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LIAM

After the game in Toronto, Jessica texts me and includes a photo of her, the kid, and Dolly all curled up on the couch together under one of the Knights branded fleece blankets the older woman makes. They’re cheering me on. Well, except KJ. He’s looking down at something with a wild grin on his face. Probably a piece of celebration cake.

The sight of it thaws something inside of me.

“Liam is smiling,” Hayden says in a low tone.

“Who died?” Redd asks.

Pierre cuffs my arm. “He’s married now. Of course he’s smiling.”

If only they knew it’s fake. Never mind. I am not an admirable man. Jessica was wrong. Coach too. They’re wrong about me. I add the sham marriage to my list of shame.

My phone beeps again and I read the message.

Jessica: Get excited for a new addition to the family when you get back.

Now I frown. That can’t be. First of all, I know for certain there aren’t any other possible children of mine out there. That’s one hundred percent impossible with my wife.

Restless, I take an overnight flight back to Omaha and get in early the next morning. I’ve been using all my away game travel time to improve my ASL with videos and practicing on the guys.

When I get home, Jessica and Mrs. Kirby stand in front of the Old Mill building. Elizabeth repeatedly jumps at something, but a bush blocks it. When I round the corner, Jessica holds the kid’s hand and the other grips a baby carriage.

I break out with a cold sweat.

She spots me immediately. “There he is!”

The kid rushes up to me, arms and hands moving so fast I can’t read his signs.

Mrs. Kirby looks me up and down, sniffs, and then scuffles away with Elizabeth who repeatedly looks over her shoulder and whines.

I hoist KJ into my arms and glance at the baby carriage, but the sunshade is down. “I’ll admit that I was surprised when this little bundle of joy came along, but there are multiple factors that would need to occur, including but not limited to conception, gestation—” I gesture between Jessica and me.

She tips her head back in laughter.

The kid signs and it’s very distinct. Basic. One of the first I retained.

Dog.

“You got a dog?”

Jessica pulls back the top of the carriage, revealing a puppy with big brown eyes and as much energy as the woman who brought him home. Lunging for me, he tries to get out of the dog stroller. Still holding the kid, I scoop him into my arms. The animal proceeds to lick my face and then my son’s.

“Jessica, what did you do?”

“I always wanted a dog.” She bites her lip. “I may have forgotten to mention that.”

“Seems like a pre-marriage conversation and a post-marriage decision to make together.”

“In that case, I’ve also always dreamed of having a house with a picket fence, two point five children—not half a child, but a dog. That would be the point-five part, in case it wasn’t clear.”

“Let’s just start with the dog. They’re a lot of work.”

“I know but they’re also a lot of fun and loyal.” She scratches the puppy by the ears.

I counter, “They eat a ton.”

“So do you.”

“They’re messy.”

“Let’s not talk about how you leave your socks outside the laundry basket.”

I grunt.

She takes the dog from my arms and says, “Puppers, meet your dog dad. He was rescued from an inhumane breeding operation and is a Bernese Mountain dog mix.”

“So he’ll be big?”

“Like his dad.”

“But why the stroller?”

“He hasn’t had all his shots yet, so he has to stay in the stroller when we go outside until he’s up to date.”

KJ pets the dog a few times before turning to me and signing something along the lines about how Elizabeth kept trying to kiss him and she has germs.

I want to laugh. That’s right, buddy. Girls have cooties at least until you’re eighteen.

I sign back. “What’s his name?”

KJ tries the letters and Jessica crouches down to spell it with him.

“Ranger?” I ask.

KJ nods and tells me it’s the same as his favorite army guy.

“We were just about to take a walk.” Jessica holds the kid’s hand and points to the stroller.

“I’m not pushing it.”

Her response is matter of fact. “Yes, you are.”

I huff but give in, hoping I’m not spotted by hockey fans who’ll post this absurdity online.

While we’re walking and the kid is signing to the dog, Jessica says, “I’ve been wanting to tell you that Grandma Dolly and I have been talking with the audiologist. There is a procedure that KJ is a candidate for.”

“You mean for him to hear? What does that have to do with getting a dog?”

“For you or me, suddenly being able to hear after an injury or something like that would be amazing. But for him, it might be jarring. Grandma Dolly explained that there are ways to make the transition easier, one of which is a companion animal.”

I nod, understanding what she means and fully trusting Dolly is in the know as she shares some more details.

Then Jessica links her arm through mine. “I have my comfort blanket so I can sleep. Figured he ought to have a buddy, too.”

I snort. Why does the idea of being her buddy, a comfort blanket, make me feel warm all over?

“About that. Now that we’re married, we need to have new rules.”

