Chapter 31
THE GUEST ROOM DILEMMA
A few days before Christmas, Barry’s little sister Chloe decided she would take him up on his invitation to spend Christmas with him since the flight from LA to Utah was shorter than the one from LA to Toronto.
I picked at my thumb while Barry got ready for bed, unsure how to bring up what I’d been thinking about since he told me she’d be coming to town.
In the bathroom, Junior meowed at Barry’s feet, loudly begging for food even though I fed him forty minutes before, and Barry sang one of the Justin Bieber Christmas songs that Kate and I had been playing on repeat.
“Hey, should I stay in the guest room while your sister is here?” I asked, aiming for casual.
Barry’s shirtless upper half appeared in the door frame as he patted moisturizer into his face. One of his old teammates had been really into Korean skincare and Barry had picked up some tips.
“And she takes our bed?” he asked.
“No, she’d take another guest room—you have like five—”
“Two.”
“Fine, two. She would take one, I would take the other, and you would take your bed.”
He frowned, like I said something very confounding. He clicked off the bathroom light and came all the way into the bedroom. Junior jumped onto the foot of the bed and lay down like the conversation was quite interesting.
“Why would I do that?” Barry asked.
“Because we don’t want her to get the wrong idea?”
“That being?”
That this is permanent.
“That we’re together,” I said.
Barry pointedly said nothing, but climbed behind me on the bed, legs on either side of mine, and pulled me back against his chest. I sighed and let myself lean back into him. He lifted my belly, relieving some of the weight from my back, and I sighed. He knew how to trap me in place.
“Let her think what she wants. If she asks, I’ll just tell her your pregnancy has turned you into a sex fiend and I’m being a good roommate.
” I elbowed him, and he puffed a laugh on my neck before kissing the spot.
“I’ll tell her you’re my good luck charm and the fate of the Utah Raptors’ season rests on you sleeping next to me and drooling on my pillow. ”
“I don’t drool,” I said, though I totally did. “And I don’t know you to be so superstitious.”
He reeled back.
“You don’t think I’m superstitious?”
I blinked, thinking about it, then shrugged.
I knew what I’d read about his OCD when it was really bad, but I also had read tons of things about weird superstitions across the league—putting on gear in the exact sequence without wavering, wearing the same pair of socks, game day rituals held sacred—but so far as I could tell, Barry didn’t seem stressed about those.
“I used to be pretty set on maintaining my routines. I wasn’t well-adjusted when I started playing professionally.
For instance, I thought basically any mess in my apartment meant that I’d have a bad game,” Barry said, and held me a little tighter as he did.
I thought of the clips and pictures I’d seen of Barry when he was fresh out of college, a young star who didn’t look as tortured as he felt.
“I guess it’s proof the therapy works if you didn’t think I was superstitious. ”
“It must be a torture living at my house,” I mused. Of course I took notice of his tidiness, the organization—he was meticulous. It was his way. But he never seemed bothered by my general mess.
“It’s good for me,” Barry said.
“What, dysregulating your nervous system?”
“Baby’s gonna do that anyway, might as well get a head start.” Barry pressed loud kisses up and down my neck, and I squirmed.
“I’m sorry if my mess did something to your game.”
“It didn’t. I want to be like you.”
“Chaotic?”
“You’re not chaos, I think you’re brave.
” It was my turn to give an incredulous sound.
“You are! I’ve been rigid in my routines, meals, fitness, everything for years.
It’s because it’s what I’m good at. I’ve always thought if I can get things down to muscle memory it will take chance out of the equation.
I don’t generally want to take risks. You’re creative, deciding you want to learn something and then just learning even if you’ve never done it before.
Like carpentry, you’re basically a carpenter at this point. ”
“Come on,” I tried, because a few shelves and some wainscoting did not a carpenter make, but he shushed me.
“It’s admirable. You probably don’t know how to lay tile, but within a couple of months, I bet you’ll learn, and you’ll be good at it too.”
