Chapter 8
WALK-UP OUTFITS
Kate called just after six the next morning asking if I could cover for someone at the building on Fifteenth Street.
“Carpet day?” I groaned.
“Yeah,” she said. “Two people called in. I can drive you.”
“Give me twenty minutes.” I hung up and blinked in the darkness, trying not to fall back asleep.
It wasn’t until I moved to sitting on the side of my bed that I remembered Barry was in the basement, probably trying to sleep in on his Saturday morning.
I changed into clean yoga pants and a Harvey sweatshirt before tiptoeing to the bathroom to wash my face.
When I came out, though, I was startled to find Barry asleep on the couch, one leg curled toward his chest and the other hanging off the arm. The bed hadn’t been a success after all, it seemed. Junior, a traitorous thing, slept on Barry’s washboard of a stomach.
I tried to move even slower, taking big steps toward the kitchen to get one of the yogurts from the fridge and my water bottle.
My coat was hanging from the back of the chair by the couch, and it was a loud puffy material, so I’d have to be careful not to swish around in it too much.
Junior watched me with his head down as I passed into the kitchen.
It was still dark, so I used my phone’s flashlight to navigate, filling up my bottle with tap water after retrieving a yogurt and a spoon.
“Hannah?” Barry said from the couch. I remembered the last time I’d heard his voice so syrupy sleepy like that, right in my ear in his brother’s sunny New York apartment when he’d said, “I’m so glad you’re still here,” and pulled me against him.
Scotty had gone out with someone after the show, which left his apartment empty for us to canoodle all morning.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah?”
“What time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “Six twenty.”
“Oh.” I saw Barry’s head look around the mostly dark living room. “Where are you?”
I turned on the kitchen light, and he shut his eyes at the brightness for a moment before adjusting. His cheek had a red crease on it from the pillow, and I could just make out the tops of his shoulders over the couch.
“Why?”
I couldn’t help my laugh. “Why am I awake? I have to work.”
“So early,” he said. “So early.”
I didn’t tell him that six a.m. was two hours later than my usual starting time at the practice facility; this was sleeping in.
“Yeah,” I said instead. “You go back to sleep, I’ll be done in a few hours.”
“No, no.” Barry untangled his legs from the blankets strewn over him, displacing Junior in the process, who landed on the wood floor and stretched his back in a perfect arch.
Junior meowed once before sauntering into the kitchen for his food.
Barry stood, and twisted side to side a bit, his back cracking a couple times. “I’ll go with you.”
“No,” I said. If I had to guess, Barry didn’t know the first thing about shampooing carpets, no doubt he would just be in the way of the crew if he came with us.
And why would he want to come? He wasn’t getting paid to clean buildings.
Did he think that I’d hurt the baby? Like in a cleaning-related injury? What was going to happen to me?
“I’ll help,” Barry said and lumbered down the hall, still clumsy from just waking up. “Let me help.”
I put my breakfast and water on the counter before rushing over to intercept his entrance, standing like a sentinel in front of the bathroom. Barry rubbed his eyes.
“You should go back to sleep,” I said. “You have to play hockey, right? Game day?”
“I’ll drive you. Just let me get—”
“Kate’s driving me. She’s almost here,” I said. “I’ll be back before noon.”
The space between Barry’s eyebrows wrinkled further.
“It’s—I’m just gonna go, okay? This is my job. I’ll see you later.” I slid past him again, this time to get my jacket and shove my feet into my tennis shoes. He still stood in the hall when I unlocked the door and stepped outside, only to rush back inside for my yogurt.
“There’s a key on the island for you,” I called before pulling the front door closed. Kate pulled up as I did, and thank God, because I wasn’t sure that Barry wouldn’t try to follow me barefoot in his sweatpants and tank-top situation.
I slid into the front seat and tugged my seatbelt on.
“Why are you panting?” Kate asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said, and to my amazement, she didn’t. Kate put the car in drive, and I didn’t look back at the house once as we drove away.
Barry wasn’t around when I got home from work, which felt like a blessing.
I was cooked after hours of cleaning carpets, and my lower back ached.
Barry had neatly folded up his blankets on the couch, the pillow atop, and as to not disturb it, I took a nap on my bed until I got hungry.
That was life these days: eat, work, sleep, repeat.
After lunch, I decided to finish hanging up two of the shelves I made in the baby’s room. Barry reappeared as I drilled the final screw into the stud.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” I tried not to sound out of breath, though I had a sheen of sweat over my forehead and chest I’m sure he could see.
“Want help?”
“Was just finishing, actually,” I said, and slid the two hanging shelves onto their mounts.
A quick check with the level insured they were indeed even, amen.
When I looked back at him as if to say see?
, I saw he wore a button-up and fitted slacks, probably tailored just for his massive thighs and long legs.
The top two buttons were undone, showing a peek of his chest that I quickly moved my eyes away from.
“You look fancy,” I remarked. His hair was still wet and slicked back like he’d just showered. Had I not heard him shower in the basement or did he make the wise choice to shower at the practice facility? Much nicer showers there. I was tempted to try them on especially cold mornings.
“Game day,” he said by way of explanation. “We don’t have to wear suits anymore, but I still like to, sometimes. My street style isn’t as good as some of the other guys.”
