14. Othelia
Chapter fourteen
Othelia
“Come on, baby girl,” I say, bouncing around the kitchen, waiting for the bottle to warm. “It’s nearly ready!”
You’d think after three weeks of living with Rian and helping take care of Layla, I would be used to this by now, but I still feel like I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
She calms down with Rian, but I swear even at seven weeks old, she knows I’m not Sloane; that I can’t possibly compare to the amount of love and patience the woman emanated.
“Fuck it, close enough.” Re-adjusting her in my arms, I pull the bottle from the warmer. I wince as she screeches like a banshee until I bring it closer to her mouth. “Maybe you have inherited something from your auntie.”
I laugh to myself as I make my way through Rian’s modern kitchen. The open floor plan filled with gray and deep charcoals makes the room feel cozy despite the size.
I walk over to the couch and cross my legs underneath me as I sit on the massive modular sofa with Layla in my arms. As assistant captain, Rian is often having the team over for meals or to view game footage, so the over-sized furniture serves its purpose to fit, quite literally, an entire hockey team.
Layla nuzzles into me as she softly suckles on her bottle, closing her delicate eyes, finding the comfort she desperately needs. For a few minutes, I bask in the quiet, trying to take a moment and enjoy the warmth and love she offers me, just like Sloane would.
I’m just beginning to scroll through my emails, ignoring the ones from my manager, when the front door opens and Rian walks in with Marcus Dupont, captain of the Chicago Hellhounds. His face lights up when he sees me.
“Hey Tilly. How’s it going?” he asks while dropping onto the sofa next to me. Leaning over, he strokes Layla’s cheek. “And hey there, sweet thing.”
“Oh, you know, I think she hates me five percent less today. She especially loves me when it’s time for food and she can ignore me for the next thirty minutes.” Laughing, I hold her out for Rian as he drops his gear and makes his way over to us.
“She doesn’t hate you,” he says, taking her from my arms. She instantly nuzzles into his chest.
I raise my eyebrow. “OK, hate might be extreme, but I’m definitely well below her love for the swing.” I point at the monstrosity of a baby swing my mother purchased while Sloane was pregnant.
Sloane face-timed me when it was delivered not believing the price tag. That’s my mother, though: throwing money at problems she didn’t want to emotionally involve herself in.
Rian’s body shakes with laughter and Marcus just about chokes on water.
“How was training?” I ask, leaning forward and grabbing my mug of coffee. I take a mouthful and realize it’s been over an hour since I made it and it’s stone cold. I put it back down on the coffee table and adjust my position back onto the sofa.
“Yeah, good, team seems to be really gelling,” Marcus replies. “We have a few issues to work out before Friday night’s away game, but hopefully we can get out shit together for tomorrow night’s game. Will be better when my number two gets back on the ice.” He looks over at Rian before standing, grabbing my mug, and walking off to the kitchen. The gurgling sound of the coffee machine begins.
“Hey, you’re only number one while I’m off the ice, so enjoy it while it lasts,” Rian calls out.
A chuckle comes from the direction of the kitchen and a minute later Marcus strides back into the lounge, holding out a steaming mug of fresh coffee for me. “Hey man, I don’t see a C on your jersey.”
I eagerly take the mug and bring it to my nose so I can inhale the caffeine goodness. “If you weren’t already married to your stunning wife, we would be soul mates.” I take a large mouthful of the nectar of the gods, closing my eyes and letting the warmth settle through me.
“Ha, I remember my wife after the twins were born. I swear she was made of ninety-seven percent coffee by the end of the first year.” Marcus sat back down on the sofa, stretching out his incredibly toned legs.
“So, you guys think you’re a shoe-in for the cu—” I’m cut off by Marcus’ big hand covering my mouth and Rian shushing me from the other side of the room. My eyes go wide and I throw my free hand up in surrender, trying to balance the steaming mug with the other. “Sorry, sorry. I won’t mention it.”
“Jeez, the last thing we need is you jinxing us.” Hockey players and their superstitions. Note to self: add Do not mention chances of winning the Stanley Cup to the list of unmentionables.
My phone rings next to me. I pick it up, my heart sinking at the name on the screen. I reject the call and place it face down on the sofa.
Rian gives me a knowing look. “He’s still trying to call you?”
