30. Roman
THIRTY
ROMAN
My wedding band presses against my chest under my practice jersey. I’m wearing it on a chain around my neck because I didn’t want to take it off. I definitely got the side eye from Drew when I was putting on my gear, but I don’t care.
I’m not the sentimental type and aside from a few things, there isn’t a lot I carry with me. I’ve never formed attachments, with things or people, because it was the way I grew up.
My house was cold and empty, to say the least. My parents lived there, and both of them were too busy to have time for each other let alone me. I found close families and friendships odd because I didn’t know people can get along like that.
How did people tolerate someone else in their space? How did they find it so easy to co-exist and have meals together and talk about their day? The ten years I lived at home, my parents didn’t even have coffee together let alone a meal.
Here I am, tying myself to another person. Not any person, either. It’s Lavinia. The thought makes me want to run away and also take her with me.
Suddenly, I’m sentimental over a ring because it says that I belong to Lavinia. She chose me. Yes, admittedly, she was drunk at the time, and she also chose Josh, but I’m not going to hold her past mistakes against her. Who cares who she dated in the past when she’s with me now?
The puck whizzes past me and almost on autopilot, I skate after it, stopping it and sending it back across the center line.
“Good to know you’re focused on practice, Maddox,” Coach calls.
“He’s got love on the brain, Coach,” Ford laughs.
“Nah, I haven’t had any coffee because Holden took it all,” I say.
“Blame Ford,” Holden calls from the other end of the rink.
“Traitor!” Ford shouts.
Holden raises both arms. “Vin already figured it out, what do you want me to do about it?”
Things with the guys have been…fine. I walked into the locker room the day after Drew punched expecting him to still be angry. Instead, I found Drew being his usual quiet self. Not eager to befriend me, but also not treating me as the enemy.
I’m suddenly getting passes during the games and at practice because I’m not a body on the ice. The way I see it, I was right. Just by being in Lavinia’s orbit, I’m not persona non grata.
“Not admit it,” Ford says.
“You’re the mastermind, huh?” I skate up next to Ford.
“You can’t blame me. I’m just making sure Lavinia’s safe.”
I shrug, though I doubt he can see it under the pads that cover my shoulder. “She’s also the girl I’ve known my whole life. Her relationship to the men in her life’s not the most valuable thing about her and frankly, it’s the last thing I think about when I think of her.”
It’s the same thing I told Mr. Callahan, and I’m saying it again because it’s true. I find great, possessive enjoyment in thinking of Lavinia as my wife, but if someone were to refer to her as my wife, I’ll be the first person to tell them no.
She’s Lavinia Callahan, Olympic medalist, first and always.
She’s worked her whole life to prove her worth as a hockey player and a female athlete, on every stage.
There’s no fucking way I’m going to stand by and let someone call her Aiden Callahan’s daughter, or Andrew Callahan’s sister, or Roman Maddox’s wife.
This woman is a legend, and she deserves to be treated as such.
Under his helmet, I feel Ford’s eyes focus on me. They’re a clear, almost translucent grey and right now, they’re looking at me with a mix of respect, confusion, and distrust.
“How can you be a complete asshole and say shit like that?”
“It was a shock to me as well,” Drew says, skating behind us.
“A person can be more than one thing,” I reply. “I can be an asshole and respect Lavinia’s individuality and rights as a woman. Have you thought about how Drew behaves being Lavinia Callahan’s brother?”
“Let me get this straight,” Ford says, “the only person who gets your respect and you’re decent to, is Vin?”
“Yeah, she’s my wife,” I say, like it should be obvious.
“If you guys are done gossiping, can we get back to practice?” Coach calls. “After the game against Florida, I’d think you guys would focus more on practice and less on chatting.”
The team flinches collectively. Florida wiped us out 5-2 at our game two nights ago and we barely got to handle the puck. Until then, I’d never seen Coach that angry. I didn’t blame him for yelling at us either, because we definitely didn’t bring our A game.
A door opens and closes, followed by the sound of footsteps.
Coach turns to look behind him as a woman appears in an emerald green pantsuit, brown hair twisted up into a knot.
She can’t be older than half the team and she appears a little nervous as she comes to stand next to Coach.
Beside me, Ford drops his stick, and I watch as he scrambles to pick it up.
“Alright, practice is over. Gather around, kids.”
“Coach, you’re barely ten years older than me,” Drew says.
“Yeah, you were still playing hockey until five years ago,” Reese adds.
“I feel like I’ve aged ten years since I took this job, so that actually makes me twenty years older than Drew,” Coach replies dryly. The woman next to him smiles softly, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
We all remove our helmets, skating up to the boards.
“This is Sage Morgan.” Coach waves a hand at the woman. “She’s part of public relations and will be working closely with the team. Do not make her life difficult.”
“I’m very happy to be here and working with you all,” Sage says, stepping forward. “I hope we can build something good together.”
She looks nervous, though her eyes move confidently over all of us and skip right over Ford to land on me. I glance at him and find his eyes locked on Sage, an indescribable look on his face.
It takes me a moment to realize it’s shock of seeing a person you never expect to see. I elbow him in the side, hard enough that he’ll feel it under the pads. He winces and tosses me a look.
“You’re being a creep,” I mutter.
He glances back at Sage and seems to notice that she’s looking anywhere but directly in our direction. Ford’s eyes drop down to the ice, his cheeks a faint pink.
“Do you guys mind if I take a few videos of your practice? It’ll really help with the socials,” Sage says. “I love Ethel, but your socials are a mess.”
Ethel is the head of Public Relations for the Titans.
When I first met her, she put me on top of her shit list—and yes, she has a physical list she carries around.
