I take a deep breath. Then another. Then another.
Hit the “call” button on my phone, then panic and immediately hang up.
I sneak a peek at Seb, who’s in the driver’s seat of his SUV, one big hand draped casually over the wheel like he’s taking a little drive down an abandoned country backroad, rather than doing 120 on a slam-packed I-85.
It’s the day of the toy drive, and we are currently en route to the big event—and I say we, because we’ve been carpooling everywhere since our trip home from the arena the other night, mostly because Seb was right and my Jetta does sound wheezy as all hell.
Usually, I enjoy our little car rides together, but today, not so much, because of this pesky phone call Seb is insisting I make.
My husband—who’s looking particularly hot right now in gray sweatpants, a form-fitting black T-shirt, and a backwards Cyclones baseball cap—looks at me. “Just do it, Mads. Woman up and call her.”
“Thank you for not saying ‘man up’… and please watch the road!”
He laughs and turns his eyes back to the freeway, but then immediately starts fiddling with the radio, skipping from one station playing Christmas music to the next. “Unlike most men, I am a master at multitasking.”
I don’t know why, but his words make me blush. Seb can make the most innocent sentence sound innuendo-laden—not unlike Joey “Grandma’s chicken salad” Tribbiani from Friends. It’s a freaking talent, I’ll give him that… but it makes for a constantly giggly and squirmy existence as his wife who has never experienced more than a drunken, fleeting kiss at our wedding ceremony.
I shiver at the memory of brushing my lips against his for that split second. The rest of the night might be a complete blur, but that moment is crystal clear in my mind.
Our wedding kiss was warm, tentative, and surprisingly soft. Sebastian Slater has nice lips. Lips that look like they’d be really good at actual kissing.
Guess I better engrave it onto my frontal lobe—it’s the most physical we will surely ever get as man and wife. Because of my stupid rules… but maybe some rules are made to be broken?
Hopefully?
Gahhh, shh, brain. Behave yourself. We are on our way to a freaking toy drive for children right now!
“Call her, Lady M. Rip the bandaid off,” Seb urges, fiddling with the vents so they blow warm air in my direction. Thoughtful.
“Watch the road,” I chastise again. “And seriously, Seb, why do you call me Lady M?”
He smirks, shoots me a side glance. “Stop changing the subject, Lady Macbeth.”
My eyes widen. “Wait. You nicknamed me after a murderous villainess?!”
“You were scrubbing those hands like you were trying to take your skin off, first time we met,” he replies with a laugh. “It was a natural nickname to bestow upon you.”
“Well, luckily for you, I never plan to manipulate my dear husband into committing brutal atrocities against his kingdom.”
“What a relief.” His eyes are twinkling. “You’ll just play along with fooling everyone into thinking we’re madly in love with each other.”
“Exactly.” I grin at him. “And hopefully not be driven mad by guilt about the whole thing like Lady Macbeth was.”
“Let’s hope not,” he says gravely. “But if I find you sleepwalking around the apartment, scrubbing those hands, I’ll know what’s causing it.”
This makes me laugh, and I stare back down at my phone, feeling a bit more buoyant than I did a few minutes ago. “I never thought I’d be calling my ex-mother-in-law-to-be to tell her that I’m bringing my new NHL-playing husband for the holidays.”
“And I never thought I’d be driving my new wife to a work event where I have to dress up and parade around as a six-foot-four, twenty-seven-year-old freaking Christmas elf, but here we are. So, no more excuses.”
He’s not wrong. He is going to be posing tonight as a Christmas elf (the costume is in the trunk) with the rest of the team at the home of Carter freaking Callahan—yes, the Carter Callahan, Hollywood A-Lister extraordinaire—for this year’s Cyclones charity event.
Apparently, Chantal Holmes is friends with Carter’s wife, and when she heard about Seb’s idea for a toy drive, she suggested combining hockey and movie star forces to make the event the biggest and most successful yet.
But my excitement at meeting my favorite actor is overshadowed by the call I really do have to make.
Seb and I have been talking lately about the logistics of our upcoming little cabin vacation (which I’ve taken to calling our Christmas of Horrors). I told him that Alicia Plumlee is a nice lady, but my own mom can be prickly. That the dads will likely be more interested in their cigars and business talk than in our relationship. That Jax is my favorite, and he’s a bartender at a really cool restaurant downtown that I love. That Adam, in general, sucks.
And while I’ve been focusing on whether Seb should gift Adam a signed photograph of himself for Christmas (my vote was yes, whereas Seb’s was a resounding no), Sebastian has been mainly concerned with letting Mr. and Mrs. Plumlee know that I’d be bringing someone to their cabin because he doesn’t want a surprise guest to cause them any bother.