“Yeah, every few days I get a call or some texts. He wants us to try again, saying we can work it out. That he knows I need time to get over it and come back to him.”
Anger flashes across Rian’s face and Marcus tenses, seeing his reaction. “I swear to God, Tilly, if you take him back—”
“I’m not. There is no way I could ever look at him the same. He broke my fucking heart, Rian. I’m not a total fucking idiot. Despite what our mother says.”
His eyes soften, knowing he overstepped. “I’m sorry, Til, you know I didn’t mean that. I just don’t want to see him hurt you again. You barely survived it last time and now…” Sadness washes over him. He doesn’t have to say it. Sloane isn’t here to help me pick up all the pieces.
“I know, I’m sorry too.” I give him a small smile.
Marcus, sensing the need for a change of topic, jumps in, bringing up last night’s game and successfully distracting Rian.
Excusing myself, I walk upstairs, slowing as I pass the double doors to the master suite. Rian hasn’t slept in there at all since I moved in, instead choosing to set up either on the sofa in Layla’s room or on the den with her bassinet next to him.
My hand coasts along the banister as memories of Sloane in labor flood me. I know Rian felt like she was fearless, and most of the time she was, but those few hours before Layla came was the first time I had ever seen her second guess herself.
Although, that had only lasted until Layla’s arrival. The second she was placed in her arms, Sloane glowed.
She is going to move mountains. She’s perfect.
Tears gloss over my eyes, sniffling. I rub my palms into my eyes before placing a hand on the closed bedroom door.
“She will move mountains, Sloane. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
Making my way to the guest bedroom I now call home, I take one last look at the closed doors before shutting my own and collapsing onto the bed.
My phone wakes me from my impromptu nap. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I take a few seconds to re-orientate myself. The vibration on the bed catches my attention. I unlock it and cringe at the messages on the screen. I know I should just block him, but part of me just can’t bring myself to sever that last connection.
Douche Canoe
I need to see you, T. It’s been so long. I need you.
How long is it going to take for you to get the hell over this?
I’ll be waiting when you come to your senses andrealize you need me.
Groaning, I toss it back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Even though most of the time I know I’m not overreacting, sometimes the doubt creeps in, making me feel responsible, or at least partly, and I hate myself for trying to justify his mistakes. Even when I know I had nothing to do with his choices, but God… I’m so fucking lonely.
I miss my band. Miss the life I had eight weeks ago. I miss the loving boyfriend I thought I had. And most of all, I miss my best friend. Even as I feel her all around me, there isn’t a section of this house she hasn’t placed her mark on; the same for the people she met.
Sometimes in life we are lucky enough to come across someone who changes our lives. After meeting them, you just know you can’t imagine living your life without that person. Sloane was my person, but now after experiencing her warm, all-encompassing light, we have to learn to live in the after; and the after is dark and lonely.
Making my way downstairs, I scan the lounge room but can’t see Ri, Marcus, or Layla. Hearing the clashing of pans from the kitchen, I make my way towards the white arch that separates the hallway from the kitchen. I find Rian cutting up vegetables on the granite island, listening to the latest Hopeless Mercy album, while Layla sleeps peacefully in the rocket swing.
Noticing me enter, he points to the stool at the edge of the counter, telling me to sit. “Sloane really started something with your music. She settles so much easier when it’s playing.”
“Too bad she doesn’t realize she has the real thing right in front of her and instead spends her days screaming at me.” I look around the room and notice Marcus isn’t around. “Did Marcus have to go?”
“Yeah, apparently one twin stuck something in the other one’s nose.” He looks up at me, crinkling his nose. “I guess he needs to work out if it’s worth an ER trip or if he can get it out.” He shrugs, pausing his cutting to look up at me, eyes wide. “Is that what I have to look forward to?”
I let out a laugh. “Well, there is only one of her, so I guess you only need to worry about her shoving things up her own nose.” Leaning over the counter, I steal a slice of carrot and pop it into my mouth. “Or yours.” Chuckling, I sit back onto the kitchen stool. “Need any help?”
“Nah, I’m okay, just making a stir-fry. Is that cool with you?”
“Of course. Food I don’t have to cook is always welcome!” I steal another carrot and Ri makes a fake attempt at trying to swat my hand away.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
“You know you can.”
He stops cutting and puts the knife down next to the chopping board. “I spoke with Coach and the GM today.”
