“What are we going to tell her?”

Arizona’s eyes followed her seven-year-old daughter as she crossed the small café, a bounce in her step as she approached the counter and waited for the barista to hand her down her own small hot chocolate. Sofia was getting so big – over the last year she’d been in New York, the little girl had grown in spades, both physically and emotionally, and although she’d always been a little precocious Arizona was sure she was now intelligent far beyond her years.

Callie let her gaze follow her ex-wife’s for a moment before directing it back across the table toward the blonde herself, and she reached out almost instinctively, her hand lightly squeezing the other woman’s.

“The truth, Arizona. She’s going to be so happy.”

“Exactly,” blue eyes immediately glanced toward the elder brunette, “she’s going to be so happy, Callie…but what if this…what if we don’t work out – again? It’s going to break her heart. She was never old enough before to know any different, but if this doesn’t work and we break up again, she’s going to be crushed–”


Callie cut the smaller woman off, glancing over towards their daughter again to see that she was now animatedly in conversation with the teenager behind the bar.

“Stop thinking we’re going to break up again.”

Arizona’s eyes flickered up to meet the deep brown gaze across the small table, and her fingers fiddled lightly with the open collar of her jacket.

“This is it for us,” Callie continued speaking softly when the blonde didn’t reply, “we are together. We’ve been together again for nearly six months, and I know it’s been long-distance but it’s felt so, so right. You’re it for me, Arizona. I’m never letting you go again – I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”

A small smile graced the beautiful features in front of her, and Arizona let out a calming breath, letting her own smile match the other woman’s.

“I love you, Calliope. I’m not going anywhere either.”

“Mom, Mama, guess what!”

Sofia appeared beside them with her to-go cup carefully held in her hand, and she set it on the table as Arizona pushed her chair back a bit, allowing the young girl to climb into her lap. With her mother’s arm wrapped snugly around her waist, Sofia grinned happily, pulling her cup towards her again.

“The girl who makes the drinks is named Sofia too! I saw it on her apron. And I know I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name but you were right here and she was super nice and she said anytime we come back she’ll make sure to give me extra marshmallows and the chocolate sauce on top and the whip cream cause Sofia is the best name.”

Callie couldn’t help the grin that lit up her face as she watched them. Sofia was so much like Arizona – from her expressions and her sense of humour, down to her bubbly, talkative personality. She’d missed this – missed them together. Their weekends over the last year had never been enough.

“Sofia is the very best name,” Arizona’s dimpled grin matched their daughter’s as she smoothed down some flyaway dark hair, “and maybe we can come back here next Sunday, how about that?”

The young girl looked up at her mother and then across at her other parent, brown eyes curious and hopeful.

“Are we really still gonna be here next Sunday?”

“We are, I told you, baby,” Callie wrapped her hands around her own warm cup of coffee, “we’re home for good. That’s why we packed up everything in New York.”

“Just making sure. Are you going to keep staying with me and mom and Andrew?”

“Actually, Sof…” Arizona glanced over her head to see Callie nod, confirming what she was about to say, “I think you, me, and mama are going to get a new house – just the three of us.”

Sofia’s face lit up immediately – although her eyebrow arched curiously as she looked up into the blue eyes of her mother.

“Another new house?”

Laughing softly, Arizona dropped a kiss on her temple, squeezing the small body affectionately around the middle.

“I know, sweetie. There have been a lot of new houses the last couple years. But this one will be the last, I promise. It’ll be a really good one.”

“And we’re going to live there for a long, long time. Together.”

Callie chimed in, and she could see the gears turning in the young girl’s mind as she sipped her hot chocolate again, her inquisitive brown eyes studying Callie’s own for a minute.

“Because you and mommy love each other again, right? Like, love love. That’s really why we came home.”

Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres was always so much smarter than her mothers imagined – not that either of them were terribly surprised. And they’d been kidding themselves in thinking she hadn’t picked up on what was happening between them.

“Yeah, Sof,” Callie laughed softly, reaching over to twine her fingers with Arizona’s in plain sight of their daughter, “I love love her. I love her a lot.”

Arizona smiled, her gaze meeting Callie’s over the top of Sofia’s head. and she tightened her hold ever so slightly on the hand wrapped around hers.

“I love you, Arizona.”

And while it wasn’t the first time they’d uttered the words since being together again – in fact, they’d spoken them many times, in many ways over the phone and in texts and on weekends in New York – it was the first time they’d spoken them in front of Sofia. And somehow, speaking that promise out loud to her was even more of a commitment – even further solidifying their need, and more importantly their want to be together. Because the one thing they’d realized over the last six months was that being in love with each other was so much more than a simple, invisible pull – it was undeniable, fated even, that much was clear – but it was also a choice. And for the last time, for good, they had chosen each other.

“I know.”

Sofia grinned widely, plucking a half melted marshmallow from the top of her cup, and practically glowing from the obvious love of both her mothers, she popped it into her mouth, licking her chocolately fingers. 

As far as she was concerned, it was simple. Her mothers loved her, and they loved each other. She had everything she’d always wanted.

“Can we invite Andrew over for supper sometimes though? He’s not a very good cook…he might starve without us.”




You have a slightly disheveled but very cheerful looking Ovi, with messy hair, untucked shirt, and arms flung wide; you have a much more put-together looking Nicklas Backstrom, who seems to be on the verge of rolling his eyes and muttering, “Could you please make it a little less obvious we did the Mile High Club thing in between Montreal and Winnipeg?” but is smiling and leaning in nonetheless; you have a mildly put-upon teammate behind them who is probably thinking, Pose like a couple on your own time, guys, it’s cold and I wanna get off this thing and get to the hotel.

I give this 8 out 10 in terms of “Most Ovechkin Way To Exit a Plane Ever” rating.

(So married.)