J.

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Love isn't defined by one specific interaction or emotion. There's no rule book on it. No to-do list to make sure you're doing it right. Don't bother trying to Google "how to make all the right moves while in love." That shit just doesn't exist. Nor do the warning signs about how scary it is. How it's messy, never to the point, and firsthand, it makes people crazy. But then again, if it doesn't, then you're probably not in love.

Let's not get me started on the types. Because there's not just one type of love. There's infinite love. Short-lived love. There's love that's so powerful, it hurts. So consuming you struggle to understand its beauty. It can be unexpected and confusing. The love you feel the moment your paths cross at a young age, or love that comes with a lot of struggle, time, and ups and downs before presenting the beauty of itself. But all types lead to a love that's beautiful, passionate, and worthwhile.

My love story didn't come all wrapped up in a neat pretty bow. It wasn't your perfect, storybook material. My love got so messy, it should have come with a cleaning kit. To say it was a bit turbulent at times was an understatement. I thought I knew so much about the four-letter word. Boy, was I wrong.

When I wrote Love Broken, I wrote it for the people who needed a lesson on real love. Little did I know I was one of them. Maybe those people who came through that bar knew about love, just needed to understand the importance of it. That sometimes when times get tough, don't give up on it. When you feel like you will never have a real shot at it, just remember you are worth the love you're looking for. Maybe… just maybe, those cheesy pickup lines are some people's way of trying and hoping to find it.

As they say, ignorance was bliss. And that's the name tag I wore for a while after the book. Because I wasn't any better at being able to define what it was, than anyone else was. All I knew was that everyone deserves it. That not a single person will have the same love as the other. Each definition of it will differ. Not everyone loves the same way. And that's okay.

I accepted Lisa's love and vowed not to diagnose it. I would never be able to compare it to anything else. Because her love wasn't from a how-to book. It was built just for me. I didn't want to compare stories and have someone tell me "their love did the same thing." I wanted our days and nights, our talks and experiences to be ours. And with that said, I stopped analyzing love.

I threw in the towel and decided I was going to ride out the one I had. And no, I don't mean that kind of riding-it-out. At least not in this context. Because lots of riding since that day has been had.

Lisa Manoban made me see love for what it truly was. Flawed and beautiful. She proved to me that the oldest saying in the book may have had some truth to it. That opposites do attract. Because goddammit, us together, we were destined for an amazing life.

She also taught me the most important attribute of the four-letter word. And that was trust. She made me promise that day that no matter what bumps we hit, I would do one thing, and that was to trust in her. In us that the love we had would beat it. No matter what the obstacle. And with a shed of unstoppable tears, I promised.

It's been five years and that promise is going strong. Because so is our love. Lisa Manoban gave me something I never thought I was destined for. A life where my heart and soul felt completely full. I won't deny that it gets overwhelming at times. Because if anything, Lisa Manoban is a lot to handle. When you have someone who thinks her destiny is to make you feel safe and jam-packed with endearments, I won't deny that sometimes I want to jam one of her hockey pucks in her mouth. The smile I provide just thinking of the exact memory.

"Lisa, seriously, stop!" I scream, trying to run around the couch to avoid her hands. "If you don't stop tickling me, I'm going to murder you!" A simple demand that if she didn't stop telling me how beautiful I was, I was going to shove her hockey puck down her throat. Last week it was up her ass. I was running out of places to threaten to shove it.

Another dodge, as she reaches over, trying to grab me. "You wouldn't. Who would rub your feet?"

"Lily. She's old enough to understand the word rub." Lisa laughs and dashes to the right, trying to catch me.

I dodge another large hand as I take a swift right and dash it down the hallway. I start to scream because I can hear her laughter and feet right behind me. I know I don't stand a chance.

I barely make it through the threshold of our bedroom, before I'm up and cradled in her arms. "Lisa! Don't, please. You're gonna make me pee myself again!"

"Well, we wouldn't want that, babe, now, would we?" She kisses my forehead and places me in her lap and sits down on our gigantic king-sized bed. She brushes my hair out of my face, smiling at the scowl I'm holding. "Now, now. Why the face?"

