Page 78 of From Maybe to Baby

Even Lukas has synced up with Alexa’s system, getting dressed on the first ask instead of only after a series of stressful negotiations.

“If we’re fast, Lexa says we can do pretend hockey drills before school,” he tells me, wrestling with his shoelaces but batting my hands away when I offer to help. “Hockey players tie their own laces, Dad.”

Frenchie, our nanny, notices the change as soon as she steps in.

“The kids, they are... different,” she observes, watching Lukas tidy up his toys without the usual repeat requests. “Perhaps more... settled?”

“Thanks to some professional guidance,” Alexa shouts from the kitchen.

“Très professionelle,” Frenchie chuckles, giving me a knowing look. “And you, Jonas, you seem lighter. Like you’ve shed a burden, yes?”

She’s spot on. Things do feel lighter. And smoother. It’s like the puzzle pieces I didn’t know were missing are being found. I don’t know if I like it, or if it’s scaring the shit out of me.

Or both.

At the rink, practice sessions are tighter, more focused—probably because I’m actually sleeping through the night now that Alexa’s bedtime story routine has cut down on the kids’ bartering. My games are crisper, my mind sharper.

It’s fucking strange.

My media duties are less of a drag, and Vince’s efforts to trot me out as the “face of the team” seem a bit more tolerable, maybe because Alexa started sneaking Jace’s stickers onto my interview cards “for luck.” Vince nearly lost it when I pulled out a card covered in sparkly unicorns during a live ESPN interview in view of everyone, but even he had to admit afterward that the interview was a hit.

“You’re disgustingly chipper,” my good buddy Rake teases during a warm-up. “You’re messing with the team’s mood.”

“How does my being happy mess with your mood? And further, why should I give a shit? Your mood, or that of the team’s is none of my concern,” I scoff at him, just to be extra dick-ish.

“It sets the bar too high for the single guys. Not everyone gets a stunning travel writer dropped into their lap.”

“She’s here for her article, for one, but two, why should I feel sorry for single guys? After all, I am one of them, in case you forgot.”

“You’re widowed, not single.”

“I am widowedandsingle, you moron.”

He twists the wedding ring on his finger, unsure how to argue back.

The annoying, nosy-ass observations aren’t limited to Rake or the team. The next comes during our latest video chat with my mother-and father-in-law, who’s taken up a new interest in my little family after a couple years of indifference. I think it just hurt him too much to be involved in our lives. Not sure what changed, but the two of them have picked up on the changes happening around us.

“The kids seem... happier,” Gloria observes cautiously during a quick visit between her social engagements, watching Jace show Alexa her latest homework project—a bizarre but effective system involving stickers and a complex point system that I’m still trying to wrap my head around. “It’s like they’ve found their...”

“Rhythm?” I suggest.

“Family,” she corrects, her eyes shimmering. “They’ve found their family again. And you...” She pauses, her voice cracking, “You remind me of how you were when you and Genny first...”

She doesn’t finish, thank God. I don’t need to hear it. Because I feel it too—that sense of rightness, if I can call it that.

I really don’t want to think too hard about it. This is a moment in time. A nice one, but it’s not forever. Alexa will be gone, eventually, and we’ll all be back to square one. Whatever that is.

“Genny would be overjoyed,” she continues, steadying her voice, “to see you all like this...”

I change the subject using some lame-ass excuse I’m sure Gloria can see right through.

That night, after the kids are tucked in and dreams are already taking them on adventures, I find Alexa in the kitchen, updating a shared calendar she created.

“Getting quite domestic, aren’t you?” I tease as I peek over her shoulder.

“Just thorough research,” she replies, her smile broad as she pencils in another hockey game. “Can’t write about family life without immersing myself in it, right? Needs detailed documentation.”

“Absolutely,” I nod, pulling her close, feeling her fit perfectly against me. “Your dedication is commendable.”

---