Page 75 of Season's Schemings
Roger nods stiffly. “Which you are.” He then shoots me a look that says a whole lot with absolutely no words. “But if the officer gets a hint of a whiff of a rat, I should warn you that the repercussions are… severe. Separate interviews, further questioning, possible fraud charges…”
He trails off, his watery eyes locked on my face. Meanwhile, my jaw sets. I see what he’s getting at here: he’s not sure he believes me, but he obviously can’t come out andsaythat, so he’s trying to make sure that I’m aware of how badly this could go.
“I understand,” I say.
He pauses for a long beat. “You’re sure it’s worth it, Mr. Slater?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “And, by the way, my wife goes by Mrs. Slater now.”
“Okay.” Roger frowns. “But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make both you andMrs. Slateraware that there may be another option…”
27
MADDIE
Chantal Holmes eats sushi as elegantly as she does everything else. She has mastered the art of using chopsticks, and she’s managed to get by without spilling even a single drop of soy sauce on her pristine white halterneck top.
She pops another piece of sashimi in her mouth with finesse while I fight with my own chopsticks so I can clumsily pick up a California roll.
Damn Adam and his unreasonable dislike of most Asian foods—AKA some of the best food in the world. Due to a serious lack of sushi dates over the years, my chopstick work is subpar, at best.
“Doing okay over there?” Seb interrupts his hockey talk with Mal to look at me with these dorky, soft eyes that make me feel a whole lot of something in my (currently very empty, thanks to said chopstick incompetence) stomach.
“Fabulous,” I say. And I mean it. Because I’m happy as a little clam right now, sitting here with Seb, and his lovely teammate, and his teammate’s lovely wife.
Since we’ve come back from the cabin, I’ve been in total wedded bliss with my extremely flirtatious and loving and sexy to boot husband, who seems to be as obsessed with me as I am with him.
We’ve had the best time together the last couple of days, both at home and at work. And he also took me to visit the brand-new, out-of-this-world wonderful, create-space he gifted me with for Christmas. It’s somehow exactly what I dreamed of, without actually realizing it’s what I wanted. If that makes sense. It’s spacious and flooded with light from big windows, boasting metal countertops and a huge stainless steel fridge and so many appliances, I’ve spent literal hours just trying to catalog it all.
And now, I’m actually looking forward to being back in the family box at tomorrow night’s game, wearing Seb’s name on my back like the proud wifey that I am.
Turns out he could—and did—make a hockey fan of me, after all.
As for the hungry thing… I can always use my fingers to retrieve food when nobody else is watching, right?
“I love sushi,” Chantal says, all smiles as she expertly secures another roll. “Maddie, we should totally organize watch nights for the wives and girlfriends when the guys are playing away. But instead of beer and wings, we’ll have sushi and champagne.”
“I love that idea!”
She leans forward, as if conspiring with me. “I also think it’ll be a good way to help us girls get through the playoff season. Because that’s looking more and more likely now.”
“Hell yeah, it is!” Mal holds up a hand towards Seb, who willingly smacks it. “Playoffs, here we come!”
I have to laugh at their unabashed enthusiasm before turning back to Chantal while also attempting to stab yet another sushi roll with my chopsticks. “What do you mean, help us get through the playoff season?”
“Well, being married to a hockey player is a big enough commitment in itself, and it’swaymore intense when the playoffs start. The guys spend more time on the road, more time at practice… they basically eat, sleep and breathe hockey. But making the playoffs this year means the world to Mal. They WILL make it, and I will support my husband one hundred percent.” Chantal sighs sweetly, gazing at her husband. “But… I can’t say I’m super upset that he’s retiring at the end of the season. We’ll get to spend more time together, even if he pursues coaching or sportscasting or something.” Another smile. “In the meantime though, I thought starting a wifey support group slash lonely hearts sushi club would be a nice project during Mal’s final season.”
Chantal picks up another piece of sashimi and pops it into her mouth contentedly. Meanwhile, I’ve given up on my sushi stabbing for the minute as I process her words. Playoffs have seemed so far away… but I guess they’re happening in just a few short months.
Seb, who apparently checked back into our conversation at some point, chuckles deeply. “That’s quite the catchy name. You should get T-shirts made.”
Chantal rolls her eyes at him, laughing, too, and the conversation soon turns to New Year’s Eve. Apparently, it’s a tradition for the team to have a huge party that night. A party at which Tony Torresalwayslets his hair down.
Mal’s telling an extremely enthusiastic recounting of last year’s party when, after a few too many, Coach Torres sang a “You’re The One That I Want” karaoke duet with Triple J, and I think I might burst my appendix from laughing too hard.
“I can’t wait!” I wheeze at the thought of stern Coach Torres pretending to be Danny fromGreaseon stage.
“You’ll have to make sure that Seb enjoys the party too, Maddie,” Mal says to me with a wink. “Last year, he only made a quick appearance before going home at 9pm because he had an early morning personal training session. On New Year’s Day!”