Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Hailey
While nothing specifically changes with my relationship with Jason now that we’re officially married—I still sleep in my own room, we still hang out and chat like friends, but after the wedding, he hasn’t touched or kissed me again.
Which is normal, considering this isn’t a romantic marriage.
It’s a business arrangement so I can have insurance and support while I get established here. It’s just that part of me thought …
Well, it doesn’t matter. That’s the preteen with a crush part of me. Not the adult who knows better.
Lots of other things change the next week, though.
Jason starts training camp, which means I have his condo to myself for long stretches of time.
According to Marissa, I’ll need to get used to this because during the season—which lasts until next April for the regular season, longer if they make it to the playoffs again—he’ll be gone about every other week for away games.
Marissa also said that they’ve made it to the playoffs the last few years, though they haven’t managed to get to the Stanley Cup final.
The reception dinner, complete with a cake that Marissa and Dozer found at a local bakery, was more fun than I would’ve expected.
And we even did the traditional cake cutting together, with Jason being surprisingly tender as he fed me a bite.
I was a little worried he might try to smash it in my face, but he’d simply held out a small piece, his face open and sincere, though something flashed in his eyes when I ate it from his hand.
When it was my turn to feed him, I understood that look on his face when his lips made contact with my fingers.
Despite his friends chanting, “Smash it! Smash it!” I chose to return his kindness—though I did grin at him like I was considering it for a second.
But feeding someone like that is more intimate than I’d expected, and it sent a flash of heat through my whole body from that brief moment of contact.
While we ate, we all talked about the upcoming season, with everyone making their predictions about how well they’d do. Everyone but me seemed to know a lot about the sport. Which, obviously the guys would, since they play. But I hadn’t realized how into hockey both Maggie and Marissa were before.
And that’s when I found out that Maggie works for the Emeralds’ front office as their social media manager. Marissa works in auto parts sales as the regional manager up here, but is apparently a die-hard sports fan.
“I grew up on football and baseball,” she told me at one point.
“Same. Well, baseball, anyway,” Maggie put in. “Then my ex-husband was super into basketball, so I know a lot about that too. But I’ve been covering all sports for social media for a while now, so I know a lot about hockey too.”
Grinning, Marissa turned back to me. “I never followed hockey until I met Dozer, but I can see the appeal.”
“My brother played football when I was a kid,” I offer, searching for any grounds to relate to them, even if it’s as distant as that.
Marissa grinned. “Mine did too.”
Jason reached for my hand under the table, giving it a squeeze at my mention of Hunter, however oblique.
Fortunately, conversation had moved back to hockey at that point, and Jason had casually put his arm around the back of my chair, caressing my shoulder. To anyone else, it would look like normal affection, but he and I both knew it was support, even if we didn’t dwell on Hunter.
While Jason’s at training camp, I spend my days lounging, practicing, and looking for places to teach and perform. I heard back from the audition coach I emailed before moving here, but he doesn’t have room in his schedule for me. He did recommend someone else, though, so I’ve emailed her.
If the goal is for me to establish myself, I need to get started. I’d intended to hit the ground running, but getting sick and then planning a last-minute wedding sort of derailed that plan.
Toward the end of the first week of training camp, I get a text from Marissa.
Marissa
You busy tomorrow afternoon?
The only thing on my schedule is practicing
Is that something you need to do at a set time? Or can you just do it whenever as long as it gets done?
The second. Why? What’s happening tomorrow afternoon?
Yay! Okay. You, me, Maggie, and Tina are having a spa day. It’s going to be super fun. We’ll have massages and mimosas and you’ll get to meet Tina. She’s been dying to meet you, and this way you’ll know someone else when preseason games start in a couple weeks
“Why do I need to know someone else before preseason games?” I ask myself quietly. Unless …
Marissa and Maggie have both mentioned wives and girlfriends as a kind of group before. WAGs, I think they said, which sounds ridiculous, if you ask me. But I guess no one asked me. Either way, it seems like I’m part of this group now—since I’m a wife. That’s so weird …
I’m a wife. Of a hockey player. And somehow inducted into an elite group of women who all attend games, or so it seems.
Which I think means that I’m expected to attend games, too.
But what if I have a gig? Or a symphony concert? Do I get an excuse if I’m working too?
Do I need an excuse? It’s not like it’s school …
Either way, Marissa’s reaching out, and I’ve been lamenting my lack of real friendships for a while, even before I moved here. It’d be dumb for me to turn her down, even if I don’t necessarily want to go to every single hockey game Jason plays.
Sounds good. What time?
We have a reservation at 2. I’ll pick you up at 1:30
See you then!
That response is entirely more chirpy than my actual personality, but I want to seem excited. And I am, even if I’m not a hundred percent sure what exactly I’m getting into.
I’ve had a massage a couple times in college—Paul got me one as a gift for Valentine’s Day once, and I sprang for one as a graduation gift to myself. But money’s been too tight to splurge on something like that ever since.
Either way, I know massages are nice. It’s the rest I’m a little unsure about. I’ve never been the type to be part of a girl group that does spa days and drinks mimosas, so I’m not sure how that’ll work exactly, but I’m willing to give it a try.
When Jason gets home later, I’m sitting on the couch watching a show. He grins at me, though weariness seems to drag down his shoulders. “Hey! How was your day?”
