Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MATT
Ellie’s lying in my bed, propped up on some pillows, reading a book.
She’s supposed to take it easy this week and I’ve been insistent she follows the doctor’s orders since she came to my house two days ago.
The season ended with our last game yesterday, but even before that it was a pretty relaxed schedule with us being out of contention for playoffs.
And with Ellie staying here and her dad back in Boston now, that means a lot of uninterrupted time with my girl.
That is, aside from the visits from Nate and Dev and frequent calls from Zoey, which I don’t mind because Ellie seems to appreciate the company. She even got to meet Niko finally when he popped over last night after our game to celebrate my thousandth assist.
I’ve been wanting to talk to her about something, but I also wanted to make sure she’d had enough time to process what she went through and what it might mean for the future.
The doctor made it clear the procedure she had shouldn’t affect fertility, but it was obviously scary and traumatic and I wouldn’t blame her if it shaped the way she felt about it all.
I also remember how she distinctly wasn’t ready to talk about it when we were still in the hospital.
I push away from the doorway I was propped against and head toward the bed. Ellie glances up at the movement, a smile stretching across her face. My favorite thing in the world.
“Hey, I didn’t hear you get back.”
“I think when you read, you tune out the world,” I joke. I was purposefully quiet coming in from a workout, but I’ve witnessed it enough to know she really does get that engrossed in her books.
“It’s called focus,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me and setting her book down next to her.
I smile and climb on the bed to lie down, turning so I’m on my side facing her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Ellie raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Remember when we first really talked, you asked if I had done the whole ‘do you want kids’ talk with exes?”
Her cheeks tinge pink. “Of course.”
I swipe my thumb over one and revel in how she leans into my touch. “I thought maybe we could have that conversation. If you’re up for it.”
“Oh,” Ellie says hesitantly. “Sure.”
“It doesn’t have to be now, if you’d rather not talk about it yet.”
“Now’s fine.”
I nod in reply. Then debate how to start for about five seconds before threading our fingers and giving her hand a squeeze. “We were going to have a baby.”
Ellie searches my face, those beautiful eyes looking for any clues about how I’m feeling on the topic, I’d guess. “Yeah,” she finally lets out slowly.
I clear my throat. “How are you feeling about that?”
She shrugs, adding surprising casualness to what I expected to be a hard topic.
“I guess…I feel like everyone expects me to be more upset about it all. But I didn’t really find out about it until it was no longer…
happening. At first I was shocked and emotional over the event of it all.
And losing a tube is freaky. But now it feels kind of abstract?
Almost like it happened to someone else.
” Ellie finishes quietly and I see her throat move on a swallow. “Maybe that’s an odd way to feel.”
“I think you get to feel any way you want, baby. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s odd. It makes sense to me.”
Ellie gives my hand a squeeze back. “How are you, um, feeling about it?”
I watch fondly as her blush deepens and think carefully about what words I want to use. “It wasn’t really until after I saw you with my own eyes and knew you were okay that I even took any time to process it all. Then I was a little sad about the pregnancy. Just knowing what could have been.”
Ellie’s eyebrows rise in what I assume is surprise and I want to kick myself for letting her doubt how I was feeling about this for even a few days. Time for the question that’s been weighing on me. Why am I so nervous?
“Do you want to have kids?”
“I…” She hesitates and I feel like my life is teetering on some ledge, just an answer away from falling in one determining direction. “I’ve always wanted kids, yeah.”
“Wanted—you still do?” I clarify.
She nods and a breath I didn’t realize was stuck in my chest rushes out.
“But I remember what you said before, and obviously this was a surprise and I’ve thought about it—”
“Ellie,” I interrupt softly. “Ask me.”
Those honey eyes freeze on mine for a beat. “Do you want kids?”
“With you, yes.”
“Oh,” she breathes. “Really?”
I lean in and kiss her. “Yes,” I murmur against her lips. I kiss her again and then lean back into my previous position.
Ellie’s mouth curves up. “When do you want kids?”
I shrug. “Whenever you do, baby.”
“What if I wanted them now?”
“Then I’d let Coach and our GM know I was retiring to start a family.”
Her smile drops. “What? That would make you want to retire?”
I dip my head. “Very much so.”
“But why? Lots of hockey players have kids before they retire, right?” she asks.
“Sure, but I want to make it—them—my priority. I’ve been fantasizing about being a stay-at-home dad the past few days and I have to say I’m getting quite attached to the idea.
I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to be at an away game when they take their first steps or say their first words.
I don’t want to leave my pregnant wife at home to go play a half-assed game where all I can think about is missing the chance to feel kicks or bring you whatever it is you’re craving at the time. ”
Ellie grabs my other hand and squeezes it, both firmly in her grasp. “You’ve thought a lot about this, huh?”
“Pretty much twenty-four seven the past few days,” I admit.
Ellie’s gaze flicks between my eyes, going back and forth. “You love hockey,” she says softly.
I shrug again. “I do.” Then squeeze her hands back. “I love you more.”
Her eyes water and for once I don’t feel any pain from it, just that tightness in my chest I’m used to. I think these are happy tears. I maneuver our joint hands to wipe away one that trickles down her cheek.
Ellie sniffs. “Wife, huh?”
My smile spreads reflexively. “Caught that, did you? Was hoping to work on some subliminal messaging over the next few months to ease you into the idea.”
“That’s smart,” she says on a nod, and my heart rate picks up. “What if I don’t want to have kids for a couple more years?”
“Then maybe I play for another year or two, until we’re sure. I figured we could take it season by season and make a decision together.”
“Together,” she repeats.
“We’re a team, right?”
Another tear slips down her face and I release her hand to swipe it away. She nods a few times and leans forward toward me. I meet her in the middle, fitting my mouth to hers.
I asked Ellie that first night together what her endgame was.
I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to figure out my own.
I was so wrapped up in hockey that I couldn’t separate what came after, only that it would be some consolation prize in comparison.
Something to stay busy and keep my mind off dwelling on the “good old days.”
I know now how stupid that sounds. Because my endgame is Ellie—our life together. And those good old days? I have a feeling they’re just getting started.