Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jason
Once Hailey starts antibiotics, she improves quickly, starting to feel better after just a couple of days, and back to pretty much her normal self in about a week.
Which is good because I’m anxious to get married before preseason starts.
I want to know that she’s on my insurance and has access to everything she needs before I’m gone half the time.
“So,” I start one morning after she’s feeling better. As I’d suspected while we were in Wisconsin, her I only drink coffee for breakfast preference seems to be more income related than anything else because she’s been eating breakfast—a light one, sure—every day since she’s been here.
She pauses, toast stopping on its way to her mouth, and arches an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“About the wedding.”
That has her setting the toast back on her plate and straightening her back, though she leans away from the table, resting stiffly against the back of the chair. “What about it?” she asks, sounding suspicious.
That has my eyebrows climbing. “Well, I thought we agreed it was the best plan. That way, you’re covered by insurance, and I can add you to my credit card accounts.”
“Accounts? Plural?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
She’s already shaking her head before I finish. “Just one is more than enough. I still think it’s a little insane that you want to do this at all.”
Pressing my lips together, I sigh. Is it insane?
Maybe. When I talked to Bouchard again last week, he seemed to think it was a little nuts, but not totally bonkers.
He’s said that Hailey’s hesitation makes him feel better about the whole thing.
And I get where he’s coming from. It would be concerning if it seemed like she just wanted to get married so she could take me to the cleaners.
But her hesitation makes that seem unlikely. Plus …
“We also talked about a prenup.”
There’s that part. Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on the table and offer her a smile.
“That’s true. We did. And I wanted to show it to you before we schedule an appointment with an attorney for you.
Just so you know what you’re working with.
” Opening my tablet, I pull up the draft my lawyer sent me and set it next to her plate.
She moves the plate aside, half-eaten toast now forgotten, and pulls the tablet in front of her, hunching over it with her hands in her lap and her shoulders rounded as she reads, only lifting one hand to scroll as she needs to.
Once she finishes, she straightens, shaking her head. “This is too much, Jason.”
“It’s not,” I argue. “It’s the bare minimum, really.”
“No. Once we divorce, I shouldn’t get anything. A seventy-five thousand dollar settlement is way too much.”
Lifting one shoulder, I counter that statement with, “It’s not even enough to live comfortably in Seattle for a year.
It’s the low end of an average annual salary.
Once you’re established, I want you to have backup funds in case anything happens.
Whether you want it or not, no attorney who reviews the prenup would let you take less than that.
In fact, they might press for more, as that’s in lieu of you getting half my assets, including this condo. ” I gesture at my place.
Her mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. Looking back at the table, she closes her mouth and furrows her brow, scrolling through it again. “I don’t know if I can let you do this,” she whispers.
“Why not?” I challenge, though I keep my voice soft.
It’s a struggle, though. I want her to understand that this is as important to me as using the coupon for her antibiotics was for her.
I want to take care of her. I want to make sure she’s set up.
And while the promise I made to Hunter is part of that, there’s more than that now.
Spending time with her in Wisconsin and since she moved here …
I just …
I can’t explain it very well, not even to myself. But I want to marry her. I want her here. With me. For as long as she wants to stay.
But I know if I tell her that, she won’t believe me. Or worse, she’ll bail. So I’m giving her an escape hatch so she knows she’s not trapped.
“I want to, Hailey,” I say after a moment of deciding how to put this in a way that lets her know I’m serious without scaring her off.
“I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again.
I have the ability to do this. Giving you this money won’t hurt me.
I’ve already put a chunk of it aside in a high-yield savings account in your name.
I’ll add to it over time, and you’ll get the account when we divorce.
” And the reality is, if there’s more than seventy-five thousand in that account at that point, she gets whatever’s in there. If there’s less, I’ll add the balance.
She swallows hard. “And no one’s tried to talk you out of this?”
Shaking my head, I grin. “My lawyer thinks I’m a cheap asshole for only doing this amount, actually. I think his exact words were, ‘How can you claim to love this woman but only give her a pittance like this?’”
Her eyes bulge. “A pittance?”
I notice she doesn’t say anything about the love comment.
Laughing, I shrug again. “Compared to his salary and mine, it is. I told him that you were the one insisting on a prenup and that you’d probably object that this is too much.
That’s the only reason he drafted it as-is.
He wants to protect my assets—that’s his job, after all—but he also doesn’t want you to get screwed.
” Clearing my throat, I pull a business card out of my wallet.
“He also recommended this attorney for you to have the prenup reviewed. I took the liberty of making an appointment for you tomorrow.”
Her head snaps up from looking at the prenup again. “Tomorrow?”
