Page 76 of Season's Schemings

“It was important!” Seb protests.

I give him a playful jab in the ribs. “This year, we’ll make sure we’reboththere ‘til at least midnight. I love New Year’s Eve, it’s my favorite!”

This draws a chuckle from my husband. “Of course you do, it’s full of the ultimate Hallmark moments—the glamorous parties, the countdown, the kissing at midnight…”

“Well, you both better enjoy it.” Mal reaches for the soy sauce and tops up his little dish. “Because that’s gonna be the last chance for us to have fun until we get through the season and postseason, and win the whole damn thing.”

The glint in Mal’s dark eyes is steely and determined. He’s going to throw everything behind this singular goal.

I recognize that look… I’ve seen it on my own husband many times. These guys are going to do their damndest to win the Stanley Cup this year, and while I’m honored that I get to be the woman behind the scenes, supporting Seb’s shot at victory, Chantal’s right: it’s a big commitment to be married to someone so dedicated to their sport. To their goals.

I pluck a tuna avocado roll from the tray with my fingers and put it all in my mouth, chewing furiously to try and quell the strange sensation suddenly brewing in my stomach.

The holidays were amazing, but Seb has a championship to win. And while I know this, I find that I’m greedy for him—for his time, his attention, the different ways he looks at me like I’m this glorious puzzle he’s having a blast figuring out. I want to spend all my time with him… But I also have to remember that I’m a hockey wife. And though Seb has been balancing his priorities differently lately, his life is still built on hockey.

The glint in Mal’s eyes? That same fire burns in Seb’s every time he talks about what it’s going to take for him to help lead the Cyclones to glory this spring.

And isn’t that why we’re married in the first place? So that he could keep playing hockey and help give the Cyclones a chance at dominating in this year’s playoffs?

Hockey needs to come first for Seb for the foreseeable future. And Iwillbe okay with that.

I take a long gulp of my water and am relieved when the topic changes again to how successful the toy drive was. Chantal drops gossip that Carter Callahan’s wife was puking in the bathroom all evening, fueling rumors that she might be pregnant.

“Wow, that’s great!” I exclaim happily—and I am happy for them.

But I’m also very aware of the spot on my thigh where Seb’s big hand rests. His wedding band glints on his ring finger, and I find that I can’t wait for dinner to be over so I can be alone with my husband. Safe in our little bubble where I can just think about how I’m falling for him, and he’s falling for me, and forget all about reality.

28

MADDIE

“Oh, wow. That makes everything feel very, very real.”

I prop myself up on one elbow to look at my husband laying beside me. In the background, a Food Network show—New Year’s Baking Bonanza!(because, apparently, the second one holiday ends, we are onto the next)—plays on TV.

Seb swallows, his blue eyes searching my face. “I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

“Me neither,” I say softly. He’s filled me in on his conversation with Roger this afternoon before our double sushi date, effectively popping the “avoid reality” bubble in which I was hoping to float off into bliss tonight. “Roger said that we need to prepare for the interview?”

“He did,” Seb says. Then, he hesitates for a moment. “He also said that if the interview doesn’t go well, there could be a ton of repercussions. For both of us.” His face is dead serious, his body tense as he looks at me.

“I know,” I say simply.

He rubs the heel of his hand against his eye, looking almost lost for a moment. The expression makes him appear younger, more vulnerable, than the man I’ve gotten to know so well. He bites his lower lip, his gaze trained carefully on the TV. “Well, Rogerdidsay that there could be a different way to do this… One that doesn’t involve you having to be my route to a green card. I could look at getting you out of this if you’re not feeling comfortable.”

My stomach twinges as I look at him, wondering what’s going through his head right now. Why on earth would he even be looking for another way when we’re already in the middle of executing this plan?

Is he getting cold feet about the green card? About staying married?

No. Surely not.

“I’m comfortable,” I tell him. “It’s what we agreed on, and I always stick to my word. Iwantto stick to my word.”

I’m gratified to see his entire body relax at this. His demeanor changes. And I know I’m right in saying this—he’s looking out for me, considering other avenues. Being thoughtful, as usual.

“You’re the best wife in the world.” He smiles suddenly, running a finger along my forearm and pulling a shiver out of me.

“I know.” I stretch out on the luxurious sheets. Seb has the most comfortable bed in the history of all beds, and taking my place in it has been wonderful. I really do love being married to this man. For more reasons than just his sheets of course. Though they certainly are a plus. “So, as a most excellent wife, do tell me how we can start prepping for this thing?”