Page 57

MEOWY FRIENDSMAS

Sabrina

Tiffany barely says hello when she arrives at the rink for her lesson on a Sunday afternoon. “I want to learn the bunny hop,” she declares as she hangs over the boards, waving her phone at me, cued up to YouTube. “Look!”

I know both how to do a bunny hop and teach it, but still, I skate over to her to watch the video she’s tracked down. A minute later, her mother catches up. She’s a few paces behind Tiffany since it’s hard to keep up with the busy girl.

“That’s an intermediate move but we can work toward that,” I tell my student. “How does that sound?”

Tiffany sighs, like she’s so put out, but then she nods excitedly.

“Yes, please!” She peers at the video again.

“Wait. Mom, that’s your account on my phone.

Were you watching YouTube on my phone? Last time you watched all those Ukrainian TV shows.

” Tiffany doesn’t sound accusatory so much as curious .

Her mom gives a small, proud shrug. “They remind me of home.”

And I think I know what’s going on here. “Ms. Kovalenko. Do you want to take a lesson someday?”

“Mom! Do it, do it, do it,” Tiffany encourages.

“Perhaps,” her mom says, and it feels like she’s one step closer than the last time she said maybe .

I seize the chance: “I’d love to put together some intro moves just for you. Think about it.”

“I am,” she says.

And I hold on to that bit of progress as I teach her daughter some backward wiggles, then spend the rest of the afternoon with other students.

That evening I’m exhausted from coaching all day, but it’s a good kind of exhausted. Mostly, I’m energized at the thought of seeing my friends tonight since it’s time for Friendsmas. Isla, Miss Christmas herself, is hosting at her house.

After I tug on a thrifted Christmas sweater—it has a gold sequined cat wearing a red scarf with actual jingle bells and the words Meowy Christmas under the animal—I head to her home.

The kids are with Elle, but I’ll pick them up bright and early tomorrow for the flight across the country.

No need for them to fly as unaccompanied minors since I’ll be with them now — Tyler worked with Elle to rebook all the tickets, and since he played in Montreal the other night, we’ll meet him in the city tomorrow.

But I put the trip out of my mind as I knock on Isla’s door.

She swings it open, and a sonic blast of Sia’s “Candy Cane Lane” hits me.

“And a Meowy Christmas to you too,” she sings, then hustles me inside. “Also, excellent work on the ugly sweater. ”

“I take issue with the word ugly. I think this is quite fabulous,” I say, flicking a bell a few times, adding a little tinkling harmony to the soundtrack.

“Wear it in June, then,” Trevyn shouts from the living room as he scratches Barbara-dor behind her reindeer ears.

“Um, June is hot.”

“Not in San Francisco,” Leighton calls out as she sets a tray of mixed nuts on the table.

Maeve swoops in from the kitchen. “Did someone say mixed nuts?”

She grabs a couple and pops them in her mouth, and I set the gifts on the table, then hug everyone.

Skylar’s here too, and so are Everly and Josie—they wave from the kitchen as they mix drinks. Spiked hot cocoa, I think.

Or really, I hope.

Soon, we’re all huddled in Isla’s living room, the lights of the tree twinkling, laughing and toasting to the holidays.

When Isla snaps her gaze to me with a pointed look, I know I’m about to get a friendly grilling. “So, word on the street is you’re ditching us for the hot boss you have a sex diary with.”

I blush. I mean, they all know what’s going on, but still, I’m not sure anything’s going to happen with Tyler in New York. Nothing has happened for a while anyway, with his travel and me getting sick and our…argument?

Yes, it was an argument. A temporary estrangement, really. One that—Shoot, I need to answer my friends.

“It is true, but I am not ditching you,” I say, then gesture to myself. “Hello. I’m here right now.”

“True, but I’m pretty sure you were pretending you were busy with us when you needed to get out of things with him,” Trevyn points out.

“I hate you,” I tell him .

“Sorry. Not sorry. But it was impressive finagling,” Trevyn adds since he knows how I used my friends as a cover-up.

