Chapter 14
fourteen
. . .
Riley
I’ve never been to a hockey game before. Watched it on TV, sure, though not often. We didn’t have cable in our apartment, and until Al, I’d never known anyone involved in the sport.
Carter didn’t know he was an athlete when they hooked up, and once she got pregnant, she was content to forget the man who’d helped create her child.
He was only a guy in a bar. As she said once, his job was done, and she wanted nothing to do with him.
It wasn’t until she saw his post-trade goodbye video to the Arizona fans that she realized who he was and the implications of his career—and his access to resources we’d never be able to compete with.
Every day, my frustration with my sister increases as I see Al with Emmy, how much he loves her. She robbed him of so much in her selfishness. I understand she was scared, but he had every right to know he had a child, and it wasn’t her place to unilaterally cut him from Emmy’s life.
But I can’t focus on that. Carter is dead. All I can do is move forward.
Vanessa pulls up in her enormous luxury SUV, and I realize with a jolt it’s the same one Al bought for me.
We settle Emmy in the back seat beside Leo, and both babies let out screeches of delight at having a new friend.
When we get to the arena, she waves a pass and parks in the family parking structure with a valet.
“Thanks, Teddy,” she says, as a man helps take out both strollers from the trunk.
The man gives me a nod as I get Emmy into her chariot. We even have matching strollers, top of the line from a luxury brand.
Having grown up with everything secondhand, never getting anything new and shiny, I’m glad Emmy doesn’t have to know that life. The little princess will be spoiled and I’ll enjoy every moment of it.
Vanessa leads me into the arena, the temperature immediately dropping several degrees.
I shiver in my puffy down coat. Everyone says the key to staying warm is layers, but as soon as I enter a building with the heat on, I start sweating.
How do people deal with this? Life in Arizona didn’t prepare me for living in snow country.
Before he left, Al handed me a security badge to allow me into the behind-the-scenes areas.
I don’t have access to the locker room, but I can go pretty much anywhere else that the general public can’t.
We show our security badges and are waved through.
They rifle through the diaper bag, but we’re not limited to the little clear bag policy.
“We’ll drop off our stuff and then head down to meet the girls,” she says, as we step into an elevator, and she presses the button for the eighth floor.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I admit.
She squeezes my arm, and her unwavering support helps soothe my nerves. She’s been nothing but kind since the moment we met. “You’ve got this.”
The suite is nothing like I expected. It’s huge, with a separate room screened off and a second area with cocktail tables and a bartender before the steps down to the plush leather seats.
A changing table takes up space in the corner, stocked with a ton of supplies, and a playpen sits next to it, with a shelf full of toys beside it. The second room is essentially a parking lot of strollers; there are already four of them.
Following Vanessa’s lead, I deposit my things and the diaper bag here, lifting Emmy into my arms. She’s still drowsy from the car nap, not quite ready for the day’s excitement. I fit the giant earmuffs onto her ears and she whines, but doesn’t try to take them off like she did her mittens.
She looks adorable in her little Boston Grizzlies jersey.
The back has Al’s number and DADDY on the crest. I found little black-and-gold booties to match, and she’s wearing a gold headband beneath her earmuffs.
I’m in a bedazzled black-and-gold Grizzlies sweatshirt with his name and number.
Vanessa has a matching one with Sven’s name.
Thank goodness she warned me this would essentially be a fashion show; I was ready to show up in jeans and a hoodie, my hair tied back in a ponytail.
Instead, I took the time to do my hair and makeup for the first time in way too long, and I feel almost like myself, if the old me was married to a hockey superstar.
We head down to the ice level, and Vanessa smiles and chats with the people we meet in the hallways. It makes sense; she works for the team, and she’s been with Sven for three years, so she knows basically everyone.
Downstairs, we run into Mel Easton and her two kids, and Audrey with her newborn.
There are a few other wives and partners I met at the baby-slash-wedding shower, and they nod and smile as they hold their kids up to the ice.
The biggest kid is about six, and the littlest one is baby Cora Henry, only two months old.
Vanessa perches Leo on the ledge where the boards connect to the glass, and he gives a squawk of delight, so I do the same with Emmy. Her chubby fists bang on the glass and she throws her head back with giggles.
“It’s contagious, isn’t it?” Bex says from behind me. I turn to see her standing beside Rachel Lewis, who’s hugely pregnant and clutching at her swollen belly while looking miserable.
“What’s contagious?” I ask, against my better judgment.
“The baby fever.” Bex smirks at me. She’s wearing a navy Austin Aces sweater and her wavy red hair is tied up in a sleek bun, tendrils falling loose. “Maybe you’ll be next.”
“I don’t know about that.”
That would require me and Al to be more than we are. I like what we have… for the most part. Is it lonely? Yes. Am I going to hook up with my husband because I’m in my feelings? No. I still have to live with the man. I won’t ruin our fledging friendship for a fling.
“We can still set you up with someone,” Vanessa sings, turning to face Bex with a teasing smirk. “Maybe… Nick Mitchell?”
