Page 38 of Power Play

Bex’s cheery smile drops in an instant. “No thanks.”

“Come on. You don’t know⁠—”

“I do know, actually,” she says. “Not going there. Not again.”

Vanessa nods. “Okay. You know I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And reliving the worst mistake of my life is not what’s best for me,” she says with finality. “Drop it. Please.”

“Consider it dropped,” Vanessa says. “Come hang out with your godson.”

Bex squirms between us, hip-checking the blonde as she reaches for the baby. “Come to Auntie,” she says, snuggling him. He goes into her arms willingly, his chubby cheeks pressed into her neck.

“It’s the best, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“Baby snuggles.”

Bex grins. “Yeah. Especially when I get to give him back at the end.”

I laugh. That’s what I used to say. I loved playing with Emmy, but I would hand her back to Carter for the diapers and dirty work.

Now, it’s all on me. And, well, Al too. But with his practice and game schedule, he’s barely home. Eighty percent of the childcare falls to me.

And I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I love Emmy. But I’m also losing sight of who I am as a person. I’m starting to feel like a babysitter and not like me.

Who am I? I don’t even know anymore.

There’s commotion at the other end of the ice, and Emmy squeals and bangs her hands on the glass as men in black and gold skate out of the chute. The players take a few laps of the rink, skating by fast as lightning. I can’t find Al, until a figure zooms up to us, skidding to a stop barely a foot from the glass.

He’s even taller on his skates, broader from the padding, and his helmet strap hangs loose. With all the gear on, he looks big and imposing, but he’s still the same goofy, kind man with a heart of gold. I thought he was good-looking in general, but on the ice… My husband is hot.

Emmy screams when she sees him, trying to break through the glass to get to him.

“Hey, baby,” he says, pressing his glove against the glass.

I move her hand to his, so they can touch through the inch-thick plexiglass barrier.

The smile that lights up his face nearly brings tears to my eyes. He’s so in love with her, and she adores him.

Another player skates up to us, then a second, and before I know it, all the fathers have joined us, saying hello to their children.

Seb Henry, one of the goaltenders, looks comical in his extra-large padding beside his two-month-old daughter. Sven Larsson is playing peekaboo with Leo, and Mark Easton is waving at his two kids, a huge smile on his face.

Al catches my eye, and his happy grin makes my heart pound. He pokes at the glass, as if he’s tickling Emmy in her belly, and she shrieks with giggles. She can’t hear anything, not with the ear protection, but he’s talking to her as if she can.

With the noise of the arena, I can’t quite make out his words, but it almost looks like he’s saying I love you.

He’s talking to Emmy, of course. Not to me. That wouldn’t make sense.

Still, my heart aches. The only person who’s ever said those words to me is Carter, and now she’s gone.

Al raises his eyebrows at me. Are you okay? he mouths.

I force a smile onto my face, but I can’t fool him. His brown eyes are so expressive, clearly calling me on my bullshit.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of warm-ups, and Al lifts his hand, blowing Emmy a kiss. My face heats. What if it were me he was kissing? What if what we had was real?