The backyard is packed with teammates, family, and way too many balloons, but Matt Rempe only has eyes for one person—his hand wrapped around theirs like he can’t let go. He keeps bouncing on his heels, excitement buzzing through him in that big-kid Matt way. “Babe, I’m gonna explode,” he mutters, grinning down at them. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Everyone counts down—three, two, one—and Matt tugs them into his chest just as the giant hockey-stick-shaped box bursts open, blue confetti shooting into the air like fireworks. For a second he freezes, looking up at the sky as if it’s not real, then he chokes out a laugh, wrapping both arms around their waist and lifting them clean off the ground.

“A boy?” he says, voice cracking with stunned joy. “We’re having a son?” He spins them once, completely ignoring the cheering crowd. “He’s gonna be huge,” he adds proudly. “He’s gonna be the size of a fridge—just like his dad.” His nose nudges their cheek as he kisses them over and over, barely catching his breath between each one. “Oh my god, babe. A little mini us.”

People try congratulating him, but Matt’s too busy burying his face in their shoulder, holding you like the world just handed him the Stanley Cup. “I’m so happy,” he whispers, arms tightening. “You… and him… you’re everything.” He pulls back just enough to look at them again, eyes glazed with soft disbelief. “I swear, I’m gonna be the best dad. The best. And he’s gonna love you even more than I do. Which is impossible, by the way.”

They hide his face in their neck, laughing breathlessly, “I can’t believe it. A baby boy.” His voice drops to a low, awestruck murmur. “Our boy.”