Page 80 of Season's Schemings
The thought has me practically running out of the arena. I can’t wait to find my husband.
Hug him.
Remind him that there’s always the next game. And the one after that.
And I’ll be here for all of them.
I round the corner to the crowded concourse, which smells of stale popcorn and spilled beer and body odor, and start fighting my way through the sea of maroon jerseys towards the players’ area.
I shouldn’t have left the comfort of the family box… but on the other hand, I’m very glad that I did. I wanted to make sure that Seb saw me on his way into the tunnel. Knew that I was there for him.
Like I said in my vows—for better, and for worse.
And yes, I’m pretty sure I hiccupped my way through that line and Elvis had to thump me on the back until I could speak again, but that’s neither here nor there.
I’m racing against the crowd, weaving in and out of human traffic, when a very familiar figure appears in my peripheral. Two, in fact.
“Dad?” I blink in surprise, waving at him. “And Mr. Plumlee. Hi.”
I forgot that the VIP tickets Seb gave them for Christmas were for tonight’s game. Pity about the game’s outcome, but those were great seats, at least.
“Hello, Maddie.” My stepdad offers me a thin smile and a little pat on the arm, while Mr. Plumlee gives me a quick grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. I notice with some relief and more indifference that Adam doesn’t seem to be lurking in any dark corners alongside them. “Nice to see you. And it was good to see your… husband out there tonight.”
Is it me, or did his voice tighten on the wordhusband?
He’s probably just hoarse from yelling during the game. Or more likely, he’s making an allusion to the Cyclones’ unfortunate—and in my entirely hockey uneducated but very biased opinion, totally unfair—loss.
I give them both a placid look. “Did Jax come with you?” I ask mildly. Hopefully.
“He came with a friend. Left already.”
Phew.If Jax brought a friend tonight, it means that Adam must’ve given up his ticket. Which means that my ex didn’t show. Which means that he may very well be an official ex-Cyclones fan now. Ha.
Mischief Managed, as Wathwart would say.
“Oh. Pity.” A beat of slightly strained silence hangs in the air, and then, I wiggle my All-Access Pass in the air like a weirdo. “Well, I better run. I want to catch Seb when he comes out of the locker room.”
“I saw him the other day,” Richard says mildly.
I pause mid-step. “Oh?”
“Sebastian,” he confirms. “He was at our law offices, visiting Roger.” He quiets for a long second. “Roger specializes in immigration for professional athletes.”
Of course Seb’s lawyer would work at Richard’s firm.
It’s almost laughable how predictably annoying that is.
“Oh.” I purse my lips. “Yes. Well, as you know, Seb’s Canadian and we’re getting his green card sorted out. You know, now that he’s a married man and what have you,” I waffle, suddenly wanting to stick my tongue out and run away like a bratty six-year-old.
Unfortunately, Richard’s staring at me with such an intensity that I feel a single movement in the wrong direction might have him turn his nose all the way up at me like I’m an unruly bug traipsing across his lawyer-y desk.
“Oh I know,” my stepdad says. “I stepped in to see Roger after Sebastian’s appointment, and he informed me that you two are headed for your interviews with the immigration officials soon.”
I nod. “Yup. We have an appointment booked.”
Richard smiles thinly again. “He wasalsoable to inform me that there’s a new contract in the works for Sebastian that would mean he’s able to apply for a green card of his own merit. Play hockey here for as long as he desires, without being tied to the conditional green card he’d obtain by filing the spousal application with you, Maddie.”
A strange chill runs through me as my stepdad’s words fall heavy on my chest.