She also told me she was going to take me out to her house in Nantucket and throw me into the ocean if I made her job difficult.
I’ve never been more honored or terrified in my life.
“Are you replacing Ethel?” Kai asks.
“Oh my god, no! I’m nowhere near as cool and knowledgeable as Ethel.” Sage looks over her shoulder and then leans in, lowering her voice. “She also threatened to kill me if I made her job difficult.”
“The house in Nantucket?” I ask.
Sage’s eyes shift to me. “Oh, you’ve been threatened with it, too. I don’t feel so special anymore.”
I grin at her. “Don’t worry, I have that effect on people. I’m sure Coach plans on killing me five times throughout a game.”
Sage laughs quietly, her shoulders dropping a little so she’s not in defensive mode. I glance sideways and I’m taken aback by the hostile looks I’m getting.
“Are you flirting with her?” Reese asks.
“What? No. I’m trying to be nice.” I can’t even talk to someone now without them thinking I’m flirting? I must’ve been a real asshole before.
“He’s kidding,” Kai says.
“Yeah, dude. We don’t think you have a death wish flirting with another woman in front of us while married to Lavinia,” Holden snickers.
“You’re the guy from the photos?” Sage exclaims, wide eyed with excitement.
Ah right, the photos. Lavinia posted photos to her socials yesterday of the Vegas trip.
Most of them are of her and Jules, until you scroll to the end and there are two pictures of a man’s arm wrapped around her chest, another of our hands with the wedding rings and the last one of her new wedding ring.
The carousel already has hundreds of thousands of likes and hundreds of comments wondering who she married or congratulating her.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I reply.
Sage’s brown eyes narrow in on me like she’s a microscope and I’m a specimen she’s inspecting. “You’re married to Lavinia Callahan?”
“See, it is horrifying when you really think about it,” Drew says. “Since I have to look at his face every day, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“I love you, too.”
Drew glowers at me. He might not want to kill me anymore, that doesn't mean he’s any closer to liking me or even accepting me. I remind myself that he’s the same as Lavinia. They need time to accept what’s right in front of them.
A dog barking somewhere has us all looking around. Lavinia enters the training center, a dog leash in her hand with a golden retriever attached to it. She pauses when she notices all of us staring at her and even from here, I can see the way her cheeks flush.
“I know I’m more attractive than Drew and definitely a better hockey player, but you don’t have to stop and stare,” she says.
Drew scoffs. “You’re not better than me.”
“Which twin is a medalist, and which one is a mere hockey player?” Lavinia cocks an eyebrow. I can’t stop my grin. I love this cocky, self-assured version of her. This is who she is. Not boastful or conceited, but proud of her achievements because she knows she deserves them.
“I’m the captain of a Stanley Cup winning team,” Drew protests.
“I was the captain of an Olympic gold winning team,” Lavinia counters.
“She wins this round,” Coach says.
“The last time I won was at birth because I was born first,” Drew grumbles.
“What a glorious two minutes and twenty seconds that must have been for you,” Lavinia snarks. The guys laugh and when Drew glares at them, their laughs turn into coughs.
Lavinia walks closer and notices Sage, who’s in full fangirl mode, frozen as she stares at Lavinia. I’m not sure if she’s breathing.
“Hi, I’m Lavinia. I’m Drew’s sister, obviously. Also, Roman’s my current husband.”
Sage inhales once and coughs lightly. “I’m Sage Morgan. I work in PR.”
“That’s wonderful! I love Ethel, but she’s strictly anti social media and I’m not sure that works in this day and age.
We should get together some time for drinks, if you’re up for it.
I’d love to pick your brain about content ideas.
” My wife’s never met a person who doesn’t want to be her friend.
This is what she does, everywhere she goes.
Sage’s face lights up and she looks like Christmas came early. “Yeah, I’d love that.”
That settled, Coach tells us all practice is officially over.
We’re too giddy with conversation to pay attention to our game anyway, and I know that’s going to bite us on the ass in our games against New York in two days.
The team all turns to walk back to the dressing room while I linger back, skating closer to the boards and Lavinia.
It’s just the two of us here.
“I didn’t know you had a dog,” I say.
“This is Bailey. She’s Drew’s dog, and I took her to the vet this morning.” Lavinia leans down, petting Bailey. Somehow, I can’t picture Drew with a dog, and a golden retriever at that.
But there’s a more pressing question I need to ask her.
“Current husband?” I question dryly.
Lavinia’s green eyes meet mine for the first time. Slowly, she raises her left hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and her ring sparkles under the bright lights. A spark of possessiveness ignites in my chest seeing her still wearing my ring. My wife.
“We’re currently married, aren’t we?”
“You’re getting us on technicalities,” I counter.
“As a professional athlete, you should be used to it.”
I lean in, kissing the corner of her mouth. Lavinia makes a sound as I pull back and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“I was thinking, if you don’t have plans tonight,” I say, “you can come over. I can order Delucia’s and we can watch Practical Magic.”
I swear, her eyes dilate.
“You had me at Delucia’s and Practical Magic,” she says.
Yeah, I know my girl. I know what she likes and I also know that when she likes something or someone, she’s loyal to a fault.
I lean forward over the boards, close enough to kiss her and then pull back. Lavinia’s eyes narrow.
“I’ll see you tonight.” I skate backwards.
“Will Kita be joining us?”
“I’m going to lock the door. Tell your boys not to come knocking.”
“I don’t control them, Roman.”
It’s the last thing she says before I disappear into the tunnel and towards the dressing room. I’m suddenly nervous. The last time I went on a date, I was a teenager, and that date didn’t come with as many expectations as this one.