22. Liam
LIAM
A girl.
Chloe and I are having a girl.
Holy shit.
It’s been close to a month since we found out and I feel like I’ve been on a cloud ever since. And if she had told me that we were having a boy, I would be feeling the same way.
It’s not only the high from the baby. It’s also one from everything else happening in life, more specifically the Dark Knight being the number one team in the conference.
Yup, after so much hard work. The team not only is at the top of the division but the whole damn conference. Everyone has been on fucking fire, playing as if every single game has depended on it. At the rate that we are going we’ll have a spot in the postseason and have a chance at the cup.
This year feels different. This year feels like it is ours for the taking and we are not going to hold anything back.
And I’m not the only one feeling it. Everyone in the locker room feels it too.
Take tonight for example.
We’re about ten minutes away from face-offs and the whole damn room is electric.
It’s as if we all took a hit of something during warm up and all we want to do is hit the ice and show the other team what we are made of.
Music is blaring, people are getting in the zone. Tonight is one of those nights that feels like it’s going to be talked about by sports fans for years to come.
But because superstitions are very much real, I’ll keep that thought process to myself.
“You ready for tonight?” Christian comes over to me in full gear ready to go. He looks like an absolute beast with his skates on.
“Yup. Are you?” I ask, throwing on my game jersey.
“Feel like slamming a body against the boards tonight,” he says, letting out a grunt in the process.
Christian Rodrigues is what we like to call in the hockey world an enforcer. The dude is a goon on the ice and if anyone messes with our team, he’s there to put them in place.
If he’s feeling like fighting already, I know it’s going to be a good game.
“Just don’t do anything dirty.” I say, give the bastard a shove.
“Do I ever?” he says, giving me a smirk.
I roll my eyes at him. He very much does, especially when he’s had a bad day. I just have to hope that today is not one of those days.
After a talk from Coach and some motivational stuff from me, we make our way to the tunnel to get this game started.
Even before hitting the ice, we can feel the energy of the fans vibrate through the arena.
It’s as if we are projecting our energy to the fans without even knowing it.
“Alright boys, lets go kick some shark ass and get one step closer to the end game.” I yell out to the men behind me and pat our goalie who’s in front of me, in the back.
Grunts sound around me and the louder they get the more I feel like this game is going to be one for the books.
The doors open and the team makes its entrance.
Music blares from the speakers. Fans are chanting out our names, and skating to center ice feels fucking amazing.
Before getting into position, I look over to the seats right next to our bench and spot a beauty with curls at the top of her head and my name on her back.
I would never admit this to her but ever since she started coming to every one of my home games, I play ten times better. She’s my good luck charm and as long as she’s in the stands cheering us on, this team will go places. I can feel it.
I throw a smile in her direction and she gives me one back right before I get into position and wait for the puck to drop.
The second that the whistle sounds out and the puck hits the ice, I’m in the zone. And I stay in the zone until the Knights win the game four to one. One game closer to getting a chance to play for the cup.
Hopefully in a few months time I will have two things to celebrate.
My daughter and the Knights winning the Stanley Cup.
* * *
The second that I get home, I drop my bag and I start untying my tie. I should really start going without them, I hate the stupid things. But they are a part of the outfits I get every week from the Archwell stylist, so according to my contract I have to wear them.
Dropping the offensive material on the table by the door, I walk deeper into the apartment, looking for Chloe.
She left the after-game celebration early. She said that she felt tired and wanted to put her feet up. I offered to come home with her but she kept telling me to stay. After the tenth time, I finally listened to her and called her a car.
My eyes stayed glued to the app, watching her car move all the until she was back home. That was over an hour ago, so she might be sleeping already.
I’m about to go to bed myself, when I hear a snuffling sound coming from Chloe’s room.
Is she crying?
There is no hesitation in opening her bedroom door and figuring out what is going on.
As soon as I step into the room, I find Chloe sitting on the middle of her bed with tears in her eyes and clothes surrounding her.
It looks like her closet exploded.
“Hey.” I say, closing the door behind me and walking over to her bed, taking a seat next to her.
Chloe sniffles some more, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
“Hi,” she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“You want to tell me why you’re crying?” I ask, reaching out and bushing away some hair and tucking it behind her ear.
She shakes her. “No, because you’re going to judge me.”
“I won’t judge you,” I state.
Chloe gives me an eye roll and I think she’s about to tell me to go fuck myself when she gives in and tells me.
“None of my clothes fit,” she says, this time wiping her nose with the sleeve of the jersey she still has on.
“When I got out of the Uber tonight, my pants ripped. I thought they were just old and had been wearing them a lot, they were about to rip anyway. So what do I do, I come up here and decide to try on all the other pairs of pants that I have, to find my next favorite and guess what? Not a single pair fits. The only thing that fits are my leggings and even those feel tight.”
Pants.
She’s crying about pants.
I was prepared for a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them.
In a few hours, I went from being on the highest of highs, to sitting with the woman who isn’t my girlfriend while she cries about her pants not fitting her.
“We can go to the store and buy you new pants tomorrow.” I suggest.
“I don’t want to buy new ones. I want the ones that I already have.”
Of course she does.
“Sweetheart, your body is going to keep changing, so the ones you already have aren’t going to fit for a while. We can save those for after the baby comes.”
Daggers. All I get is daggers directed right at me and if they were real I wouldn’t have any eyes, maybe even lose a tongue.
“You know if it wasn’t for your pretty smile, charming personality and your magic dick, I wouldn’t be here crying about pants.” She spits out.
Damn, she’s feisty when she wants to be and I’m not going to lie, I like more than I should.
“Me and my magic dick apologize.” I try to say it with a straight face, but I can’t. A laugh that I try to hold in leaves my mouth and more daggers get thrown at me.
“Get out and let me wallow with my pants.” she says, shoving me off the bed and out of the room.
The more I laugh the more I get cursed out by hazel eyes.
Eventually there is a door between us and even though I’m laughing at the whole situation, I can’t help but feel bad.
“Chloe, I’m sorry.” I say to the door and all I get is a grunt in return.
Great. Instead of consoling her, I pissed her off. Over pants.
I rake my hand through my hair, knowing that messed up and start making my way over to my bedroom.
It’s when I’m taking my second shower of the night, that I’m thinking of ways to apologize to Chloe, when an idea hits me.
An idea that will have her feeling like a queen. hopefully.
As soon as I’m out of the shower, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the one that I need. I don’t even bother looking at that time before pressing the phone button and wait as the phone starts to ring.
It takes a total of thirty seconds for someone to answer.
“Hey, I’m going to need a favor from you.”