Page 91 of My Wife
LIAM
We hadour rules and Jessica threw them out the window like a bouquet of helium balloons.
Except one.
I left her one of my jerseys and a piece of chocolate. I regret my behavior and that my default setting is to jerk. I want to change that. For her. For KJ. I’m pleased to see she’s wearing it at my game against the Mustangs.
She’s also here with the little guy, which is a big deal.
I flash them a sign after we score a goal and they both clap and cheer.
I can only imagine the speculation. But perhaps anyone paying attention will think she’s a single mom and we’re friends.
But the feelings I’ve developed for Jessica aren’t friendly. They’re not acrimonious either. More like strong. Bigger than I’ve ever felt.
She makes my heart pound.
My breath shallow.
The woman grew a smile inside of me so big, that I imagine it’s going to break out any minute.
But one of the Mustangs’ defensemen drives toward me to make room for his forward to pocket the puck. I deke and pivot, turning the tables at the same time Grady swipes the biscuit. Hayden offers an assist and then slaps the puck to ‘Bama who slams it into the net.
Our goal song comes on and the arena chants along.
I skate to the boards and press my hand to the glass just in case the kid doesn’t know it’s me under this helmet. I was always so proud to see my dad out there, a titan on the ice. Scoring goals and taking names.
My son grins ear to ear and then scrambles out of Jessica’s arms and starts to try to scale the glass. Now, we’re really making a scene. I’ll deal with the fallout later.
Grandma Dolly plies him with a cookie and he returns to sitting.
After the win, the three of them meet me in the hall outside the locker room.
It’s like a do-over from before. I’m prepared this time.
It’s rare for me to have people waiting—other than occasionally my family.
A thought floats through my mind, this is my family. At least here in Cobbiton.
Grandma Dolly signs, congratulating me on the win. Asks to see my abs. I pretend not to understand.
Jessica speaks and signs, “I promised KJ that he could touch the ice.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I’m eager to get out of here to avoid questions but lead them to the rink.
It’s time for me to shift priorities, but that doesn’t make it easy. It’s one thing to know what to do, but an entirely different thing to understand how.
No sooner do we exit the warm room, the child goes bonkers, it’s like I let a bull into an arena draped in red. He slides in his little sneakers onto the ice, arms windmilling, but I don’t need to catch him before he finds his balance. The Zamboni just resurfaced the ice and he glides.
Grandma Dolly signs, “Looks like a natural.”
She’s got that right. “Everyone says that about their kid, but wow.”
“Takes after his dad,” Jessica says and signs.
A little beam of pride shoots through me.
She lifts onto her toes and whispers into my ear, “Remember when I said I don’t want hockey to ruin KJ like it has you? I’m sorry.”