“Did you use us as a shield?” Josie asks salaciously, leaning forward in the chair. “I love that. We were like your secret excuse.”

“And why does that thrill you?” Everly asks her.

“Because it kind of makes me feel like we’re enabling this clandestine love affair. Like you had with Max,” Josie says to the team publicist. Then, to Leighton, “And you with Miles.”

“And you kind of with Wesley,” Maeve counters, then adds saucily as she plucks a cashew from the bowl, “but I was not clandestine. Mine was simple and splashed all over socials.”

“Oh please, you were complicated in the most Maeve-ian way,” Josie says.

Maeve just flicks her hair off her shoulder, owning it. “Of course I was.”

Skylar clears her throat. “And now, Sabrina? Now it’s not forbidden with Tyler?”

I wince. I don’t know what it is other than… good luck with, well, everything.

“I honestly don’t know.” I sigh, but then brighten. “But I’m trying to be okay with that. You know what I mean?”

The mood turns serious for a moment, not surprising since the tune does too, with Please Come Home for Christmas now playing.

“That makes sense,” Isla says thoughtfully. “Sometimes relationships have to live in the in-between before you can figure out what’s next.”

“The in-between,” Leighton says thoughtfully. “I spent a lot of time there with Miles.”

Everly raises a hand. “Same here. You don’t always get to the other side until you’ve made it through the in-between.”

“And on that festive note, let’s open some presents,” Trevyn says .

“Yes, let’s do that,” I say, eager to move on to something certain, something knowable—friendship.

And when the night ends, Isla says, “Have fun in New York with your…”

She stops, clearly not knowing what to call Tyler.

I don’t either.

The flight takes off in the morning, with the kids settled into their comfy seats in the first row.

I relax into my big seat right across from them.

As the plane climbs higher, I scroll through pictures of Drama with her new family.

A couple adopted her—two young moms who have two young kids.

They’ve been posting pictures of the kitten on their social media, dubbing themselves Cat Ladies With Kids Too.

I heart the pics, then turn off my phone and stare out the window as the plane hurtles across the country for the holidays.

It’s a little surreal—six months ago, I was wearing a wedding dress and running away from a gaslighting ex and a mean father, straight into the arms of a hockey star.

Now I’m flying toward him. To spend Christmas with him and his kids.

Life moves fast when you least expect it.

Even though I still don’t know what to call Tyler in this in-between state.

I wish myself luck and hope I’ll figure it out soon.

That evening, we drop our bags off in Tyler’s suite at The Luxe Hotel on Fifth Avenue with a decadent view of Central Park. He booked it for all of us, and I have an adjoining room because…appearances. We don’t want to confuse the kids, after all.

After they brush their teeth, I hustle them to the street to catch the town car Tyler ordered for us to take us to his game against the tough New York team.

The city is a blur of holiday lights and bustling sidewalks full of last-minute shoppers, but all I can think about is how this doesn’t feel like just a work trip.

It feels like a…

I stop myself from thinking the words family vacation too much. This is just…all of us hanging out.

No need for labels.

And when I think of how close I was to saying I do just a little while ago, but for an accidental voice message, this uncertainty is a good thing.

It has to be.

We reach the arena, where the energy for the last game before Christmas is electric. The crowd is rowdy since New York fans always bring their A-game when it comes to support.

But so do I. I’m bedazzled, after all, in my number forty-four jersey.

And when the sexiest, most caring man I know flies onto the ice, he turns to our side of the rink and makes a heart gesture for the kids.

Then his eyes travel to me.

And stay there.

My breath catches. My chest flutters.

I still don’t know what to do with all of these feelings. Especially since I keep wondering what it’s going to be like later tonight when we’re in the same hotel suite, him and the kids and me.

The answer?

It’s hard. Really hard.

Especially since I’m here all alone in my hotel bed, reading, and wishing—in this moment—that things were more clear.

At least in my head. I wish I knew what I wanted. What I’m ready for. What I can handle. I just don't know yet. So much has changed in my life in the last several months.

Am I even ready for…anything more?

I turn off the lights, willing myself to sleep.

Then comes the knock on the adjoining door.