Page 1 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
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“This is a bad idea,” my teammate mutters from beside me.
I pause next to Leo on the sidewalk and can’t help but agree.
This place is bigger than Costco.
And it’s filled solely with baby products.
The Baby Emporium is…terrifying.
And I’m saying that as a man who plays professional hockey for a living.
But as captain of the San Jose Grizzlies, I can’t show fear.
I’m expected to lead—even if part of me knows my teammates are wondering when I’ll screw up again.
When the shit in my life will overflow and impact the team.
Again.
My temple throbs, but I shake it off, know I’ve spent far too many nights lying awake, staring up at the ceiling, shame the worst kind of bedmate.
“We got this,” I say, mostly to myself, and trudge toward the bank of plate glass doors, grabbing the handle and yanking one open.
Then wanting to promptly slam it shut and get the hell out of here.
The noise.
Good God, the noise.
“Fuck,” Leo mutters from next to me.
“Buck up, boys!” Smitty, another teammate who, along with Ryan, is accompanying me on this shopping trip.
Or hijacking it, really.
Because Aiden’s baby shower is next weekend.
His co-ed baby shower.
What kind of fresh hell is that?
One that’s going to have me attending a co-ed baby shower on my day off when I’d much rather be rotting in front of my TV or if I’m feeling energetic, getting dressed in adult clothes and driving to the movie theater not far away, buying a huge bucket of buttered popcorn and a soda big enough to quench the thirst of an elephant, then rotting in front of a giant screen while an action hero diffuses bombs with seconds to spare and makes jumps between buildings that are impossible and always gets the bad guy.
Though, as much as I like going to the movies, I don’t often feel energetic on my days off because my work days include hockey games, hockey practices, off-ice hockey training to keep honing my hockey skills, and working out for hours in the weight room to strengthen my hockey-playing body.
So usually if I have a choice, I’m flat out on my couch.
Something that hasn’t prepared me for this shopping extravaganza.
“I didn’t know I could hear this frequency,” Leo mutters.
I want to chuckle because Leo can be fucking funny.
But I’m too busy trying to focus so we can get this shit done.
