Page 84 of My Wife
“So you showed up at the Ice Palace wearing some loser’s jersey.”
My jaw tightens. “That was your takeaway?”
He grunts.
“Also, if I’m not mistaken, that loser is on your team and so am I. Er, was. Despite being a captain, you really don’t play well with others.”
“My job is to lead.”
“I don’t know how your coach evaluates your performance, but if it were up to me, you’d get maybe one gold star instead of five. The example you’re setting for your son could use improvement.”
“Good thing you’re not my coach.”
The comment reminds me that I’m nothing to this man other than the person who fetches his coffee, makes his appointments, and takes care of the son he may very well be ashamed of.
My nose twitches and my eyes tingle. “I thought it would be nice for you, for us, to be there to tell you that KJ has some hearing ability.” I start to tell him the prognosis and the super positive outlook the doctor had for some hearing with assistance in KJ’s future. Grandma Dolly was ecstatic. It was, dare I say, music to her ears.
How does Mr. Meanie respond? With a curt nod.
Liquid brims in my eyes. “You don’t care, do you?”
Liam’s nostrils flare.
Anger burns through all the positive slogans, affirmations, and upbeat quips I arm myself with to combat the ever-present shadow of pain from my own childhood, where no one cared until Grandma Dolly came along.
Squaring up to him, I say, “If it weren’t for KJ, I’d quit and write you a strongly worded letter, including but not limited to I hope you’re happy with your stupid, solitary existence where the only thing that keeps you company is the ice which will never keep you warm at night.”
Liam’s chest heaves like he’s going to explode.
I stand my ground, unafraid. “You try to be all big and intimidating. When really you’re just a miserable, lonely, sad, sad man.”
His face hardens and he remains unmoved, a stony pillar of ice, chilling everything around him.
“There’s nothing you could do to me that hasn’t already been done and yet I am still standing, Liam Ellis. I will stand up for your son and kids like him, like me, until I take my last breath. Kids who were abandoned, unwanted.” Each word I speak is a promise.
He blinks a few times as if coming out of a trance or surfacing from his thoughts—probably replaying the game in his mind. Stupid hockey. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think I do. You’ve made how little you care abundantly clear.”
He shakes his head, somehow warming the room with the movement. His voice is tight when he says, “No, Jessica. The problem is I care too much.”
And just like that, his mood goes from cold to hot. Not hot likehubba hubba, #MrDarcysAbs, but overcome with emotion as his eyes glass over. However, just as soon as I notice, he blinks it away.
I lift my chin, not done with this showdown. “If that’s the case, you could work on showing it better. Maybe even a smile from time to time. A kind word goes a long way. You could also talk about what’s on your mind. Let people in a little. I mean, even a hint could help.”
He scrubs his palm along his stubble as if trying to massage out an explanation. “If I mess up …”
I lift my eyebrows, hoping that by showing interest in what he has to say, I’ll coax him into using his words.
“If I make a mistake—” He shakes his head.
“Let me see if I can help you. When you saw us at the arena, the proper response was to gather KJ into your arms, give him a big papa bear hug, and show him how happy you were to see him.”
Liam’s expression returns to a careful mask, but he’s listening, so that’s progress.
“Then you’d exclaim your surprise at seeing us there with smiles and a cake. You’d ask about the special occasion.”
His grunt sounds slightly more like an invitation to continue like he’s taking notes, or maybe that’s just the hopeful optimist in me.
