Doug's never been a champagne kind of guy, not that he thinks there's anything wrong with that. Where he grew up, when he was playing hockey, it wasn't something that was ordered at the bar that often, and when it was, the taste had never done anything much for him.
Give him shots, occasionally. Although he knows after a certain night in the recent past that he almost remembers, it'll be a long time before he has any more tequila.
Give him a beer anytime.
Except for tonight.
Because tonight Doug Dorsey has an Olympics gold medal around his neck and a champagne flute in his hand and the fizz has never tasted better.
Doug knows part of this has to do with the fact that Jack's sprung for the Good Stuff - nothing else would be good enough for the Moseley clan, especially not after such a long wait, so many dashed hopes.
He also knows that it has a lot to do with the taste of victory, that long forgotten sweetener that makes everything sparkle a little brighter, taste a little better.
But he knows it mostly has to do with Kate.
His Kate now, finally, holding his hand and smiling up at him like she's got everything she ever wanted in life, and maybe she has.
Maybe he has too.
And when he leans down and kisses her, tastes the champagne on her lips, he knows he could get used to this for the rest of his life.