Page 63 of Slap Shot Surprise
“No, Ari. No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want that. I never want to wonder if he’s with me just because I got pregnant. And I never, ever,everwant him to resent either me or the baby for slowing down or putting an end to his hockey career.”
“Maybe he could have both,” Ari suggested. “Dash and I make it work with his acting career.”
“You guys are different. You knew each other, had history together—and you fell in lovebeforeyou had children. You never had to worry about why he chose you. It’s not the same for me. Forget it.”
Ari pouted. “Fine, but only because he hates to cuddle.”
“Who hates to cuddle?” Dash came out the sliding screen door onto the patio, dropping a kiss on Ari’s head before taking the chair next to her.
“Joe Lupo,” she said.
I tried to defend him. “He doesn’t really hate to cuddle, he just doesn’t like to share a bed.”
Dash made a face at me. “So did you get pregnant in the back seat of his car?”
“Oh Jesus. I’m leaving.” I slid my chair from the table and stood. “I have to open the historical society at noon. We always have good foot traffic on a Saturday, so I don’t want to be late.”
“Maybe we’ll put the kids in the stroller and walk into town,” Ari said. “We’ll poke our heads in and say hi.”
“Sounds great. Bye guys.” Giving them a wave, I hurried down the driveway toward my car, which was parked on the street. I had plenty of time, but I had no desire to talk any more about Joe Lupo, cuddling, or where I got pregnant.
And as for any hope that Joe and I would get together, the sooner Ari gave it up, the better. I knew she just wanted me to be as happy as she was, but not everyone’s path to love and marriage and family was a straight line.
Some people just got lucky.
Summer turned to fall, setting the trees ablaze with color. I admired them on the power walks I now took every evening, since I lacked the energy to run or even jog.
Cherry Tree Harbor’s tourist season remained in full swing, but families with children were replaced by couples or groups of friends who ventured north for hikes and leaf peeping. This was also a crowd who appreciated architectural history, so we stayed busy at the historical society with the Painted Lady Showcase, a guided walking tour of local Victorian homes that had been restored to their original exterior colors.
Classes at the community college began, which occupied my Tuesday and Thursday evenings and much of my weekend for planning or grading.
Deposits started showing up in my bank account. I started to make lists of things I needed to do at home, such as turn my office into a nursery, and big items I’d need to purchase, such as a car seat and stroller and crib. I spent an hour in my local bookshop looking at books on pregnancy and parenting, and bought several to take home. I even purchased one for first-time fathers thinking I’d send it to Joe, since he seemed nervous about being a dad, but by the time I got home, I lost my nerve. I set it on the coffee table in the living room with mine, figuring maybe I’d mail it in a month or two.
And finally, hockey season began.
I texted Joe asking how I could watch his games.
You want to watch my games?
Yes!
My guess is that your network will carry only Detroit, so you’ll probably need a subscription service to stream Chicago’s games.
How do I go about getting that?
I’ll take care of it for you.
And he did.
I’d never paid much attention to hockey before, but I made an effort to learn the rules, the positions, the penalties, the lingo. I Googled things. I lurked on forums, always looking for mentions of Joe’s name. I’d go over to Austin’s house or Xander’s bar and watch Detroit games with them, asking questions and studying the plays. Pretty soon, I found myself cheering just as loud as anyone in the room, understanding why play stopped and started, and appreciating a beautiful breakaway or stellar pass.
But I liked watching Chicago best.
Joe’s team was off to a fantastic start, and I kept track of their record on a piece of paper I stuck to the fridge with a Cherry Tree Harbor Historical Society magnet.
Often I texted Joe to congratulate him on a great game or tell him a penalty was bullshit or ask why something had gone down the way it had. He always explained things to me, and he was very patient, a good teacher. I told him I thought so.
Have you ever coached little kids or anything?