“I guess that’s true.” I watched enough tile installation videos that I did kind of feel like Kate and I could tackle it in a weekend.
“It is, thank you.” Barry pulled my shirt’s wide collar to the side and kissed my bare shoulder before replacing it. “Now please keep staying in our bed.”
“Your bed.”
He didn’t say anything, but I could just sense one eyebrow quirked up as he waited for me to relent.
Because I’m weak, I did.
“Fine. I’ll stay.”
“Yesss.”
“But only because I’ve already vowed to never part with this mattress again so long as we both shall live.”
“You and me?”
“No, me and the mattress,” I quipped, and he tackled me sideways and play wrestled until we were both giggling.
Chloe’s flights were delayed for hours, meaning that she got in well after one in the morning.
I had work and Barry had practice early, so we were both asleep when she let herself into the apartment and promptly knocked out in the guest room.
I saw her shoes by the door when we left in the morning, cute sneakers still crispy white.
She was up in the kitchen when I came back without Barry five hours later, and Chloe startled to see me come in.
“Oh, I…” She looked over my outfit, the blue janitorial jumpsuit stretched over my stomach, rolled up to the elbows. “Sorry, Barry didn’t say anyone would be here today.”
I raised my eyebrows, trying to figure out what she meant—I heard Barry say to her on the phone last night that I’d be here during the day.
Then it clicked: my jumpsuit. Chloe thought I was there to clean.
I cracked a smile, couldn’t help it.
“I’m Hannah,” I said. “The, uh—”
Chloe’s eyes went wide, mortification written on her tired face. “Oh my God. Right.” She came from around the island, embarrassed. She brought me into a hug, tight like her mom. A whole family of huggers.
“Of course. I’m sorry, I saw the uniform and—”
“It’s okay, really.”
“I should have known that a pregnant woman coming into my brother’s home was his—well, I’m sorry. I’m Chloe.”
“Good to meet you, Chloe. I think you’re Barry’s favorite sibling, which is impressive because there’s like fifteen of you.”
“Five really does feel like fifteen sometimes. But I have special privileges being the only girl and the youngest.”
“Princess of the family. I like it.” I propped a hand on my hip and then recoiled when I caught a sniff of my underarms. It was a sweaty one this morning because I finished early and helped Tara clean the cold and hot tubs.
“I have to shower, but Barry made a bunch of breakfast things in the fridge. Please do make yourself at home.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
I skirted past her and feared that me telling Chloe to make herself at home would leave almost as wrong a message as me sharing a room, but I supposed what they said about being in for a dime, in for a dollar was true.
I showered and changed into a pair of sweatpants and one of Barry’s Raptors sweatshirts before returning to the kitchen where Chloe was halfway through one of the breakfast bowls from the fridge. I grabbed the container of chia pudding and a banana, then smiled at her from across the island.
“How was the flight?” I asked. “Dumb question, it was very delayed and horrible, right?”
Chloe nodded. She was wildly beautiful, a round face and perfectly plump lips. Her eyes were dark brown, and her nose like Barry’s if it hadn’t been broken multiple times.
“I’m sorry again for assuming.”
“It’s alright,” I assured. “I am actually a janitor, so that part is true.”
Chloe’s mouth made an O shape, her surprise at this news evident.
“Barry didn’t tell you?” I asked. She closed her mouth and shook her head.
“I suppose he didn’t mention that, no.”
“I work at the practice facility,” I explained. “That’s actually how he found me again.”
The gears in Chloe’s brain were turning, new details orienting her to brother’s very pregnant not-girlfriend living in his big, expensive, downtown condo.
I knew already that Chloe was as lovely as Gen, but I was pleased to note she was wary of me too. I could read it in her eyes after this revelation.
This made me like her immediately—finally someone in the Wright family that worried Barry was being too nice to a random janitor claiming to be the mother of his child.
That this was true was neither here nor there, some skepticism could do this family right.
They are rich as hell, after all. They should maybe be more wary of people, like as a default.
Well, Barry was rich, and I suppose his parents were well enough off on account of the surgeon situation, but I couldn’t speak to the relative wealth of Chloe.
