“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Tyler says quietly. He looks around. “Right, guys?”
“Absolutely.” The guys all nod and for some reason that makes me tear up.
Stu gets up and hands me a tissue.
Chapter Four
Zaan
* * *
The first time I laid eyes on Lexi was at a team party. Her dad, Coach Rousseau, was still playing at the time, and I was a rookie. I knew fooling around with a teammate’s daughter would be tricky, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. And lucky for me, not only did she feel the same, her dad was cautious but not opposed to it.
She was less than a year post-mastectomy back then, extremely self-conscious about her body, and the saddest and most beautiful girl in the world. At least, to me. We had our ups and downs as she followed her dreams to be a singer and I was pulled away with hockey, but we found our way back to each other.
Nearly a decade later, she’s my wife and now we’re going to have a baby.
It’s wild to me how we’ve come so far, despite the challenges presented by our careers. We both travel a lot, and her career takes her away for months at a time. And yet, we make it work with a lot of communication, as much love as we can possibly show each other, and some random pre-emptive marriage counseling along the way.
I wouldn’t trade our life for anything.
I’m a little worried about her, though.
Her pregnancy is going to throw a wrench in her career plans, and the idea of not going on tour is weighing on her. I don’t know how to help, either. It’s May and I’m in the playoffs. She’s in the studio doing a duet with a new band called Crimson Edge and starting rehearsals for Nobody’s Fool’s tour. It’s a lot even for someone who isn’t pregnant, much less someone whose pregnancy is technically high-risk.
Dr. Diaz says she’s fine for now, but we have to watch carefully because we just don’t know what kind—if any—lingering damage there is from the chemo and radiation. We truly didn’t believe she would ever get pregnant without extreme measures. Hell, we’ve put money aside for a surrogate. But our miracle has happened and everything inside of me wants to protect her. Even if it means protecting her from herself.
Except my strong, independent wife isn’t having it.
She’s still going at a hundred miles per hour, so to speak, not missing a beat personally or professionally. We’ve known for a week but the only other people who know are the band and management, her dad and stepmom, my parents, and me.
And it’s killing me not to tell people.
She wants to wait until she’s past the first trimester, but that’s still nearly three weeks away.
“Hey, man.” My buddy Anton comes over and starts putting away his things in the locker next to mine. Practice is optional this morning, but I need to get out of the house because otherwise, I just pace and worry.
“Morning.” I nod in his direction.
“How are you?” He gives me a weird look, and I realize he knows.
Of course.
His wife Sasha is Lexi’s band’s manager.
She would have told him.
Thank fuck.
“Freaking out,” I say, leaning against the wall.
“Lexi okay?” he asks quietly.
“She’s fine. I’m the one who’s a mess.”
“How come?”
“Well, you know—that whole thing how we thought we’d never get pregnant or what the cancer treatment may have done to her body.”
