Chapter 34
LEAH
I’ve entered an alternate timeline for my life. The week is packed with back-to-back events, starting with my bachelorette pajama party while the guys are at an away game and culminating with my wedding.
In between is the homecoming game and dance, then Wedding Day Eve, which my family calls WE. I’ll have to ask the girls if anyone else knows about this particular tradition because I’m starting to think it’s purely a Smith-Torres concoction.
It’s not yet dark, but Cara said I had to come early for “reasons.” With my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I arrive at Ella and Jack’s house, an enormous craftsman-style home with stone, wood, and lots of landscape lighting.
Pumpkins and gourds are artfully arranged on the tops of hay bales—modest compared to the over-the-top décor at my parents’ house just down the street.
Ella holds the door open for me, sweeping her arm in welcome. “She’s here! Let’s get this party started!”
The main room is filled with pink, black, and white balloons, matching streamers interspersed with twinkle lights, and a big sign written in heart and star cutouts with the words: Leah’s Bach! Coordinating bouquets of flowers and throw pillows complete the girly décor theme.
Delaney has on white pajama pants with pink hearts and a T-shirt with a big heart across her pregnant belly.
Whit’s pajamas have little mustaches all over them.
I’m guessing someone got them for her because of her food truck, the Milk Mustache.
Cara is wearing Knights’ PJs, and Heidi has on footsie pajamas with a hood and bunny ears.
Gracie wears an eyelet nightie, Ella has on a silk shorts set, and Jess is wearing plaid.
From behind me, the front door opens and closes. Emerson breezes in wearing a robe and a cloth eye mask on her forehead like a headband. “I’m here!”
Without moving her lips much, Ella says, “Do you have them?”
Emerson winks and thrusts a very large gift bag into my hands. “For the bride-to-be.”
Everyone gathers around, urging me to open the gift. Before I do and despite my growing affection for Hudson, this is all happening so fast. I say, “Ladies, listen. Do you have the big picture here?”
Ella says, “We got the projector out, so yes, it’ll be a big picture as in film, or as modern people say movie. First, we’re doing some spa stuff, playing games, having dinner, and a pillow fight.”
“Let’s not forget watching the game,” Cara adds.
“This will be the first away game I haven’t attended this season, but I wouldn’t have missed hockey’s number one fan getting ready to marry hockey’s number one hottie.” Delaney rubs her hands together.
“Have you seen his hashtag? And I thought #MrDarcysAbs was—” Jess fans her hand in front of her face.
“You’re all married women,” I exclaim.
Whit nods slowly. “True, but we want you to appreciate what you have.”
“Back to the big picture and I’m not talking about movies. My parents arranged our marriage. You got that memo, right?” I ask, desperate.
They all nod and say variations of yes.
“So …”
They look at me blankly.
“So this is insane. I cannot believe you’re playing along.”
“Your mother can be very convincing.” Margo shivers.
Ella nods. “I thought you were a tough cookie and then I met Valentina.”
“Let’s not forget Dani. Never mind Mama Bear, she’s Mama Sister,” Gracie adds.
They settle in various places on the couch and drag me over there with them.
Emerson flutters her eyelashes. “Let’s talk about Love Candy on Legs.”
This sets everyone laughing.
“He’s a total catch,” Heidi says.
“Are there any red flags?” Cara asks, either genuinely curious or remembering something from high school.
Biting my lip, I don’t answer.
In turn, they list several common concerns and I shake my head at each one: controlling, a liar, jealous, abusive, or non-communicative. Those do not apply to Hudson.
“How about green flags?” Margo asks.
The girls answer for me and I can’t disagree.
It’s all true. He’s thoughtful, kind, a great listener, has told and shown me how he feels, recognizes my independence, is supportive, and seems to adore my family for reasons I don’t understand since they’re a giant human steamroller, whether all together or working in pairs.
“So what’s the problem?” Jess asks.
I can’t tell them because of how embarrassed I am. Yeesh. Talk about pride and prejudice. Hello ego. Hey there, past insult I can’t seem to shake.
“Let’s try it this way, what do you want? What’s your goal?” Whit asks.
A bubbly beverage lands in my hand. Emerson opens my gift for me and I change into a pair of soft cotton pajamas with the word Bride across the back like a sports jersey.
Snacks appear and the girls gather around, genuinely here to help and not judge me, so I decide to get a teeny tiny, itty bit vulnerable.
“For the longest time, I wanted to be noticed. Chosen. I know it sounds silly. I’m just being honest.” I stuff some homemade caramel popcorn in my mouth.
Delaney smiles. “We all do.”
“You all have your hockey husbands, but—”
Cara says, “What Delaney means is we all did want that. It’s normal. Natural to want to be seen and selected as someone special.”
Whit, who rivals my sisters with how tough she is on the outside, softens and adds, “We all wanted that warm, internal girly squeal, toe-curling feeling of a guy liking us.”
“Why? Isn’t that like against what we’re supposed to want?” I ask.
“To the exclusion of knowing and respecting yourself, yes, of course. But wanting to be in a relationship with someone who adores you isn’t weird at all,” she says.