“That way, once you’re satisfied, we can sign it, then we can go pick up the marriage license.
There’s a three-day waiting period, and the courthouse is already pretty booked.
” I shift in my chair. “We could, uh … well, Bouchard already got one of those online certificates saying he’s ordained.
He said he could do the ceremony for us.
He and Maggie, his girlfriend, already said they’d be our witnesses.
Of course, if he’s doing the ceremony, we’ll need someone else as a second witness, but there are a lot of parks nearby that would be pretty for a wedding.
Maggie offered to go dress shopping with you if you want …
” I’m practically babbling, so I close my mouth and clear my throat, meeting Hailey’s wide, nearly disbelieving eyes.
“I know we said a courthouse, but a park might be nice. I have a suit already. You don’t have to buy a new dress if you don’t want to.
You could wear that, for all I care.” I gesture at her tank top and sleep shorts.
“But, well, people might think it’s a little funny you didn’t wear a dress, is all. ”
“Oh, uh … right. Because people don’t know … right.” She swallows hard, blinking rapidly and looking down at the tablet again. “They just know we’re getting married. They don’t know it’s for insurance?”
“Bouchard knows that it’s because I want to help you out. But he’s the only one. I know Maggie knows we’re getting married, but I don’t think she knows all the circumstances, no. If she does, she won’t say anything to anyone. And neither will Bouchard.”
“What about … what did you say your captain’s name was again?”
“Abernathy.”
“What about him? Does he know?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, he knows you’re here.
And I’ve mentioned that we’re getting married, but no, he doesn’t know all the details.
” When her only response is to press her lips together and flare her nostrils, I ask carefully, “Is that … is that okay? From my point of view, it seems better to keep those details to ourselves. If word gets out to media outlets …” I let that thought trail off. I don’t want to freak her out, but …
“Oh, yeah,” she says hoarsely. “Right. I hadn’t—I mean, I know you’re a professional hockey player and that sometimes means you get recognized in public and people talk about you online and on TV and stuff, but, I dunno.” She shrugs. “To me, you’re still just Jason.”
“There aren’t many people that I’m just Jason to these days, so I enjoy that about you.
” All past attempts at a relationship have ended fairly disastrously because no one sees me as “just Jason” anymore.
I’m always Chalmers, the Emeralds’ top scorer—well, as long as Abernathy hasn’t beat me out again.
We stay pretty close to each other in terms of total goals scored—and never just a cool guy they want to date.
They want the status and benefits, and they don’t ever really care about me.
But Hailey? Even sick, she’s been doing her best to be considerate, to pick up after herself, to not bother me if she can help it, even after being repeatedly reassured that she’s not a bother.
She’d prefer not to spend my money, even if she is letting me help her out for now.
If her car hadn’t broken down, though, she’d still be in Wisconsin eking out a living, one disaster away from tragedy.
Well, more tragedy.
She’s had more than her share of that already. It’s high time for her to have some good luck.
Clearing my throat, I pull out my phone and send her a text. “That’s Maggie’s number. Text her so you two can go shopping. She’s excited to meet you, but has been waiting patiently for you to feel better enough to do something.”
Hailey shakes her head slowly, more like she’s mystified than saying no. “This is all so surreal,” she says quietly.
Not to me. But I keep that to myself. Wild? Sure. Unexpected? Definitely. But it feels very, very real to me. In a good way.
“The appointment’s tomorrow at one. Is that okay? Or do you want to call and reschedule?”
She blinks at me a few times before sucking in a breath. “No, uh, that’s fine, I guess. Where? How, uh—”
“I’ll take you,” I cut in, intuiting what she’s having trouble articulating.
“That way, if you’re satisfied, we can sign it there and have it notarized.
Then we can meet up with Maggie afterward.
You should text her, though, so she knows you want her to take you shopping.
She wants to help, but she doesn’t want to be overbearing. ”
“Right,” she says faintly. “Okay.” Then she meets my eyes. “Can you forward this to me?” she asks, pointing at the tablet. “I’d like to look it over again later.”
“Of course.” I hold out my hand, and she passes me the tablet. After tapping a few buttons, I say, “There. Sent. It should be in your inbox shortly.”
“Thank you.” She smiles faintly, then pushes herself up to standing. “I think I’m going to take a shower and then practice, if that’s okay.”
“What about your toast?”
She looks at the toast blankly, then shakes her head.
“I’m full. Thank you, though.” Picking up the plate, she carries it into the kitchen, dumps the remainder of her toast in the trash can, rinses her plate, then places it in the dishwasher.
Without a backward glance, she heads for her room.
Not long after that, I hear the bathroom door close and the shower start.
Well. Maybe her breakfast habits aren’t just income related after all.