"Because I told you to stop calling me beautiful."

"I can't do that. I think you're a sight, always."

I scowl again, wanting to cry. "I'm not. I'm ugly and huge."

Lisa lifts her hand, caressing my belly. "You have never been more beautiful to me. And as much as you threaten me, I'm not staying quiet about it." Just then Lisa starts yelling.

"I have the most beautiful wife! I love my beautiful, perfect, pregnant, grouchy wife!"

I use my elbow to nudge her in the ribs. It's mid fall, but due to the crazy weather, we have all our windows open. Mr. Bigsley, the neighbor, is outside picking at his garden.

"Seriously, Lisa. Shut up. The windows are open!"

"Mr. Bigsley! Did you know that my wife is the most amazing person ALIVE!"

I give another elbow to her chest again, but Lisa just laughs it off. Mr. Bigsley just shakes his head and goes back to tending to his garden.

"Stop. Please."

Her eyes are always so tender when she looks at me. "I can't. Because you are. And I will keep telling you until we're old and wrinkling and my tongue falls out."

I go for a third nudge, but this time she smartens up and catches my elbow. She lifts my arm and kisses the inside of my upper arm, then my forearm. One soft press to the inside of my wrist, taking my hand and placing it over her heart.

"You have it workin' extra hard today."

"And why's that?" I ask, choking on my out of whack emotions.

"Because you're in my arms."

I laugh. "Lisa, I'm always in your arms. You never leave me alone."

"True, because you're addictive. But also, because you're mine and I still can't believe it."

I have to close my eyes and rein in my emotions. I've been extremely emotional lately, and I'm shocked she's willing to handle another "Jennie the cuckoo" breakdown.

"Well, it's your lucky day. I'm all yours. Every single mood swing," I reply.

She takes her hand and rubs at my gigantic belly. "I hope she's just like you."

"You mean you want another Lily? So she can debate that grass should be inside?" Just the reminder of how I turned my back for a second and our four-year-old daughter dragged the bag of grass clippings inside and spread them all over our living room, smiling and telling us she "made outside."

"Well, I hope this one doesn't want to be a scientist. Having to teach this one about how the eggs in our fridge aren't actually baby chickens and watch her cry for four days was enough for me." At that we both laugh. Poor Lily and her toddler theories are going to be the end of us.

"I just want her to have your determination. Your beauty. Your fire."

Dammit, she has me on that one. My eyes begin to tear up, but of course, she's there to save the day, wiping away each tear. "You say all this as if you know it's going to be another girl."

Lisa bends down, pressing a kiss to my stomach. We both have our suspicions. I say girl and so does Lisa. My delightful mood swings all align with my pregnancy with Lily.

"Well, then if it's a boy, he's going to be handsome, with his mother's eyes hopefully, and he's going to be one hell of a hockey player."

We had a boy. Mario was born just hours before Lisa had to be on the ice, thankfully at a home game. We were all on pins and needles worried that I would have to deliver by myself. We got lucky with Lily since she was born on Lisa's off season. The birth was easy. Lisa cried like a baby. She also played the best game of her entire career that night.

Five years ago, I wrote a story about a girl who fought to understand love. She was so scared to let something so powerful in, knowing it had the potential to destroy her. But it was only when she almost lost it that she realized how much she truly needed it. Needed her. And it was the girl who captured her heart who saved her. Just when she thought she may have missed out on her own chance for that happily ever after, that girl showed her love doesn't just fade. Especially not for them. The girl showed her their love would mend the mistakes they made. Heal the hardships both have faced. It would also give her peace. And that girl was right.