“Good. I got good practice in, and I scheduled my audition. It’s in three weeks.”
“Oooh, that’s great. Good luck!”
“Thanks!” I grin at him, really enjoying this kind of back and forth. He’s so supportive, cheering me on, telling me how amazing it is that I’m getting things lined up already.
“I also found out about sub auditions for the Seattle Symphony. They’re a few months out, so I have time to prepare. And I’m working on finding an audition coach.” I fill him in on emailing the person I was referred to.
Nodding, he heads to his bedroom with his duffel bag, then reappears a second later, empty-handed.
“That sounds smart. Even as a professional athlete, we have coaches. Sure, I know”—he taps his temple—“all the things I’m supposed to do.
But it helps to have someone who can see the big picture, who knows how we’re all supposed to fit and work together to make that a reality.
I know music isn’t exactly the same, but having someone who can listen and analyze what you’re doing to help you be your best? That makes total sense to me.”
“And you’re still okay with how much it’ll cost?”
He frowns at me. “Of course. I thought we talked about this already.”
“I know, but …”
Letting out an exasperated breath, he shakes his head.
“I told you that you get what you need while you’re here.
You need an audition coach? Find the best one and get on their schedule.
Oh, that reminds me.” He crosses to the counter where there’s a stack of mail.
“I already added you to my credit card. Your card came.” Flipping through the envelopes, he pulls one out and brings it to me.
“I don’t know how audition coaches normally like to get paid, but if you need a checkbook for your bank account, we can get one of those too. ”
“My bank account?”
He arches an eyebrow. “I told you I’d set one up in your name before we signed the prenup. There’s a checking and savings account for you at my bank. I’m on the accounts too, but that’s just because I set them up. You can take me off if you want to.”
“No, I …” I grapple for words, not sure what to say. “That’s not … I hadn’t realized …”
“Hailey,” he says, his voice soft as he steps in front of me, pushing the coffee table back to make room for himself and sitting on it so we’re eye to eye.
“I thought I made it clear that you can get what you need. Period. If it makes you feel better to discuss large purchases with me, that’s fine, just to keep me in the loop.
But you don’t need permission unless you’re gonna, I dunno, try to buy a jet.
Or a house. Or something like that. For just regular, every day stuff? Get what you need. The end.”
I blink a few times. “Your definition of a large purchase is a jet?”
He scratches his cheek, then shrugs. “I mean, that seems pretty large, don’t you think?”
“Right. Yeah. But, uh … what’s the floor on your definition of ‘large purchase?’ Because that seems like a more realistic question. There’s no way I’m going to be off trying to buy a jet tomorrow or something.”
His eyes light up when he grins like he finds the idea of me jet shopping really funny but also adorable.
“Um, well, if you want to buy a car, let me know. I think that would qualify as a big purchase. Like I said, a house, though I feel like that requires discussion more than just from a money angle. Like, what’s wrong with this place? I thought you liked it here.”
“What? I do. I’m not going house shopping.”
“Right. Okay. Glad we cleared that up.”
I laugh at his ridiculousness. “I didn’t think that was ever at issue.”
“Well, still. It’s good to know you like it here.
It works well for my needs.” He rubs his chin, staring off to the left as he thinks.
“I mean, I’d appreciate it if you’d talk to me about any furniture purchases because, again, I like what I have.
That’s more of a functional issue, though, rather than a financial one.
Umm …” He refocuses on me, his brows knitted together.
“What do you consider a large purchase that you might want to make?”
I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know. Uh … so, you don’t consider paying for lessons to be a big expense.”
His shoulders lift. “I mean, I guess it could be if you’re talking thousands of dollars per session or something.”
“I doubt it’s that much. Probably a hundred? Hundred and fifty? I’m not sure how much this lady charges.”
He brushes that aside. “Yeah, fine. No big deal. Anything else?”
Feeling like pressing my luck, I raise my eyebrows. “A new violin?”
“Do you need one? For real?”
“I mean … that hasn’t been an option, so, not … really. Though I’ve thought about getting a carbon fiber acoustic electric to use for busking and outdoor gigs. Those are like a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars, though, so it’s never been in my budget.”
“Okay, so let’s set that as the floor. If we’re talking thousands, please let me know before you spend it. I probably won’t care, but it’s nice to be informed.”
“Uh … okay.”
He stands. “You want some dinner? I got some steaks the other day, and I’ve had them marinating since this morning.”
“That sounds good. You want me to put together a salad?”
Grinning, he heads for the kitchen. “That would be perfect. Oh, and when you’re done—or later tonight, at least—send me some links to those violins you were talking about.”
“What? Why?”
He blinks at me, his face the picture of innocence. “I never got my wife a wedding gift. I’ve been informed by my teammates that I’m a terrible husband for not doing that, and it sounds like that would be perfect for you.”
I stare blankly at him for a second. “You want to get me a wedding gift?”
“Of course I do,” he says, ducking into the fridge but not before I see the smile he’s failing to suppress. “Oh, and Hailey?” he adds as he pulls out the steaks. “Pick the one you actually want. Not the cheapest one you can find.” Closing the fridge, he locks eyes with me. “Got it?”
I roll my eyes, but I know better than to argue with him at this point. “Yes, sir.”