We should be celebrating.
It’s practically a miracle that she’s pregnant, but she’s not happy. Well, she’s not as happy as I am, and it’s frustrating that I have to hold back because I’m positive it’ll piss her off if I start jumping up and down.
“Babe, tell me what you need.”
“If I knew, I would have already asked.”
Our eyes meet and I want to reach for her, but I don’t. Instead, I lean against the wall and wait. Lexi tends to do a lot of her thinking aloud. It’s her process, and I have to let her sort through it. This isn’t the place, and it’s definitely not the time, but that seems to be a theme with us right now.
“You should get to the arena,” she says after a moment. “Standing here arguing about how to handle something neither of us is equipped to handle makes no sense. And I’m really sorry—this is the worst time for you.”
“Don’t apologize. We’re in this together, no matter what the timing.” I narrow my gaze at her. “And don’t you dare tell me we’re not. We are. Not physically, I understand that, but in every other way, we’re in this together.”
“I love you,” she whispers.
“Then why do you sound so sad when you say it?”
“Because we both want to make this better somehow, but we can’t, so it’s a stalemate and you have to go to work. On top of that, now I feel guilty for having this conversation right before such a big game.”
I reach out my hand and simply wait.
She doesn’t notice at first but then her gaze travels down and she slowly slides her hand into mine.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I say, closing my fingers around hers as tightly as I can. “As long as we face this together, we’re going to make it work. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll come up with a plan. I can’t carry the baby for you, but I can take on everything else so that all you have to do is focus on incubating and singing.”
“You have hockey,” she whispers.
“Yeah, but I also have money. We have money. We’ve been talking about hiring a chef for a long time—let’s do it. He or she can feed us, so we don’t have to think about it. No more folding laundry in front of the TV—we get Hilda to do it.” Hilda is the head of the cleaning service we use.
“But I like folding laundry in front of the TV with you,” she says, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
“You know what I mean. Until hockey season is over, we pay people to do literally everything. And then I’ll pick up the slack, whether we’re at home or on tour.”
She looks like she wants to protest but then just nods. “Okay.”
“Lexi. Look at me.”
She’s staring at something off in the distance.
“Lexi!” I say her name louder this time.
She turns and her eyes meet mine questioningly.
“I love you. We’re going to figure this out.”
“I love you too.”
“Uh, guys?” Jonny pops his head out. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’ve got Casey on the line, and she wants to talk about the production schedule, so we need you for this part of it.”
“Coming.” Lexi nods at him. “Give me a minute.”
He nods and goes back inside.
“I have to go,” she says, moving against my chest. “But I’m okay. Really. A little overwhelmed sometimes, but I’ll work through it. Once we start playing, I’ll forget about everything for a while. Which is what you should do. We’re not solving anything before the game tonight. So go to work. Think about hockey. Kick Seattle’s ass. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I lean down and kiss her. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I still haven’t finished my lunch.”
She chuckles. “Okay. Lunch and then hockey.”