I recognized the concept of walk-up outfits from a few of the Instagram posts that Kate had sent me of Barry posted from his current and previous teams’ pages, usually accompanied with many eyes emojis.
He looked dizzyingly hot in all of them, as pointed out by many women in the comments, and I was secretly thrilled remembering that it was me who had him ready to risk it all after one date in New York.
“You look handsome,” I said after probably too long not commenting on what I’d seen of his street style, which was nothing. Like, as far as I knew, he owned exclusively workout clothes and suits.
“When do you have time to work on all this stuff?” he asked. I thought I saw his cheeks a little pinker from my ignored compliment.
“What do you mean?”
“You wake up at an ungodly hour, so you probably aren’t staying up late, and then you work full time.”
When I could pull an extra overtime shift, I did, especially if it was something like carpets, because at least it would move quickly, and time and a half was nothing to scoff about. “I work on it on the weekends, afternoons, stuff like that.”
“Is it safe? Inhaling all those cleaning chemicals all the time?”
I tensed at this confirmation that he did think I was putting our baby in danger by working. I’d thought of it, especially in the beginning when the smell of anything made me nauseous.
“I use less chemical cleaners when I can. If there’s something that needs bleach, the other team member cleans that area,” I explained. It seemed to settle him, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Do you hire help for the house?” He picked up the drill I’d just put down and pressed the button to turn it on twice in quick succession. I took it from him and returned it to the stained folding table in the guest room like it might hurt him.
“Only when I really need to. My dad and I can handle most things, and if we don’t know how to do it, we can probably learn online.”
“Hm.” I felt like he was judging me in that one syllable, but I didn’t know why—did he not believe I could do it? I was very, very capable and had a clear vision. Plus, people DIY fix up their houses all the time. Why would I be any different?
“I’ll help you,” he said.
“All good, no need. Just finished.” I put a frame on the shelf for good measure to show how, indeed, these little shelves were good to go.
“I meant with the house projects in general. I want to help.”
First it was wanting to help do the job I am paid for, now he wants to be all Bob the Builder with me in my old rambler?
“Don’t you have games? Practices? Travel this week, right? You’re definitely busier than I am.”
“My days aren’t consumed by hockey for all twenty-four hours. I can help with projects, I’m strong and not seven months pregnant.”
I scoffed. “What are you trying to say?”
Barry winced and tilted his head back, already exasperated only one day into cohabitation. “Only that I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be lifting large or heavy items, and luckily, I am very good at that specifically. You don’t need to do everything by yourself.”
“Fine.”
“Great,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, and then realized my gaze on his was growing too heated in my frustration. I looked away and took a long drink of water from my bottle.
“Is the tap water good here?” Barry asked.
I couldn’t help my eyebrows creeping up my forehead. So he was picky about water?
“It’s not filtered, if that’s what you mean. Tastes fine though.”
“Right, no, that’s cool,” Barry assured me, though it was obviously not. I decided not to press if I wanted to escape this conversation without my eye twitching, instead grabbing a broom to sweep up the mess from the shelves. “So, like I said, I have a game tonight.”
I looked up at him, trying to figure out what I was supposed to say in response to this information.
“Cool,” I decided on. I’d watched a few games with Jeremy and my dad on TV, and I used the term “watch” very loosely. I usually read, or Kate and I worked on a puzzle or a craft. Barry looked like he was expecting more from me, so I went on tentatively. “And you’re…nervous about this?”
“No, not nervous,” he shook his head. “Well, maybe a little, new team and all that. But I’ll be fine. We’re playing Minnesota.”
“Ah.” I knew nothing about Minnesota’s hockey team.
“Do you want to come?”
“To the game?”
“Yeah.”
I finished sweeping and moved to needlessly organizing my worktable. “I’ve never been to a game.”
“Ever? You work at the practice facility.”
“Not for very long, it’s still new.”
“Well, how about tonight?”
I chewed on my lower lip while I thought about it, imagining the mechanics of even getting to a game—the public transport, the people, what would I even wear? But then I thought about Jeremy, who would probably strangle me if he knew I was even considering turning this offer down.
“Can I bring my siblings?” I asked.
Barry’s face lit up, eyes bright, a huge smile pushing up his cheeks. I felt a bit blinded by the sight of it. The women in the team’s Instagram comments were right, he really is very, very pretty.
“Yes, absolutely, yes,” Barry said, and now he was so excited that really I couldn’t say no. I was doing this.
“Okay, then, sure.” Jeremy likely already had plans, but probably not plans that he wouldn’t immediately cancel for a chance to go to a hockey game for free. And Kate, well, Kate rarely had plans in the evenings.
Barry was already getting his phone out and sending a message to someone, presumably to tell them he would have guests at the game tonight.
“You’re gonna love it, I think,” he said.
“We’ll see. Love might be a strong word.”
Barry grinned and rolled his eyes at my reluctance.
“I gotta go, okay? See you there? I’ll text you the ticket information.”
Barry left the house, no shortage of pep in his step, and Junior filled the spot he’d just vacated, meowing as if it wasn’t hours yet from dinner. I sighed and crouched to scratch his head before getting out my phone to call my siblings.