“What about scrapping them and just seeing how we do?”

That works for about an hour. While KJ takes his post-lunchtime nap, which has turned more into quiet time, or playtime given the new dog, I review game footage. Jessica tosses a pair of dirty socks at me and they land on my chest.

I instantly gag. “What was that for?”

“You left them outside the basket … again.”

Since this has been a regular argument, I open up a new tab on my computer. “I’m ordering us separate laundry baskets.”

“That’s a ridiculous solution. There’s only room for one.”

“Now you’re taking over my bathroom?”

“I’m going grocery shopping. I’ll be back with … some whipped cream.”

I almost, but don’t quite laugh, knowing exactly what she plans to do with that.

Having had a chance to cool off and by that, I mean get rid of those stinking socks—they are genuinely disgusting after a workout—KJ’s quiet time is over and he, the dog, and I play around in the living room.

When Jessica returns, we all help with the grocery bags. Except Ranger. But he finds the biscuit treats she got him.

As Jessica unloads, I notice she takes the items out of the bag, one by one, and sets them on the counter.

I ask, “What are you doing?”

“Putting everything away,” she answers innocently.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“There’s a right way to put away the food and stuff?” She looks at me like I’ve got a screw loose.

“You take them out of the bag and put them directly where they go. Saves time.”

She smiles at the array of boxes, cans, and packages on the counter. “Maybe I like looking at them.”

My eyebrows bunch together. “It’s inefficient.”

As I turn my back to the pantry, I catch her playfully sticking her tongue out at me.

Thankfully, it looks like she forgot the whipped cream.

That night, KJ and the dog go to Dolly’s because there is a Knights team event. Jessica and I are both in the bathroom, getting ready.

She asks, “What should I wear?”

“Clothes.”

“The Knights aren’t secretly nudists? What a surprise given the presence of ice,” she deadpans.

“Sassy Jessica.” I marvel. I’m not sure if I like it.

“What was that, Lazy Liam?”

I balk. “Lazy? I’m one of the hardest working players?—”

She points to the socks on the floor next to the laundry basket. “The Ellises are not common slobs.”

My thoughts snag on her smile and how she’s an Ellis now. My missus.

I huff and pinch the edge of the hem as I pick them up and then wave them toward her. She runs out of the room, shrieking.

From the closet, which she’s also moved her clothes into, she says, “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” I repeat.

“Liam Ellis, it takes a lot to get under my skin, but I just want to—” She lets out a soft exhale. “I just want to fit in.”

“You do. You will.”

When she doesn’t answer, sadness rumples her features. My mouth opens and closes because I don’t know what I did or said, so I don’t dare utter another word.

“What kind of event is it?” she tries again.

“It’s game night.”

“You have tonight off.”

“Board games. Cards. That kind of thing. Redd and Whit are hosting. They have a big wood-fired pizza oven so there will be food too.”

Staring at me she says, “Couldn’t you have told me that to begin with?” Then she holds up her hand. “Never mind. I’ll ask a better question next time. Ask good questions. Get good answers.”

She wears a red wrap dress with little white flowers. Her hair cascades over her shoulders silky and shiny. Every time she moves, I get a little drunker on her cinnamon spice scent. Perhaps I shouldn’t drive.

On the ride over, Jessica says, “So we’re going to have to act like a real couple and not a bickering old …”

“Couple?” I finish for her.

“Yes. Can you do that?”

“Can you?”

“Yes, darling,” she says brightly.

I grunt.

After a beat, she asks, “How long have your parents been married?”

“Thirty-five years.”

“Do they have any secrets to a lasting marriage?”

“Actually, my dad did say something about that on our wedding night.”

But before Jessica can ask me what it was, we arrive at the farmhouse Redd and Whit fixed up. I tell Jessica about their dairy cows.

“Wait. You said there’d be pizza, but Whit runs the Milk Mustache cookie truck. Does that mean there will also be cookies?” Apparently having answered the question for herself, she squeals and all but bolts out of the car, sprinting to the backyard where the festivities are underway.

The scent of cooking dough and wood smoke along with Redd greets me. I gather with the guys including our host, Hayden, Mikey, Robo, Pierre, and a few others who’re playing horseshoes. We talk about hockey, naturally.

From across the backyard, I spot Jessica with some of the women. Her eyes sparkle, her lips part with laughter, and she looks anything but shy or like she feels out of place.

Jack elbows me, obviously having caught me staring.

I don’t instantly look away but slowly drag my gaze back to the guys.

In an exaggeratedly wistful voice, he says, “Ah, young love.”

I’m about to argue, and tell him that I’m not young—he and I are roughly the same age—nor am I in love. That’s ridiculous. Probably.