Chapter 33 Fish
FISH
Christmas in Maine feels quiet. Mom's house smells like pine and cinnamon, and the wood stove she refuses to replace even though I've offered to buy her a new heating system four times.
The tree is small, decorated with ornaments I made as a kid, and there's snow on the ground outside, so it should feel like home.
But home isn't here anymore. Home is a woman in Quebec wearing a plastic ring.
Fish: Merry Christmas, wife.
Collette: Merry Christmas, husband. Mom made poutine. I wish you were here to try it.
Fish: I wish I was there too. What are you wearing?
Collette: Justin. It's Christmas morning. My mother is in the next room.
Fish: So? What are you wearing?
Collette: Pajamas with candy canes on them.
Fish: Hot. Send me a photo.
Collette: You're impossible.
Collette: *Photo*
Fish: Now my dick is hard.
Collette: Show me.
Fish: *Photo*
Collette: I miss Big Fish
Fish: Big Fish misses you.
Collette: Not long.
Fish: I’m counting down the days.
Collette: I miss you. That’s all.
Fish: Me too. Two more days.
Fish: How many kids do you want?
Collette: I feel like you’ve asked me this before.
Fish: I have, after the kid’s day.
Collette: That’s right. OMG. Were you talking about me that day when you said I had to ask her?
Fish: Um. Yeah.
Collette: You thought about me then.
Fish: Yes. I told you I’ve been locked in for a long time. Just took you longer to catch up.
Collette: Sure did. I think that day I said two or three, and you wanted a hockey team.
Fish: I did. But like I said, it’s your choice.
Collette: Let’s see how two or three go first.
Fish: Fuck. Now my dick is hard again, thinking of knocking you up.
Collette: Kinky.
Fish: Do you want kids sooner or later?
Collette: I don’t know.
Fish: Would you stay at home or continue working?
Collette: I don’t know.
Fish: I would support you in whatever you wanted to do.
Collette: I know.
Fish: If you don’t want to work in social media anymore and want to do something else, I’d support you in that, too.
Collette: You would?
Fish: Of course. I remember you telling me social media wasn’t your dream job, but that you were good at it.
Collette: True.
Fish: So, what is your dream?
Collette: I don’t know.
Fish: That’s okay too. Just know I’m here to support you.
Collette: How the hell did I get so lucky?
Fish: Feeling’s mutual, babe.
Mom knows something is different. She keeps looking at me across the kitchen table with that expression mothers have when they can tell you're hiding something, but they're waiting for you to crack.
"You seem happy," she says when I step in and help her with the washing-up after Christmas dinner with my sister and nephew.
"I am happy," I tell her, and I wish I could tell her more.
"Hockey's going well?" she asks.
"Yeah. Team's clicking."
"And the rest of life? Not getting into too much trouble I hope?" She gives me the look. The mom look. The one that sees through every wall I've ever built.
"The rest of life is good, Mom. And I promise I am not getting into any trouble, those days are long behind me,” I reassure her.
“Because there’s a girl in your life?”
I still. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you've been smiling at your phone all day.” She smirks.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, there's a girl," I admit.
“Does it have anything to do with Fishette?” I’m shocked. “I see what’s going on online.” I nod. Mom smiles. “You two do look like you have chemistry.”
“We do. The fans aren’t wrong with their edits.”
"Tell me about her," she asks.
"She's beautiful, funny, and warm, but also stubborn and bossy. She eats cereal out of the box and gets grumpy when she doesn’t have her morning coffee. She argues with me about everything, and she has these eyes that make me forget my own name."
“You’re in love with her.” She gasps.
“I am. Madly. Truly. Deeply,” I confess.
She gives me the biggest smile and wraps her soapy, wet arms around me, and gives me a hug. “And she loves you back.”
"She does.”
"Then that's all that matters. When do I get to meet her?" she asks.
"Soon. I promise. It's just complicated right now."
“Why?”
“Her brothers are my teammates.” She lets out a low whistle. “They warned the team not to touch her.”