In fact, his exact words were, “I take up a lot of room, Madelyn. And though those people raised an absolute idiot of a son, we will be staying in their house. I was raised to have manners.”
Again with the thoughtful. And I know that he’s right.
Seb looks at me expectantly and I sigh.
Here goes nothing…
The phone starts to ring and one hand tightens around my cell phone, the other on my thigh. I wince like I’m preparing for impact when Alicia Plumlee’s aptly plummy voice says, “Hello?”
Her voice is painfully familiar and painfully far away, all at once. I haven’t heard that voice in months. Not since before I dunked her son in a vat of frosting.
I can’t do this.
Panicking, I clear my throat. Croak out an incoherent sound.
Cough again.
And then, while I’m frozen with my soundless mouth open like a frog, wondering whether I should open the door and fling myself from the moving vehicle, a warm, strong, solid hand covers the hand that’s currently cutting off the circulation to my leg.
Seb gently pushes on my fingers, one by one, until he’s released my death-grip. Then, he takes my hand in his.
All while he maneuvers into the left lane around a semi.
He wasn’t wrong when he said he could multitask. And it’s enough to give me the confidence to find my voice. “Hello, Mrs. Plumlee. It’s Maddie. Um, I mean, Madelyn Grainger.”
Seb gives my hand a little squeeze, as if to reassure me that, yes, I am speaking somewhat coherent English and not pig Latin.
“Madelyn, so nice to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alicia’s tone is more confused than pleased, but I can hardly blame her for that. If Adam called my mother out of the blue, she’d probably have a stroke. And then immediately start planning our wedding.
Meanwhile, my actual husband begins to rub his thumb back and forth along the edge of my hand in a steady, calming, reassuring rhythm.
He’s telling me that he’s here for me. That I can do this. And I can.
“I’m calling to talk to you about Christmas…”
The toy drive is a totally chaotic scene of Holiday cheer, and the Christmas-lover in me is positively joyful to be a part of this event at the Callahan mansion.
Seb and his teammates have all donned their costumes, complete with pointy hats, velvet tunics, and curly-toed shoes with bells on them. Some of the guys are sporting their elf-wear with more pride than others—Jake Griswold is scowling like an angry racoon, his tights straining around his gargantuan thighs. Meanwhile, Jimmy is wearing a reindeer nose and antlers with his costume, for some unknown reason, and Dallas has gone for a shirtless elf look, foregoing a tunic in favor of suspenders worn over a lot of bare abs on display for everyone to see.
Nice abs, too, if I’m being very honest.
Jeez, these hockey players have serious physiques.
As the guys playfully jostle around, sorting the veritable mountain of toys into bins in front of a twelve-foot Christmas tree, Reagan livestreams the scene with glee. I don’t blame her—this is A+ content: the laughter in the room is infectious, the guys look hilarious, and Carter Callahan himself is in the middle of it all, sitting on the floor next to his pretty, dark-eyed wife as they wrap gifts.
It’s a bit surreal, watching someone I’ve seen in so many movies exist as a real-life person covered in pieces of sticky tape.
After we’ve finished the sorting and wrapping, the plan is for everyone to jump on the Cyclones’ bus and head to different locations around the city to give out the gifts. It’s such a sweet gesture. And Reagan seems happy enough with the team dressed up as buff elves that she’s dropped her Twelve Lays of Christmas idea… for now, at least.
I hum along to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” as I work, curling ribbon after ribbon on the wrapped gifts. I try not let my eyes keep drifting back to Seb, but at this point, it’s impossible not to look at him. He’s accessorized his ridiculous elf costume with a cheeky smirk, and he’s currently locked in what appears to be a lively debate with a blonde-haired, dark-eyed little girl who’s been prancing around the room since we arrived.
He looks cute talking to kids. I’m sure I’m wearing a dopey grin as I watch him.
Adrienne is watching him, too, I notice. And when she sees me notice this, I bravely stare her down until she looks away.
Back off, HR Lady. That’s MY husband.
Wow, this charity toy drive is bringing out the jealous in me. Which isn’t exactly charitable.
Or maybe, it’s that after our conversation the other night where I learned a little more about Seb’s background, it’s becoming harder and harder for me not to acknowledge that this guy is the total freaking package. Because while he’s obviously hot, talented, and great at making me feel like a flustered mess with his smart-mouthed flirtations, on a deeper level, I’m learning that Seb is kind. He cares about the people around him. He’s determined to give back.
It’s… well, it’s sexy beyond belief.
My dopey grin widens as I focus back on Seb and the little girl.
“That’s Carter’s daughter.” Chantal Holmes materializes at my side, holding a clipboard in one hand and about ten rolls of wrapping paper in the other.