“If you’re thinking it sounds suspicious, I know,” I said.
“I—”
I raised my eyebrows knowingly, and Chloe’s shoulders slumped a little.
“Okay yeah, maybe it sounds a little conveniently coincidental, actually.”
“Yeah,” I laughed and took a bite of the blueberry chia pudding that Barry made for me this weekend. He got food at the facility each day, healthy snacks from coolers or fresh food cooked by the nutritionists, but he still made these for me. Said one of the chefs even gave him the recipe.
“I met Barry at your brother’s comedy show. I had no idea who Barry was.”
“Really?” This appeared somehow more shocking than me being a janitor, though I suppose she would think he was as famous as he was, especially if she grew up watching hockey.
“Yeah, I didn’t know anything about hockey.
It was a surprise. Well, this was a surprise too.
” I pointed at my stomach, and she gave a tentative smile.
Her eyes lingered briefly on my stomach, looking almost excited.
I shouldn’t have been surprised—the baby would be her niece as much as she would be to my siblings’.
“I can solemnly vow I have no nefarious intentions with your saint of a brother.”
“So you guys are like, together then?” Chloe asked.
“No, not really.”
“You moved in, though?”
My eyes lit up.
“Barry didn’t tell you about the mold?”
Chloe leaned on the counter toward me, full attention on me. “He hasn’t told me many things, it seems.”
I grinned and licked my spoon. “It’s because Barry did something very sneaky.”
After sitting on the couch with Chloe for an hour, I could say with authority that she was as much of a delight as her mother, and very funny.
She told me about her job in LA, how life in California is fun and exciting but can be lonely too, how sometimes when she spent Christmas with their other siblings, she felt like she was behind.
“More behind Scotty and his comedy?” I asked.
“Sometimes!” Chloe laughed and then groaned. “At least he has hobbies.”
The front door beeped before Barry stepped inside, bag slung over his shoulder.
Chloe pushed off the couch immediately to hug him, and Junior jumped off my lap to rub on his ankles too.
Barry hugged his sister, then came and squeezed my shoulder, refraining from what had become his usual greeting, which was much too handsy for polite company.
“I got you a jersey for the game tomorrow,” Barry told Chloe.
“Did you get it for Dupont? Best player on the team.”
“You are evil.” He glared and pointed at her. “Hearing this, Hannah? And you think your siblings are cruel.”
Any worry I had about the game with Chloe that night being awkward was forgotten when we sat down with our twin sodas and she immediately said, “Who are the top three hottest guys on the team, not including my brother? I’m going to start strong with Coach Gaines.”
“Great choice, and underrated.” I nodded and pretended to think about my first answer, as if Kate and I hadn’t already closed the loop on this question at a game last month and revisited it semiweekly with updated rankings.
“Gross because he’s your brother, I know, but Barry is the hottest guy on the team, objectively, by a country mile.
But I’m going to say O’Neil, Kozlov, and Nilson. ”
“Oh my God, O’Neil? He’s a tool,” she said.
“He is?” I quite liked O’Neil at the Christmas party, not to mention he was always very friendly when he saw me at the practice facility, calling me by name, even before he knew his teammate was the father of my child. He seemed great.
“Yeah, he’s a player, haven’t you seen?”
“Guess not.” I shrugged and looked out to where they were warming up on the ice. Barry caught my eye and waved, the usual goofy smile on his face. “Player or not, he’s fast as hell and leads in assists on the team.”
Wow. Two months of knowing a thing about hockey and I was already talking like Jeremy. I was proud of my progress, honestly.
“You’re right,” she said, but glared at where O’Neil skated circles around a stretching Barry, handling the puck under Barry’s legs and probably cracking jokes.
It had become their routine, the young captain glomming onto Barry immediately after the trade.
The way Chloe looked at O’Neil, I swore there was history there, but I wasn’t gonna press.
“Have you thought about names for the baby yet?” she asked.
I grinned and allowed the subject change.