They land at YVR on three hours of sleep and matching black wedding bands they're trying to hide under sleeves and lies.
Hudson's childhood home in West Vancouver is a cedar-and-glass palace that smells like lemon cleaner, hockey gear, and maternal judgment. His mom, Colleen (ex-figure skater turned Pilates tyrant), opens the door in Lululemon and an expression that could freeze the Pacific.
"Hudson James."
"Hi, Mom."
She looks at Connor. Then at Hudson's left hand that he's definitely not hiding behind his back. Then back at Connor.
"You have thirty seconds to explain before I call your father down from the golf simulator."
Hudson's dad is a 6'5" ex-pro boxer turned pediatrician. He once made a rookie cry by saying "bless your heart" in Canadian.
They're screwed.
Colleen has prepared a full Scottish breakfast because "trauma needs calories."
Hudson's little brother Finn (14, feral, already has a TikTok following for fighting people in parking lots) is live-streaming from under the table. Dad walks in wearing golf gloves and zero chill.
"So," he says, sitting at the head of the table like it's an interrogation room. "Engaged."
Hudson chokes on bacon. Connor, who has faced 100-mph slapshots without flinching, is sweating through his hoodie.
Colleen: "We saw the driveway proposal. The entire neighborhood saw it. Mrs. Chen across the street asked if she should book the synagogue or the church."
Hudson: "We haven't decided if we're having a wedding or just eloping before someone murders us."
Dad: "Good. Eloping is cheaper."
Finn from under the table: "Can I be best man? I have a sword."
Colleen grabs Hudson's hand like she's appraising diamonds.
"Black tungsten. Simple. Tasteful. Connor, you picked this?"
Connor, voice cracking: "Actually my nana gave them to us."
Colleen's eyes soften for the first time all day. "That's sweet. Terrifying, but sweet."
Colleen sets tea down like she's serving a warrant.
"So. Grandchildren."
Hudson sprays orange juice across the table. Connor goes full statue.
Colleen: "I'm just saying, you're not getting any younger, and I have a Peloton to pay off."
Dad, without looking up from his phone: "We have five bedrooms and a finished basement. Plenty of room for cribs."
Hudson: "We've been together officially nine days!"
Colleen: "You've been eye-fucking each other for five seasons. That's practically common-law in Canada."
Connor makes a strangled noise that might be agreement or a cry for help. Dad decides the boys need "guy time" and drags them to the garage to see Hudson's old junior hockey trophies.
The second the door closes, Dad turns around.
"I like him," he says. "He looks at you like you hung the moon. But if he hurts you I will fold him into a pretzel and mail him back to Toronto in pieces."
Then he hugs Connor so hard something in his spine pops.
Connor wheezes, "Understood, sir."
They're supposed to stay for dinner and board games. They last forty-five minutes. Finn keeps trying to show them thirst edits of them set to Chappell Roan. Colleen keeps circling back to sperm donors vs. surrogates.
Dad starts googling "legal wedding age in Denmark."
At 4:12 p.m. Hudson fake-yawns and says, "We have that NHL charity thing tonight—"
Colleen: "You have a charity thing in my guest room if you think you're leaving before I get pictures."
She makes them pose in front of the fireplace. Hudson in Connor's arms, Connor's chin on his head, both of them wearing the rings proudly now because what's the point of hiding anymore.
She takes 47 photos.
Then she cries and then Dad cries.
Then Finn yells, "Group hug!" and tackles them all.
Hudson is staring at the ring like it might disappear. Connor is white-knuckling the steering wheel.
Hudson: "We're really doing this."
Connor: "We really are."
Hudson: "My mom already bookmarked fertility clinics."
Connor: "My nana already called the Vatican to reserve a chapel."
Hudson laughs so hard he has to pull over. Connor climbs into his lap in the front seat of a rented Audi like it's normal. They make out like teenagers until a minivan full of soccer kids pulls up and starts honking and filming.
That night – charity gala at the Vancouver Convention Centre.
They walk the red carpet wearing the rings openly now.
Interviewer: "So the rumors are true?"
Connor lifts Hudson's hand, kisses the ring. "Very."
The internet explodes again.
Someone in the crowd yells, "Kiss!"
They do. With tongue. On the jumbotron.
Again.
The NHL's head of PR is on vacation in Fiji and has turned his phone off. Smart man.
Tomorrow: joint skills-competition practice in Montreal.
The league has officially entered them in the "Hardest Shot" and the "Accuracy Shooting" events at All-Star Weekend.
They're also entered in a brand-new charity event someone drunkenly suggested:
"Fastest Lap While Carrying Your Fiancé."
They're favored to win. They're also favored to get arrested for public indecency.