“This is more like a situationship. Did anyone’s parents arrange theirs?”
I get a lot of head-wagging.
“Maybe you’re skittish. Afraid of what’ll happen when you finally get what you want. If you stopped looking for your hockey dream guy because you had him … then what?” Margo asks.
Whit supplies, “Then you’d have to accept his love.”
I bristle.
They’re right. It’s not like I’m looking for a savior. More like romance. Love. Not too much to ask because my black cat heart has a lot of affection to give, too. That part won’t be hard, but I’m so afraid of being rejected again.
“Unlike the rest of you, I’ve never had it before. Not even close. What if I’ve built it up and …”
“And it doesn’t meet your expectations?”
Jess lets out a breath, “I was on the phone with Robo the other night, walking him through how to make pasta, and it’s safe to say that man has it bad for you. So trust me when I tell you that it will meet your expectations.”
“Not if you keep up your walls.” Whit wears a knowing look.
I nod. “Wait, Jess, you tutored him on how to make dinner?”
Her lips pucker with a stifled smile. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
As if she senses I’m holding back, Cara asks, “Is there anything else about Robo you want to talk about?”
“Like how cute you think he is?” Delaney asks.
Letting out a breath, I say, “Well, there is the thing about his brother.” I tell them about how I had a big crush on him in high school.
Cara sticks out her tongue. “You and Hunter were not a match. He was so moody and had that spiked hair before he grew it long. Then it was so stringy. I never understood what you saw in him.”
“Potential?” Maybe I tried for the low-hanging fruit because I perceived other guys were out of reach … because I’ve always been so tall and athletic.
“Sometimes opposites do not attract,” Gracie adds.
My voice is small when I say, “I tried to be who Hunter wanted me to be.”
“Does Hudson ask that of you, overtly or subtly?” Whit asks like she’ll punch him if necessary.
“Not at all,” I answer truthfully. “We’re so different.”
“Yes and no. Think about Jack Attack and yours truly.” Ella practically swoons like it’s still day one of their marriage.
“The Puck Princess?” I ask. “It was so obvious you were meant to be together.”
Jess levels me with her gaze. “Okay, try Liam and me.”
I wince because she’s sunny and bright and he tends toward cloudy. “Less so.”
“Maybe back in the day you were a black cat, or that was all for show when you were around Hunter, when in reality, you’re a kitten.” Cara playfully claws the air.
“Are you saying Hudson is like a lion?” Emerson asks, not quite tracking with the conversation.
“More like a golden retriever.” Gracie explains the romance love interest trope about how one partner has independent and mysterious feline vibes and the other is like an energetic and bombastic puppy.
“See, we are different. Gracie, you said it yourself that sometimes opposites don’t attract.”
“You’re more alike than different. Anyway, to be precise, you’re a kitten and he’s a full-grown pooch, not a puppy.”
I nod, understanding the distinction.
Margo says, “Have you seen those adorable compilation videos, like a big ole golden retriever and a calico snuggled up?”
“Have I seen them? They’re partly to blame for me rebelling against sleep.”
“There will be no sleeping tonight. Whoever dozes off first is getting attacked with pillows.” Ella claps her hands together and the festivities begin, closing the convo on Hudson and me ... for now.
As Heidi gives me a mani and pedi, I can’t stop thinking about how in high school I’d been pining over the wrong brother. I’d always just been one of the guys. Now I’m also one of the girls.
Cara nudges me with her elbow. “Looks to me like you have your hockily ever after if you want it.”
From the living room, Delaney hollers, “Ladies, the puck is about to drop.”
We gather around the television, armed with snacks and drinks and a game to play every time the Knights score a goal.
“Wait. What is Robo doing on center ice?” Whit asks.
“I hope Jack isn’t hurt.” Ella blinks slowly with worry as we study the screen.
He spins in a slow circle as the camera pans, zooming in on him as the crowd chants, only it doesn’t sound like they’re saying Robo or Knights.
“What are they saying?” Emerson asks.
“Sounds like, ‘Say Yes.’”
We’re all perplexed, then the camera captures Hudson holding up a sign. The girls read it aloud.
It’s my goal to take you to HoCo. Can we stick together?
I die because there’s no way his mother made that like so many of the other guys back in high school who had their mom do the crafty work. He did it himself with markers, glitter, glue, and construction paper.
Right then, someone knocks on the door. We all startle and Ella answers. The courier in the period dress and wig enters with a cameraman next to him. He holds a white box tied with a pink ribbon. “A gift for Miss Smith.”
We’re all stunned into silence.
“I think you’re supposed to say yes,” Whit whispers.
I think I was also supposed to say yes when Hudson presented me with the black diamond surrounded by sparkly ones. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said yes because that implies an obligation. Rather, I wanted to but was afraid.
Inside the box is a silky, golden A-line gown with a V-neck and little pointelle leaves that flutter from the shoulder, artfully along the bodice, and then to the skirt. I realize it’s for me to wear to the Cobbiton hockey homecoming game.
Yep, I am definitely living an alternate timeline of my life.