Bex’s cheery smile drops in an instant. “No thanks.”
“Come on. You don’t know—”
“I do know, actually,” she says. “Not going there. Not again.”
Vanessa nods. “Okay. You know I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”
“And reliving the worst mistake of my life is not what’s best for me,” she says with finality. “Drop it. Please.”
“Consider it dropped,” Vanessa says. “Come hang out with your godson.”
Bex squirms between us, hip-checking the blonde as she reaches for the baby. “Come to Auntie,” she says, snuggling him. He goes into her arms willingly, his chubby cheeks pressed into her neck.
“It’s the best, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“Baby snuggles.”
Bex grins. “Yeah. Especially when I get to give him back at the end.”
I laugh. That’s what I used to say. I loved playing with Emmy, but I would hand her back to Carter for the diapers and dirty work.
Now, it’s all on me. And, well, Al too. But with his practice and game schedule, he’s barely home. Eighty percent of the childcare falls to me.
And I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I love Emmy. But I’m also losing sight of who I am as a person. I’m starting to feel like a babysitter and not like me.
Who am I? I don’t even know anymore.
There’s commotion at the other end of the ice, and Emmy squeals and bangs her hands on the glass as men in black and gold skate out of the chute.
The players take a few laps of the rink, skating by fast as lightning.
I can’t find Al, until a figure zooms up to us, skidding to a stop barely a foot from the glass.
He’s even taller on his skates, broader from the padding, and his helmet strap hangs loose. With all the gear on, he looks big and imposing, but he’s still the same goofy, kind man with a heart of gold. I thought he was good-looking in general, but on the ice… My husband is hot.
Emmy screams when she sees him, trying to break through the glass to get to him.
“Hey, baby,” he says, pressing his glove against the glass.
I move her hand to his, so they can touch through the inch-thick plexiglass barrier.
The smile that lights up his face nearly brings tears to my eyes. He’s so in love with her, and she adores him.
Another player skates up to us, then a second, and before I know it, all the fathers have joined us, saying hello to their children.
Seb Henry, one of the goaltenders, looks comical in his extra-large padding beside his two-month-old daughter. Sven Larsson is playing peekaboo with Leo, and Mark Easton is waving at his two kids, a huge smile on his face.
Al catches my eye, and his happy grin makes my heart pound. He pokes at the glass, as if he’s tickling Emmy in her belly, and she shrieks with giggles. She can’t hear anything, not with the ear protection, but he’s talking to her as if she can.
With the noise of the arena, I can’t quite make out his words, but it almost looks like he’s saying I love you.
He’s talking to Emmy, of course. Not to me. That wouldn’t make sense.
Still, my heart aches. The only person who’s ever said those words to me is Carter, and now she’s gone.
Al raises his eyebrows at me. Are you okay? he mouths.
I force a smile onto my face, but I can’t fool him. His brown eyes are so expressive, clearly calling me on my bullshit.
The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of warm-ups, and Al lifts his hand, blowing Emmy a kiss. My face heats. What if it were me he was kissing? What if what we had was real?
Vanessa nudges me, and I follow her lead as we head back to the suite. A few of the women have beaten us here, and as I settle Emmy on my lap, Bex sits next to me and hands me a glass of wine.
“You look like you need this,” she says with a grin.
“That obvious?” Taking it from her, I purse my lips at the mangoes, pear, and cantaloupe floating in the white wine before taking a sip.
Much to my surprise, the flavor is actually pretty decent, and the sharp taste of the alcohol is barely noticeable.
I take another, larger drink. This could be as dangerous as jungle juice.
“Hey, you survived. The photos will be adorable.”
The blood drains from my face. “Photos? What photos?”
She stares at me. “You mean you didn’t notice the team photographer?”
“No…” My eyes fall to my ring. It’s simple, an eternity band of small diamonds. Will they wonder why I don’t have an engagement ring? Did our interactions look real enough? What if the social worker sees the photos and decides I’m a bad influence and not fit to be Emmy’s mom?
Bex places her hand on my arm, squeezing. “Breathe. It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“Everything is fine,” she whispers. “Just breathe.”
“What if they take Emmy away from me?” My heart breaks just thinking of it, and I hug her tighter, breathing in her sweet baby scent.
“They won’t. Nobody’s going to take that kid from you,” she insists. “You’re her mom now.”
“I—” My throat feels thick, like I can’t swallow. I can’t get enough air.
“You’re her mom, and Gonzo’s her dad, and you guys are married.
Nobody is going to take a baby away from her parents, especially not two people who love her as much as you do.
” Bex squeezes my arm again. “Everything is going to be fine. People bring babies to hockey games every day. Sometimes, they even sit in the stands.”
I stare at her, unseeingly. “But what if—”
“You love her, and he loves her, and nobody is mistreating her. There have never been two people who love her as much as you do. Everything is going to be fine.”
I want to believe her. I do. But there’s something in the pit of my stomach telling me this was a terrible idea.