“Oh, really?” I peer at the girl, who has her hands on her hips and is squaring up to Seb like he’s a ballerina and not a hulking hockey player. “She seems like a feisty little thing.”
Chantal laughs with me. “She keeps Carter on his toes, that’s for sure.”
“She’s adorable. I love the sass.” I’ve never really imagined my own future with kids in it. I want them, but Adam never wanted to talk about them. To this day, I have no idea if he sees kids in his future. Maybe he didn’t want them with me, but wants them with Elizabeth.
I flinch a little. Six days and counting until I’m face to face with the nightmare I like to call my past, in the present.
The phone call to Alicia Plumlee went okay. Mostly thanks to Seb, who held my hand the whole way through. After I hung up, he folded his hand back into his lap like it was absolutely nothing.
But it meant a lot to me.
Alicia was shocked, to say the least, but accommodating. Especially given the fact that we’re due to arrive there in less than a week. I was vague, only saying that I was bringing my new partner. Figured I’d save the H-for-Husband bomb for when I’m there to see everyone’s faces. Especially Adam’s.
“He looks like he’ll make a good dad someday.” Chantal nods at Seb, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I dunno, I mean…” I’m about to laugh and make a comment about Seb’s only baby being his job, but at the last minute, I remember that I’m technically married to the guy. “I guess,” I finish.
“You haven’t talked about kids?”
I shake my head and try to look nonchalant. And wifelike. “Not yet. All in good time.”
“Of course. Enjoy being newlyweds first.” She pats my arm and wanders off, and I refocus on my task: curling ribbon with military precision and trying very hard to ignore Seb’s flushed pink cheeks, tilted elf hat, and raucous laugh as he talks with the Callahan girl.
He does look like he’d make a good dad someday. You’d have never caught Adam joking around with a little kid like that while wearing a ridiculous costume. It’s attractive how comfortable Seb is in his own skin. How unafraid he is to look silly. And sure, he may not be the dad of my future kids, but it does make me realize something I want in my next real partner: qualities that’ll make him a good father.
I’m so lost in my future-baby-daddy daydream that I don’t notice Seb approach me, trying his best to balance a gigantic stack of toys that resembles the leaning tower of Pisa in his arms. ‘Need a hand, Santa’s helper?’
I can’t help but smile at the sight of him. Those striped tights are a real winner. ‘Well, I don’t know. You look like you’ve got your hands full.’
He winks and expertly deposits the toys into a nearby box. ‘You’re underestimating my multitasking skills again.’
“I was more wondering if you or the little girl won that argument. You looked like you were getting your ass handed to you.”
“Nah.” He laughs and shakes his head. “That kid is a spitfire, but I won in the end.”
“No!” The kid comes running up, waving her arms at me. “For the record, he did not win. I just said that girls my age might find hockey a little less boring if they got a pink stick for Christmas instead of a stupid gray one.”
“Those stupid gray ones cost two hundred bucks a pop!” Seb argues, but he’s grinning.
Meanwhile, my mouth falls open. Seb’s trunk was packed to the brim when we got here. If he’s serious about how much they cost, there must’ve been ten grand’s worth of hockey sticks in there.
“Don’t make ‘em any less boring,” the kid shoots back. She stares at Seb with a slightly terrifying expression, then turns to me, suddenly all sunshine. “Hello, I’m Allegra Liana Donovan Callahan. Who are you?”
“Maddie Grain–uh, Slater. Maddie Slater.”
She wrinkles her cute nose and jerks a thumb at Seb. “You married to this guy?”
“She sure is.” Seb slings an arm around me, still laughing good-naturedly. “Lucky lady, eh?”
Allegra narrows her eyes. Considers this quietly for a few minutes before nodding. “Maybe… I mean, Sebastian is very nice to buy so many hockey sticks for kids. Even if hockey is really, really boring.”
It’s my turn to laugh, and I give the little girl a conspiratorial look. “You get used to it after awhile.”
“Hey!” With the arm that’s still around me, Seb tickles my ribs, making me squirm to get out of his grasp. “Take that back.”
“Never!” I shriek, and he holds me tighter, pinning me against him as he tickles my side relentlessly. I’m giggling and gasping for air all at once, while simultaneously being hyper-aware of how tall he is next to me, how good he smells. “Okay, okay! I didn’t mean it. I secretly love hockey. Promise!”
He releases me from his death grip. Sheesh, he’s strong!
“Atta girl,” he says with his eyes fixed on me.
My stomach flips as electricity charges the moment so it crackles.
Seb looks like he’s about to say something further, but before he can, Allegra crosses her arms. “You look at her like my daddy looks at my mommy. And they’re super happy together. So, I’m going to go with yes. She is lucky to be married to you.”