Lisa and I worked out our differences. We talked and talked until there were no more secrets, insecurities, and questions about us and our future. I explained my hiatus and every single doubt I had festering inside me. I learned that while I was trying to find myself, Lisa was super busy. She had finally obtained a lawyer able to outsmart Rosé and clear herself of any wrongdoings with the league. She chose to come clean and confess, risking losing any spot with the NHL. But she said it was her only way to be free and clear of her. With the help of her lawyer, she paid a hefty fine and no wrongdoings were noted with the league. It seemed after further investigation, Lisa technically didn't accept anything. With her faulty memory and only the word of Rosé once sober, they came to learn Lisa didn't officially accept anything. It was Rosé. This left her free of Rosé l and her father.

What She told me next almost threw me off her lap. She went on to explain that she had a deal in the works for months now. When that schmuck at the signing mentioned a NHL deal, she was telling the truth. Lisa had officially signed on to play for the NHL. The 'throw me out of my seat' part of it? She signed with the Cleveland Barons. She told me that no matter how long it took me to come around she wanted to be close when I did. She also told me she passed on three other offers. Because hockey had become second on her list of importance, next to her number one. That one was me.

A lot has happened in the last five years. Reconciliation was just the beginning for us. Marriage. Two beautiful kids. Life was unstoppable for us. Lisa's dream was in full force. She was one of the top five best players in the NHL. When she was asked what made her so good, her answer always stayed the same. Because she did what she loved. Little did they know that saying had a double meaning. And every time her interviews were live, and she looked in the camera and said she "did what she loved," I would chuckle at my woman. Because in bed when it was just us, she would turn to me and tell me how much she loooved doing what she loved. If you haven't caught on, she loved doing me.

Lisa Manoban and her wit.

Within the last five years, I became part owner of Anchor. DK had been looking for a partner and I had nothing but love for the bar. I knew it inside and out, and it helped that I was also the best bartender. At first, I didn't go back to the bar. I needed to do something for myself first. I went back to school. Not to the whole college shebang. I took online classes and finally got my degree. I needed to do it to prove to myself that my life didn't need to end a certain way. I needed to prove to myself that even if my life didn't change that night that took my parents, I would have still landed exactly where I needed to be.

This also helped with the bar. I took over the books and business aspect. DK loved it because it was less on his plate, and I loved it because I was actually really good at it. Not to mention, as well as the bar has been prospering the past couple of years, as of two days ago, we just signed a lease for Anchor's Two. The second bar plans to open early next year.

In case you were wondering, I didn't end up having to do any time behind bars, walking out with any jailhouse tattoos for ditching out on the signings and my contract. Jisoo, bless her heart, was able to work out a deal. Bless my woman's heart because she was my ticket to freedom. It seems the Director of Romance Association was a huge Pranpriya fan. An even bigger Lisa Manoban fan. It's amazing what a signed autograph and season tickets will get someone out of. Two weeks of Hard Knox for me, apparently. Jisoo's career continued to blossom. She forgave my unstableness as I knew she would but made me promise one thing. To continue to be myself. Beautiful with a little bit of crazy.

Life couldn't have ended up any more perfect. Even though I hate that word. Because nothing in life is truly that way. Perfection will always be the downfall of everything. Every person who can't find the perfect love, the perfect job, the perfect life. Because, then you ask yourself, does perfect really exist? And if it did, would you want it?

And for the record, love is still broken. It's still flawed in so many ways, but with Lisa, it will always still be beautiful. She told me once in an argument, and yes, our imperfect marriage has them, the only thing that love will never do again is destroy us. We will always forgive, and we will always understand. Because love in the end will never let us down.

I told that to my parents' grave when I visited them right before my wedding. I told them how I got it. That I didn't need to find the same love as they had. Because no love is identical. But I found something that was irreplaceable. Because there was no one like Lisa Manoban in this world. My heart can attest to that.

I'm sure one thing you're dying to know is what came of my writing career. The last book I wrote was the start of my real life. When I truly started to live. I guess you would say the girl got me.

And that night, I knew there was no more denying the bond we shared. That unspoken feeling that's almost bigger than love. While I lay in Lisa's arms, listening to the constant beat of her heart. I asked her about her version of the story she told me and if it had a name.

Her reply?

"Yeah, it did, babe. I named it The Story of Us."

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THE END