and tell me yes, okay?’”

“Holy shit,” I wheeze as Stevie’s eyes fly up from the magazine and lock with mine.

“Did he just?” Stevie whispers.

“Ask me to marry him?” I whisper back.

He nods at me, almost afraid to say it again. But then he lowers the magazine and, still whispering, asks, “What are you going to do?”

I don’t even hesitate as my hand dives into my purse and I fish my phone out. My hands are shaking as I pull up Max’s number and tap it. As it starts to ring, I look back to Stevie and grin. “I’m going to say yes, of course.”