“You were never good at following the rules,” she teases.
“No, Mom, I’m not.”
Collette: Mom just asked Pierre if he's heard of Fishette. Send help.
Fish: My mom apparently had been following #Fishette too.
Collette: She wants to know who Fish is and why the internet thinks we're dating.
Fish: What did you say?
Collette: I told her you’re my best friend. Pierre explained that you are his teammate and not allowed to touch me. I also added that the fans were delusional.
Fish: Delusional, nice touch.
Collette: She said you’re very handsome, and she doesn’t understand how I can be friends with you because you are so hot.
Fish: Your mom thinks I’m hot. I’m in.
Collette: Don't let it go to your head.
Fish: Too late. Tell your mom I said thanks.
Fish: I get to see you tomorrow.
Collette: I know. I’ll come straight from the airport to your apartment.
Fish: I can’t wait to see you again. These three days have been torture.
Collette: Same. See you tomorrow, Mr. Crawford.
Fish: See you tomorrow, Mrs. Crawford.
I land at JFK four hours before her flight gets in.
Four hours to turn my apartment into something worthy of the woman I married in a government building at midnight.
Because Collette St. Pierre, or now Collette Crawford, deserves better than a plastic ring.
She deserves everything. And tonight, I'm going to give her the proposal she should have had.
I start with candles, a lot of candles. Thankfully, they are all LED because I do not want to burn the building down.
Every surface in the apartment gets a candle.
Then I place vases of roses everywhere else, it’s a sea of red.
I scatter the petals along the corridor to the living room and then to the bedroom.
I’ve ordered pizza from the same place I ordered from after we slept together for the first time.
I have a bottle of champagne chilling for us to celebrate with.
Then there’s the final piece. I go to the kitchen and pull out a box of her favorite cereal, the one she eats straight out of the box like a gremlin.
I open the box carefully, reach inside, and place the plastic bubble holding the ring into the cereal.
I wanted it to look like the plastic bubble we bought at the convenience store.
I step back and look at the apartment, candles flickering, roses everywhere, and pizza on the table.
A bucket of champagne, and a cereal box on the fireplace mantel where I’ve scattered rose petals.
My phone buzzes.
Collette: Just landed. On my way. See you soon.
Fish: Doors open. Let yourself in.
Collette: Should I be worried?
Fish: Just come home.
I dim the lights and wait.
The door opens, and I hear her suitcase wheels on the hardwood. Then silence. My heart is literally about to burst through my chest.
"Justin?" Her voice is small. Surprised. "What is this?" She follows the rose petals, and then looks up and finds me standing in front of the fireplace. She gasps as she takes in the romantic setting.
"Welcome home," I say, dropping to one knee.
“Justin!”
“These past three days of not being with you have made me realize even more that I never want to spend another moment without you in it.”
She walks slowly toward me. “I don’t either.”
I stand up, grab the cereal box off the fireplace mantel, and hand it to her. She frowns but takes it.
"Open it, see if you have won a prize.”
Her eyes narrow on me, but she does what I ask, opening the box and rummaging around in the cereal until she pulls out the pink bubble.
“No.”
“Yes.” I nod.
Her hands shake as she cracks the plastic bubble open, and inside, nestled in tissue paper, is the ring. The massive diamond catches the candlelight and throws tiny rainbows across us.
"Justin ..." Tears are already streaming down her face.
I grab her hand and slide the ring on. “Now everything is perfect,” I tell her.
“It’s so huge.”
“That’s what she said.” I wink. Which earns me a glare. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s so big. I mean … wow.”
“You deserve the perfect ring,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck, and then kisses me.
Fuck, how I have missed her. "Will you keep being my wife?"
She laughs through the tears. "Yes! I’m all in.”
“Good.”
She buries her face in my chest, shoulders shaking, and I hold her, pressing my lips to the top of her head and thinking about how months ago I was trying to fight my feelings for my best friend, and now she's my wife.
"I love you," she says against my chest.
“I love you too. You’ve made me the happiest man in New York.”