My eyes widen. “Yeah?” I wiggle on the stool, attempting to make myself more comfortable.
Rian leans back against the cabinets. “They wanted to know when I can make a full-time return to the ice. I’ve been training with the guys most days but they want me back in games. The first line is lagging without me. They understand my situation and are happy to support me, but would rather it be sooner than later.” He runs his hand through his hair and places his hands on either side of him. “Honestly, Til, I think I need it. Hockey has always been my place. I think I need something to help me feel grounded, you know.”
“Yeah I get that. I think it would be really good for you to get back out and do what you love. Find a new routine.” I look into his eyes. “Moving on is not forgetting about her, Ri. You need to find a way to live in this life without her. As much as that fucking sucks, she wouldn’t want you to give up what you love.”
“It really fucking sucks.” He walks to the fridge and continues to pull out ingredients, placing them on the counter. He turns back to me, eyes rimmed red, blowing out a slow breath. “I wasn’t meant to do this without her, any of it. Hockey, Layla. She was the light at the end of the tunnel. No matter where I was, or how crazy life got, she guided me back home.” He pushes his palms into his eyes, trying to push the tears back in.
“She always knew exactly what to say. I could be having the worst day and she would look at me dead in the face and spout off some random fact about elephants that would have absolutely zero relevance to the situation, but still be exactly what I needed.” He laughs at the memory and I smile at all the random Sloane facts I've heard over the years.
“Do you remember our first album tour? The very first show, I spent the half an hour leading up to call time backstage having a panic attack. I couldn’t get it out of my head that I was going to step on stage and the entire crowd was going to boo and throw things at us.”
Rian chuckles, stroking the stubble on his chin, and a small smile brightens his face. He steps forward, gathering the chopped vegetables and throwing them into the waiting wok as he listens.
“The next thing I knew, the door flew open and I saw Sloane’s hair whipping in the breeze. She stood there like fucking Wonder Woman. She walked right up to me, I’m pacing, puffing away, struggling for breath and began repeatedly tapping me at different points. My eyebrow, the side of my eye, under my eye,” I recite while following the locations, tapping my fingers as I go. “My chin, collarbone, under my arm. Then she stares me dead in the face, while still tapping and says, ‘Did you know the Eiffel Tower is fifteen centimeters taller in summer?’
“I just stared at her, stunned. She continued telling me all about thermal expansion as she grabbed my hand and walked me to the side of the stage. This massive info dump on kinetic energy causing the particles to expand and therefore making the Eiffel Tower taller in summer. Before I knew it, someone was handing me a microphone, and I was standing in the middle of the stage with the crowd cheering. I forgot about my anxiety and just performed. When I looked back, she was cheering and dancing in the wings. Singing so loud I felt like my heart was going to burst. It wasn’t until I got home that night that I realized she was calming me down and distracting me.”
Layla stirs in her swing, making cooing noises as I climb off the stool and walk over to her. I pick her up and snuggle her, tears threatening to spill from the memories.
Rian’s face falls. “I feel like I’m just stumbling around in the dark without her. I can’t see any light anymore.” I walk around to Rian’s side of the counter and hold out Layla wrapped in blankets, squirming her arms out and stretching.
“Your light is right here, Ri.” As he takes her in his arms, his face softens.
I take over sauteing and some time passes before we speak again. Rian’s lost in thought as he plays with Layla, cooing, talking to her and blowing raspberries on her tummy.
“Til, about going back…”
I look up from the pan at him, knowing what he’s about to ask.
“Can you stay with Layla while I’m gone? I don’t think I’m ready to trust a random stranger with her yet. I promise I'll get my shit together and organize a more permanent solution, but for now, can it be you?”
“Of course.”
Simple.
Rian and Sloane have been the only family to ever give a shit about me. I would move heaven and earth for them.
“Thanks, sis.” He goes to walk out of the room, carrying a babbling Layla.
I pick up the spatula and start dishing up dinner. Carrying two bowls, I follow him onto the sofa, then go back for two bottles of water. As I sit back on the sofa, he throws the remote at me with a nod.
“We will make it work, Tilly. A new routine.”
I nod back and settle on a comedy we’ve both watched a million times before. Relaxing back with my bowl, we fall into a comfortable silence. For the first time in weeks, I felt a little less alone.